Back from the Void

As some of you may know, last December Mr. Fish was generous enough to assume blogging responsibilities seeing that I was bogged down in lettering the graphic novel. Not soon after both Mr. Fish and Velma disappeared for 8 months. No word from either of them. No one was returning phone calls and Mr. Fish stopped emailing and blogging.

I naturally assumed the worst.

Then this morning my phone rang (at a very early hour mind you).

JUSTIN: Hello.

VELMA (Very Loud): SWEETHEART!!

JUSTIN: Who is this?

VELMA: It's Velma, hon.

JUSTIN: Jesus, Velma, I thought you-

VELMA: Kicked it. Yeah. A couple of people thought so. No, Nicky and I were off for awhile.

JUSTIN: I'm assuming you can't say where?

VELMA: Of course not. It's not that interesting anyway.

JUSTIN: I'm starting to think you work for the government.

VELMA: I'm starting to think you don't work at all.

JUSTIN: Ouch.

VELMA: I mean, nothing. Not a single post since December.

JUSTIN: Nick told me he had it covered. Actually he told the readers. I didn't even get a head's-up.

VELMA: Ah, whatever. I know you and Courtney have been busy with the graphics novel.

JUSTIN: Graphic.

VELMA: WHAT? Oh. Right. Graphic.... Well, I've been thinking about some things.

JUSTIN: Oh yeah.

VELMA: I think we need to make some changes.

JUSTIN: To what?

VELMA: To this blog thing. We might've been going at it all wrong.

JUSTIN: I'm not sure there's a right or wrong way to do it, Velma.

VELMA: I do. Let's talk about it.

JUSTIN: Ok.

VELMA: Can you meet up with me tomorrow in my office?

JUSTIN: Actually I'm not in the city right now.

VELMA: Well where the hell are ya?

JUSTIN: Martha's Vineyard.

VELMA: Oh I see. Must be nice.

JUSTIN: It is.

VELMA: Well, when do you get back in?

JUSTIN: Can we meet the beginning of next week. Say Tuesday.

VELMA: GREAT!! Come over my way, noonish. Make ya a tuna sandwich.

JUSTIN: Yummy. See ya then.

VELMA: Right. Bye now.

I guess we're back in business.

May 6, 1932

A note was left in my campus mailbox today stating that, in one week's time, I am to meet with Tobias Finch, Private Investigator at 8:15 PM under the far staircase of track 16 in Pennsylvania Station. The note said to tell no one and bring no one. It also said that I was in no danger and could be of great help to him in a very important investigation.

What could this all mean?

From the Desk of Nick Fish

Readers (if there are any of you left):

The wait is over. Now, over two months since Mr. Rivers's absence from the blogging process, the word has been handed down from both Mr. Rivers and Ms. Graydon that I may continue the process where he left off. At last check-in Mr. Rivers was still mired in the lettering of his graphic novel and happy to turn the work over to me. Also, I am pleased to report that I have been given full editorial discretion which means entries will be posted with more efficiency.

I shall enjoy communicating with Ms. Graydon's readership in the future. Thank you.

Best,

Nick Fish

Velma Weighs In

Velma gave me this handwritten note which I have been asked to type out and post on the blog for your information.

Thanks,

Nick Fish



Dear Readers,

I feel this note is long overdue. I am a computer phobic which might be trite, I know, for a 96 year old woman but true nonetheless for me. It has been one of my longest standing battles to master the machine, but alas, I fear the machine may end up mastering me. For that reason, I have been woefully out of touch with this blogging process. Thank God for assistants like Nicky and the help of Justin who bear with me through it all. One types out my chicken scratch and the other reads it back it to me.

Recently, I have had the good fortune of sitting down for a series of conversations with our blog master. A couple of times over the past few weeks, we met, shared a drink and chatted about the journals which you have been reading for close to a year now. They were a ton of fun and personally, I hope I get to read them on this very blog soon. I was even given the honor of previewing some of the pages of the graphic novel he and Courtney are working on and of which I am featured in. I find it important to mention that he has stepped away for the blog for a few weeks to begin lettering said graphic novel. Mr. Fish might continue the process in his absence, although I suspect that might ruffle a feather or two where Mr. Rivers is concerned.

But really, reading my awkward, self-important, 19 year-old self has made me feel young again. And I thank you from the bottom of my 96 years-young heart for sharing this journey with me. It is a wild one with far too many twists and turns for my comfort, and one for you that has only just started.

I sincerely hope you enjoy it as much as I have.


Best Regards,

Velma Graydon



Photo: Pages from THE WONDER CITY, Courtney Zell

May 4, 1931

Met with Fox last night at the Bakery. After throwing back a whiskey with me, he said that by the description of the man I was giving him, it sounded like someone by the name of Tobias Finch was following me. Fox said he is a private eye usually hired by the very affluent to investigating heists and thefts. He occasionally comes into the Bakery and was in last week having a drink with Mick and Rick. When I approached both of them, they both said (so eloquently) that he asked nothing about me. How strange this all is.

Irving was no where to be found today. I left a note on the door to his office saying I had come for my session. I sincerely hope he's alright.

In the most important news, I received another letter from Robert. He has made it to Edinburgh and is staying with his grandmother as Mrs. Vanderford has given him leave to see his family while they're in Great Britain. He says he will stay the reminder of the month and rejoin Mrs. Vanderford in London. He said many times that he missed me and wished I was with him. How I wish the same. He said he has no doubt his grandmother would love me.

And through all this I have finals to attend to. I can hardly believe my first year at Barnard is drawing to a close.

May 1, 1932

I have confided in Dottie that someone has been following me. There have been at least six occassions since Jacob Vandewater pointed out the tall gentleman three weeks ago that I have noticed him every once and again when I'm off campus. For some reason I can't bring myself to tell anyone else but her about it. He seems to trail far behind me that I can never make out his face, but like some secret agent or mysterious gumshoe of crime novels, he wears a gray hat and trench. He is abnormally tall, at least 6'4", I can't be sure exactly. Besides that he's only a shadow lurking behind me.

Dottie said that she thinks Fox the bartender at the Bakery can help me. She said he knows all the "shady" characters. With that, I think I'll pay him a visit.

Tomorrow night, Dottie, Sarah and I are going to see Tarzan the Ape Man at the Roxy. It will be my first time at what they call the cathedral of the motion picture. Perhaps my tall mystery man will join us.

April 20, 1932

MR. LINCOLN--ST. JOHN THE DIVINE

OFFICE: 9:30-10:30 AM

NOTES:


Communipaw village had a special relationship with the Native Lenape inhabitants. It was from them that they learned how to cultivate the land for cabbage growing and the surrounding river beds for oyster hatching. They were known for harvesting an overabundance of each.

These two factions of Communipaw came to be, those who cultivated the land and those who cultivated the water. It wasn't until the British took over the region that a small group of founding father began collecting the materials for the archives which was started and kept in the House of the Four Chimneys, a "lordly mansion" built by a Dutchman named Van Horne.

All Communipaw Dutchman had a fondness for smoking pipes. It was said that decisions could not be made in the community without the founding fathers smoking their pipes in consultation. It was said that the natives showed them how to dry a special tobacco blend which helped them raise the spirits of the land and sea.

The Communipaw were very insular and suspicious of outsiders coming into their village. For the longest time, Dutch was the only language allowed to be spoken in the households of the village.



Some of this really sounds ridiculously perculiar. I wish I knew why I had to sit through this.