Marshall Reconnoiters the Grove
MutantsMichael — 9/1/24, 7:52 AM
I suppose we'll get started, if Marshall is doing a once-over of the camp the night before Cremation with a normal baseline dose of 2C-B, with the usual drug-taking HT roll. HT-8 roll, please.
Inverarity used
roll
Dice GolemAPP — 9/1/24, 9:17 AM
@Inverarity rolled
3d6HT-8:(3+2+4)= 9MutantsMichael — 9/1/24, 9:18 AM
Okay, that means the worst of the hallucinations will only last one hour, which is probably good considering the circumstances.
[9:21 AM]
Will follow up with some observations later today but in the meantime an Observation-16 roll before the drug kicks in in earnest would be good.
Inverarity used
roll
Dice GolemAPP — 9/1/24, 9:24 AM
@Inverarity rolled
3d6Observ-16:(6+2+5)= 131
September 2, 2024
MutantsMichael — 9/2/24, 10:17 AM
Attaching a "whimsical" mid-1950s map of the Grove; the geography is pretty much consistent down to '74 (or we'll assume it is anyway). The top half of the map is aligned west-to-east. The bottom half sort of stacks on top of the top map in a mirror "L," rotated 90 degrees left, so The Lake is southernmost, and the Russian River and the trap shooting area northernmost. Marshall will be rambling south from Hill Billies camp along Swimming Pool Road towards the "Campfire Circle" to get into the center of camp.
[10:18 AM]
On this cool dry Thursday evening in the Grove, Marshall can see campers getting settled into the many camps along the road. The men seem to be in very good spirits, their body language betraying an ease and camaraderie Marshall is sure does not bubble up too often in their workplaces or homes. These camps on the Swimming Pool Road are more informal and number between a half-dozen and a dozen attendees on average; Hill Billies is definitely one of the larger camps here; Marshall notices that a lot of the "artists" and "performer" camps lie on the east side of the road: "Band" and "Tunerville" show off some of the musicians arranging their instruments: drums, brass, and an old-timey upright piano or two that have been wheeled into place. The music vibe definitely seems to be old Dixieland jazz type combos; strictly from squaresville in the year of our Lord 1974. There's some art attached to the trees alongside the road as well, and some of it seems to originate from the early Bohemian days. Big posters with Greek and Shakespearean themes, some of which Marshall remembers from the research material Sophie put together: two that were in a photo with George Sterling: "Me and Will," and "The Sigher," and a silhouette self-portrait done by Xavier Martínez, "Señor Don Xavier Timoteo Martinez y Orozco: Artista, Pintor." The 2C-B is starting to kick in, and Marshall finds himself drawn to the original Bohemians' art. (edited)
[10:20 AM]
(Two other frieze-style pieces from the 1900s are evident as Marshall gets closer to the center of camp; both seem to have an ironic style meant to remind the Bohemians of classical art but with "modern" subjects like businessmen, bohemians, and ballet dancers.)
Inverarity — 9/2/24, 11:16 AM
Marshall will definitely go examine some of the artwork; in addition to the 2C-B, he’ll be thinking in terms of Occultism and Propaganda in terms of analyzing their contents. He’s also keeping a subtle eye out for Archie — not for any reason, just to get eyes on him.
1
MutantsMichael — 9/2/24, 11:32 AM
Oh, that's very good. Let's see how the first round of hallucinations hit Marshall as he looks at the art for propaganda purposes. First, a Will-18 roll.
Inverarity used
roll
Dice GolemAPP — 9/2/24, 11:43 AM
@Inverarity rolled
3d6Will-18:(2+1+3)= 6MutantsMichael — 9/2/24, 11:46 AM
Critical success against disorienting hallucinations, so that will mean no skill penalty (plus I'm going to give him a +1 from familiarity with the Sterling et al. memeplex). Marshall is in control and can give me a Propaganda-18 roll.
Inverarity used
roll
Dice GolemAPP — 9/2/24, 11:50 AM
@Inverarity rolled
3d6Prop-18:(2+3+6)= 11MutantsMichael — 9/2/24, 12:21 PM
These remnants of the old Bohemians' artistic pretentions almost seem like victory scalps to Marshall; their purpose on the surface is to remind all the CEOs and politicians of the humble, artsy origins of this Club, much like all the other remnants of Gilded Age baroqueness around the camp. But they also stand as a mute testament to the fact that despite all the play and pretense here, the business held underneath these works of art is serious. The age to which these pieces of art belong is gone; only the lone and level sands of Old Bohemia stretch far away. These particular artifacts have a much stronger and stranger vibe to them under the growing influence of the 2C-B. Marshall can feel in the two Sterling-related pieces the hard, gnarled core of a meme remaining there after Sterling has been largely forgotten by the club. "Look at me and Bill Shakespeare hanging out," the "Me and Bill" sketch seems to say, with George conspicuously putting "me" first. "I am just as good as him, just as immortal; we're on a first-name basis." Some irony, perhaps? Sure, but there's an unmistakable odor of ego on this piece. The meme underlying it all has desiccated and dried out; it has no juice anymore, despite evoking the Bard, who in and of himself as a symbol carries remarkable memetic staying power. There's nothing memetically alive on either "Me and Bill" or "The Sigher" anymore, no Goddess of Victory or Iconic Storyteller ready to spill their guts to Marshall... just fossilized remnants. The friezes have a stronger presence, though still nothing that could be called memetically "alive." They are of the same nature (and probably by the same circle of artists, Sterling and "Marty" included) as the hallucinatory "history of art and philosophy" frescoes at Coppa's that were destroyed in the Earthquake. The "everyone from all walks of life" frieze evokes the artistic and professional tradesmen who frequented the Grove in the pre-'Quake days; the "Semper Virens" history of California frieze over the nearby bar radiates a pulsating, dark green manliness; it's a play on words on the taxonomic name of giant redwoods all around, Sequoia sempervirens, along with its Latin meaning of "always growing, always potent, always virile." This is where Important Men come to Drink and Grow Their Empires, and the memetic energy here is closer to conscious. The entire area smells, thanks to Marshall's 2C-B-aided spiritual synesthesia, of brown liquor, pine, clean crisp currency, semen, and his father's cologne. Finally, Marshall's drug-aided eye falls on the little shadowy sketchy self-portrait of Xavier Martínez. Marshall can't help of the afternoon he and Mitch and Viv spent with Kai at Tecolote Pec (https://www.san-narciso.com/scenes/1ejnl7dakqpnbvqr0vzbk3m93xavkd), surrounded by the artist's rambling home and the chaotic energy his life with Elsie and Kai seemed to embody. The little sketch seems to move to Marshall's eye in the half-light of dusk, long sequoias' shadows seeming to undulate across the little crude painting's surface. The memetic core of this art is just like the Sterling pieces, a hard little nut asleep in its shell, but Marshall can sense something half-alive in the little caricature of the artista y pintor. It feels like the figure is straining to say something to the only man conscious of its presence here.
Inverarity — 9/2/24, 5:24 PM
Marshall approaches, squinting slightly, focusing intently on the self-portrait.
MutantsMichael — 9/2/24, 5:58 PM
An echoing exhale seems to emanate from the Martínez sketch; Marshall feels the reverberations of the breath jutter up his spine. It speaks of long captivity, humiliation, a lifetime of aspirations crushed. There is fury there, but it is tightly bounded and contained. This artistic statement of identity, of belonging, of artistic community, has been twisted into a testament of lost possibility. A voice, then, whispers from within the canvas, faint, scared and defiant, alone. "Noteco... ¿para tlen ax tiitztoc queja ne sequinoc?" (As with the goddess Nike, Marshall on one level hears these words in the language the memeplex/spirit wishes to express itself with, but also can comprehend its intent and meaning perfectly well thanks to the drug's entactogenic properties. This should be understandable in Google Translate with the Detect Language feature.)
Inverarity — 9/2/24, 7:33 PM
Marshall walks right up to the portrait, like he is examining the brush technique, right hand raised at his lips in a contemplative way. He murmurs aloud: "I am like them. I just think differently. Who are you?"
September 3, 2024
MutantsMichael — 9/3/24, 7:23 AM
As if to underscore the obviousness of this answer, the figure gazes down at the legend on the sketch, but soon understands what this man who "thinks differently" means. "Na ni se tlatitlanketl tlen Mictlan." "Se tlayoualotl tlen tlakatki tlen tlaxtlauili uan inspiración artística. Pero iniixpa nopa tominpiyani, na san niitztoc quej se tacajcahualisti. Se trofeo. Se mascota." (edited)
Inverarity — 9/3/24, 9:41 AM
"A trophy ... but one that's not quite dead yet." Marshall glances around. "Why is that, do you suppose?"
MutantsMichael — 9/3/24, 9:43 AM
Will-18 please, then a skill check.
Inverarity used
roll
Dice GolemAPP — 9/3/24, 9:45 AM
@Inverarity rolled
3d6Will-18:(6+5+1)= 12MutantsMichael — 9/3/24, 9:46 AM
Teaching-16 please.
Inverarity used
roll
Dice GolemAPP — 9/3/24, 9:48 AM
@Inverarity rolled
3d6Teach-16:(5+1+4)= 10MutantsMichael — 9/3/24, 9:54 AM
As if this question had never occurred to the little caricature of Xavier Martínez, the aura of fear and bottled vengeance that surrounds this little sketch of Marty's artistic ego cools slightly to Marshall's senses. The shadowy silhouette ponders this. "Uelis pampa na ni se tlen nimomakixtijtok tlen se tlaltepaktli tlen polijki. ¿Uelis nojua onka se chikaualistli tlen eltok, uan nechpaleuijtok?"
Inverarity — 9/3/24, 10:37 AM
Marshall considers. “I don’t know. I’m still getting a handle on how this works. I’m just a guest here, you see.” He lights a cigarette and leans against a nearby wooden beam sporting a kerosene lamp. He’s trying to seem “normal” and “nonchalant” in that way of someone who’s having a paranoia high. “Something about the idea of you must still be viable. Mark Twain told me that there’s different versions of him in different places because that’s … anyway, if you’re here, someone must know you’re here, or at least,” Marshall pauses a second to think, “or at least have an idea about what you represent in this place. But if this is a graveyard of memes — does your daughter know you’re here? Kai? Are you an original … ?” Marshall runs a hand down the edge of the portrait, like a buyer at an auction (edited)
MutantsMichael — 9/3/24, 10:52 AM
"Techichtequilijque ni cuatitlamitl. Techchiualtiaj ma tikitakaj kenijkatsa kiichtekiaj tlen achtoui eliyaya toaxka, xiuitl ika xiuitl. Na, tlen ax nijpiya chicahualistli, san notoca mocahua para nimomanahuis. Elij se ritual tlen pinaualistli."
[10:53 AM]
A sudden sharp sob. "...Nosiuakone?"
Inverarity — 9/3/24, 10:55 AM
"Nosiuakone? Sorry, I don't know what that means."
MutantsMichael — 9/3/24, 10:56 AM
Will-18 again.
Inverarity used
roll
Dice GolemAPP — 9/3/24, 10:56 AM
@Inverarity rolled
3d6Will-18:(5+1+2)= 8MutantsMichael — 9/3/24, 10:57 AM
Acting-14.
Inverarity used
roll
Dice GolemAPP — 9/3/24, 10:57 AM
@Inverarity rolled
3d6Acting-14:(3+5+2)= 10MutantsMichael — 9/3/24, 11:03 AM
Marshall can feel eyes on him from the bar area, as more early arrivals have begun to congregate, but his behavior at the art installation is subtle enough to not prompt any curious onlookers to approach. He is getting a bit of an hairy eyeball from these CEOs and bankers, though. Marshall turns that single Nahuatl word over in his mind and soul again and feels instead on an emotional, empathogenic level the aching loss of a being who never knew his own daughter, or indeed his own wife; whose artistic genius connected with something deeper and older, even before coming together with the rest of the Old Bohemians to reinvent the world. Stranded here and now in a cage for the mockery and derision and gawping of the moneyed Bohemians who succeeded them. Marshall's mention of Elsie and Kai has slightly fractured this memeplex's emotional aggregate and gotten him asking different questions than endlessly cycling through his mourning over his mighty artistic imagination being trapped here.
Inverarity — 9/3/24, 11:38 AM
“Oh,” Marshall takes a drag of his cigarette and glances at one of the bankers, cocking an eyebrow in a way that suggests the banker has the wrong idea. “Yeah, yes, your daughter. She lives in … hold on … it’ll come to me … Piedmont! Nice place. A bit rambling. There’s an owl outside, so, you know.” He says that last part like the painting does, in fact, know. “Anyway — I can’t dawdle much longer. They’re watching me. But I’ll get you out of here before I leave. If I can.” He carefully stamps out his cigarette and throws it in a bin (I assume they have bins for cigarettes in 1973 Bohemian Grove). “In the meantime, remember what Freud said: ‘In her youth she had ridden horses, and no doubt when she was still younger she had actually been a horse.’” Marshall winks at the portrait and walks away.
2
MutantsMichael — 9/3/24, 11:54 AM
When Marshall moves away from the painting, its emotional aura changes to one of yearning, yearning for freedom and a different "life" from the one it's known for sixty-some-odd years. The darkening sky has that fractured, quadrangled look to it again, like the ceiling in the St. Francis bar, but the stars are riveting. Marshall walks, eyes occasionally drifting up, past clusters of men conspiring, huddled over cocktails or hot toddies, flashing eyes filled with greed and power. In fact, there, on the northern shores of the Lake, are Governor Reagan and Ed Meese, smoking cigars with a few other California luminaries from Dragon and Mandalay camps. Reagan must be a guest of one of them this year. Reagan and Meese are riffing with ease with the men, but Marshall can sense an unsteadiness, a fear in their eyes, like they feel like impostors here. Curious. As Marshall moves along to the center of camp and the small man-made lake with its giant misshapen, moss-hung Owl Shrine effigy, a powerful sense of a slumbering spirit hits Marshall square between the eyes. It is present, but not awake and not aware. It is far, far more powerful a locus for an overarching spirit-memeplex frequency than either Nike's statue, Marty's painting, or the "streets of San Francisco" were for the Storyteller. But at the moment it is an empty effigy, a "speaking statue" with no voice inside it, but the residue of annual incarnations over decades have left an unmistakable patina here; upon the Cremation of Care tomorrow night, this is where the Spirit of the Age, the zeitgeist, the owl-eyed deity of these Bohemians, will manifest.
Inverarity — 9/3/24, 12:13 PM
This one-two punch of information has Marshall on his heels a bit; he is going to head back to his cabin or whatever to take a nap before sunset. As he goes, he's still looking for Archie. (edited)
1
MutantsMichael — 9/3/24, 12:17 PM
I think Archie would be spottable (having a conversation with Fred Merrill in the outdoor auditorium) since Marshall got to the center of camp before heading back to his bunk at Hill Billies. We can also say the two of you made arrangements to meet up at a certain time on Thursday night to exchange intel.
1
Inverarity — 9/3/24, 5:04 PM
Later, before the ceremony, as he changes outfits, Marshall does a bump. What does one wear to a hoary conquest ceremony? he thinks. The Greeks probably did them naked. Not that I’d want to see any of these men naked. “How do you change the idea of an idea?” he says aloud to himself, then looks around to make sure he’s alone. He thinks: if we are to the Real what they are to us, what does that mean? One would say an idea cannot change itself. Does that mean we cannot change, either? We’re all just projections, right? Shadows of something else, something “more real”? But if we can change, that must mean they can too. Maybe they just don’t know how. Maybe they need a messiah, a Buddha, a Jesus, to teach them how they can change — really change. Marshall grins despite himself. He adjusts his shawl. “Yes,” he says, when Don asks if he’s ready to head out to the ceremony. He changes his face into something charming and mysterious and follows.