Geography II

Ah, I am an ineffectual cartographer . . . Yet cartograph I must, I feel, if anyone is to record and recognize and recover me from this island.

Here is my latest map:

I know. It is crude. Simple. Inept and inadequate. But please, take a closer look:

I have added rudimentary roads. The airport (where one day, yes, one day, I will make my escape!)

Of course there is much more to the island than this, but hopefully you can glean a measure of physical concept from what I have revealed.

I have yet to include the Rutabaga River or any true representation of the multitudes of The Homesteads.

I have yet to reveal streets and alleys and clusters of buildings. Restaurants. Toilets. Parks and lakes and ditches. Yes.

I have yet to graph all the many numerous secret-ish towers and stations and hidden camera that are run by The Apparatus--even I, with timeless time on my hands, cannot do that.

Please, use the map. I thought it pertinent to post it, considering what I endeavor to do next--which is to visit Stalag Ranville.

At least, let me simplify things. Here is an easy to read image, two views actually, that capture Soybean Island quite succinctly:

Wow!



Addendum:

Here is the Special Building from which the Special Transport Vehicle departs carrying its Special Workers and Visitors. (As long as you have or don't have the special pass, El Blanco.)

It takes Road #6 north to a checkpoint. Then it takes--by my admirable estimation--Stalag Road to, indeed, Stalag Ranville.

Anyway, Le Batiment Officiel Special:

Wow . . .
Strange . . .
And how yellow.


Until next time if there is a next time:

Goodbye from Soybean Island,

#1957

Thoughts on Stalag Ranville Whilst Walking Lake Bellobrutto in Summer

Number One Nine Five Seven here. And though I hoped not to return to Lake Bellobrutto, I did nonetheless. This time mid-summer, not early spring.

With its algae-green, algae-infested waters . . . How beautiful it is:

But I wanted to walk somewhere relatively quiet, some place with at least the facade of nature. My mind, lately and what's left of it, has been upon Stalag Ranville. I have a great urge--a righteous need, perhaps--to visit the place. Some here, in SIC (Soybean Island City), believe that the place is a myth, that there is no prison town upon this prison island (though they do not believe it is a prison island either). But I know it is a real place . . .

But, for now, more lake (I must keep The Apparatus distracted--they love pictures!):

(Well--more flowers, not lake . . .)

(A glorious woodpile.)


Look!

Visit Soybean Island

And a snail: !!!

See The Snails!

Ah, now that The Apparatus is appeased . . . Not only do I know Stalag Ranville exists, I believe I have found a way to get there. You see, through my careful and droll observations of this horrid place, I have seen with my own eyes a special TV (Transport Vehicle) that goes north of the city.

This is not your usual TV and it does not contain your usual riders of TVs. No. It appears to carry either workers (and not your usual workers that often work the fields of The Homesteads) or visitors. Or both. Workers? To keep the prisoners of Stalag Ranville incarcerated and in-line! Visitors? To visit and bring cigarettes and little sweet snacks to the prisoners!

But, more frivolous photos:

 (Do not enter.)

(A snailfish?)

(Such lovely murky vomit-green waters!)


Back to what I want to be back to: Stalag Ranville:

I have watched and listened to what happens at the loading station for this special TV. I have seen people board and present a special pass. This special pass at this special station for the special TV is only a blank square of paper. That is, a white square made of paper. I have heard some riders say: "No tengo El Blanco." They did not produce the paper yet the authorities in charge let them on anyway. In and off, to the north and to, I am certain, Stalag Ranville . . .

Photos:

(Home to a Soybean Island Snail: Bean Snail, Fighting Snail, Transcendental Snail?)

( A birdhouse? Snailhouse? . . . A birdhouse. Yes. Yet, they forgot to put a doorway for the potential bird. This is a result of the captive-mindset of those in charge on Soybean island.)

(And the obligatory and ubiquitous plastic yellow ribbon on a bland stick, so loved by Soybean Islanders.)


Back: So, my plan is to simply either fashion an El Blanco pass or simply say "No tengo El Blanco," and board the special TV and be on my merryless way to the mirthless Stalag Ranville! It will take great courage and daring with just a hint of stupidity to do it, yet I feel compelled that I must do it. I must!

. . . Oh . . . Bellabrutto . . . Here is what I really came to see, the true reason I returned to this wonderland of non-wonder:

In the guise of illegible graffiti are the markings of some tribe. I viewed these before and they are, remarkably, still here. I believe they are the markings of Aboriginal Soybean Islanders--The Habs--a race of people who the Apparatus and the locals have tried to eradicate. No doubt there are a number of these people, these original inhabitants, in Stalag Ranville.

I do not have the knowledge to decipher what is being said here--"Down With The Apparatus"? "Freedom For The Habs"? "Free Smells"? "Help!"? . . .

I am very curious as to why they are still here and why the creators of these cryptic messages chose living trees to post their communiques of despair and defiance or differential despondence . . .

Alas.
A mystery.
For now.

So, now at least you--you, you non-existence reader of my travails and cries--know of my plans. At least you--you ghost-human from the real and free world--can acknowledge my absence should I not return.

If this blog goes blank, will anyone know?

If I go down this trail and never return . . . Who will know?

Who?

Goodbye from Soybean Island,

Number 1957

Carretorgetplatz Park

Carretorgetplatz Park is one of the main green spaces in the city. That's Soybean Island City to you. And me, unfortunately . . . So without further ado, let's take a look:

Marvelous!

And the flowers!!!!!!!!!! :

Visit Soybean Island

Stupendous! Sweet! Lovely! Remarkable!

I do not visit Carretorgetplatz Park very often, though it is not that far from my The Apparatus approved/provided apartment. Though my position on the island--my job and official capacity--is to be An Object of Curiosity, I find Carretorgetplatz Park to be too crowded with the seemingly normal local citizens strolling about in willful ignorance under the sun and in the shade and upon two feet.

But enough I say! Back to the park:

Or a rock in the park, as it were . . .

That's not to say the park is without dangers:

But the soulless existential danger of existing on Soybean Island is the greater peril than drowning in a water fountain, I must say.

And of course there are well rounded (though questionable) parts to the park:

I do not know if the last photo is a green insect or a Transcendental Snail hatchling  . . .


My ignorance is formidable.


More curious observations from An Object of Curiosity:

Wondrous!!!!!!


And of course, how could Carretorgetplatz Park be complete without statuary?

It cannot be!

Look! :

(Shiny and Threatening!)

(A Bronze Snail falling off a Cliff!)

(A Citizen Pleading for God to take him/her off This Island--including an overly Large House Cat and a curiously Small Bull Elk!)

(Authority with an Axe!)

(Authority with a Gun!)


These latter two pieces of great art, I trust, are the most popular and revered upon the island as a whole . . . But wait, I have one more:

A piano? A panel? A pumping station? Is it artwork at all? Or is it but an electric and sealed spying station for The Apparatus? Artwork, nonetheless, whatever it may be . . .

And so there you have it, a rendering of the pastoral and civilized, of the beautiful yet enigmatic Carretorgetplatz Park in Soybean Island City on Soybean Island.

Yes.

No.

Yes . . . Until next time if there is a next time:

Goodbye from Soybean Island,

#1957

Academic Economic Zone 2

Yes. Number One Nine Five Seven here. Time to reveal yet another quadrant, section, area, level, parish, zone of Soybean Island:

AEZ2.

This place resides just south of The University of Soybean Island and for all practical purposes (and by official lie) it is connected to that institution of higher non-learning.

As always yet even more so, I must be very careful with what I show, with what images I select. A reminder: The Apparatus loves and deciphers images, they ignore the written word (unless, possibly, it is a caption).

But AEZ2 is an area where corporations can have their way with the academic world, where they have access not only to all research and invention, but to physical space and the student body as well.

What corporations want, corporation get on Soybean Island.

Of course, as a member of the Prisoner Class, I cannot fully understand the nefariously diabolical machinations of this island, other than I know it is ruled by a Corporate Elite and that it houses those humans who governments and oligarchs and secret societies wish to have disappear. They are paid quite handsomely for this rendition of exiled prisoners. Anyway, Academic Economic Zone 2:

AEZ2 is quite different that AEZ1 (commonly and oddly-affectionately known as Snailtown). Where Snailtown (Academic Economic Zone 1) is all about commerce and filling the needs or perceived needs or conspicuous non-needs of student and faculty, AEZ2 is all about The Man.

This area used to be quite rural. It used to be agricultural, often put to use by the University's Department of Agriculture.

From this:

To this:

With more to come!

From here:

To there:

Yes, the top are real animals, I believe. While the latter photo is but a statue.

Or are they snails?

I can never tell . . .

But here is some curious artwork:

Metallic?

Check.

Cage-like?

Check.

Inhumane?

But of course!

Rather snail-like as well, I observe . . .

And this: Look!

A steel barrier cage in the middle of nowhere . . . Wow . . . No doubt it awaits the development of streets and buildings to catch up with it, but of course it's important to build spaces of confinement first. Yes.

But which is better? The rise of corporate infrastructure, or hanging on to what was?

Alas, it is neither here nor there, to be or not to be, good or bad or black and white or night, day, spring, summer, fall, winter or of burning importance to me. It is but Soybean Island and all I wish for is escape . . .

Until next time if there is a next time:

Goodbye from Soybean Island,

                                                         #1957