#nullfolk

[nullfolknews]

Nullfolk Newsletter – May 21st, 2023

We’ve come barreling into the start of the end of banana month, finally. Hello, Nullfolk.

As mentioned in the line prior, we are so close to the end of the banana eating. While this month has begun with such glee and joy, the charm quickly faded and I’m sure I speak for every member of Nullfolk when I say, we’ve had more than enough potassium.

To begin with, a version of Jeffrey’s story from the previous issue has been approved for public consumption. To paraphrase, the tome that was found in the time capsule most likely has historical data detailing life during that era of Nullfolk and nothing more. Our wonderful mayor and all of his cool friends are hard at work copying down this information so that everyone can get to read it. We tried to reach Jeffrey for his thoughts on this version but he seems to have already gone off on another philanthropic quest.

With regards to the mayoral election, we’ve received an official statement from Town Hall:

“Can people please stop campaigning for mayor? We have not even decided on a date. We have not even decided if we’ll ever even have an election ever again.”

We do wonder how this news will affect the campaign efforts of our current candidate, Genais McDowell.

In other news, the rumored rumblings beneath the large metal box that sits atop the Easternmost Hill have been confirmed as only rumors by a police officer who went over to check it out and didn’t hear anything. We do applaud your bravery, Constable Ling-Hua.

Speaking of the Easternmost Hill at which nothing ever occurred, the hivemind of teens who run the vape shop formerly known as the Nullfolk Library have released a brand-new flavor inspired by the lack of occurrences having occurred there. The flavor will Herby and will feature the tastes of salt, awkward silences, grass, and strawberries. I look forward to asking my friend’s teenage nephew thinks of this new taste when he eventually gets around to trying it.

And now, your five-day forecast:

Normally the Void is up to something mischievous and cool, but this time around it seems that the Void is just generally chilling these days.

So as the Void has, please take some time for yourself to rest.

In the coming week, Old Hershal will finally complete his community service. He is indeed now forever branded as a menace to society and it is expected that you will always treat him as such. Within this week, we’ll also begin a brand-new month! We’re so grateful to be done with the month of bananas.

And now my eyes grow weary as my cat tries to get my attention. We’ll meet again soon enough, Nullfolk. The lovely noise that should keep you company hereafter is Hands on the Water by Skyhill.

[bobby-the-wallflower]

Nerd³ Plays... Boneworks - Part 2 - The Nullfolk

[nullfolknews]

Nullfolk Newsletter - May 14th, 2023

As we peel away the days, another week is plucked ripe from the bunch. Hello, Nullfolk.

It’s been a while but this week we heard from our good friend Jeffery. For those who might have forgotten, Jeffery is the philanthropist formerly known as Dennis Walter. Since the debut of his new name, Jeffrey had been fairly absent from the public eye. We caught up with Jeffrey and his philanthropic adventures.

“Well, babe,” said Jeffrey, as his gloved hand caressed his bald head sassily, “The better question to ask is where haven’t I been?” Side note: we asked him where he has been. He continued, “I’ve been simply everywhere. I built a well in Alaska, I brought bricks to Tanzania, I carved an inspirational mosaic into some rocks in Uzbekistan. But it was on April 20th when I visited a few of my Tibetan monk friends to celebrate that I got a bit of a message. One of my friends had suddenly gotten a vision. So, I said, by the way, it’s probably going to be so weird when you quote me quoting someone else, anyway, he said,” And then he made mention of a few things that my editors inform me should not be repeated to the public without further confirmation from the mayor and/or the secret council that makes decisions for us. Either way, it’s wonderful to have you here once again, Jeffrey. We can’t wait to see what you philanthrope next.

Aside from that, the mania of banana month has finally started to die down. Most folks have resorted to simply eating the banana as is, and most of the banana based fast food items have dwindled in popularity. Mild-mannered ice-cream salesperson Justin Frederick has voiced his content for this decrease of interest in banana flavoured ice-cream, his only qualm being that now the demand for pistachio has begun to normalize once again.

This week has been a slow week in total for Nullfolk. So much so that the rumor mill has produced rumblings of rumblings being heard beneath the large, metal box that is now located at the easternmost part of town. We here at the Nullfolk Newsletter would just like to make a gentle reminder that there is literally nothing there aside from that large, metal box, and no activities worth mention has ever occurred in that area.

And now, your five-day forecast:

The Void crawls as an infant would, towards a plugged-in clothes iron. “Careful!” calls its caretaker, but the Void is far too unaware to pay them any mind. The Void touches the hot surface with its tiny little sausage fingers, but the iron was actually malfunctioning and failed to heat up. The Void turns to the camera and says, “Look at you, and your subverted expectations. Never doubt me again.”

Never doubt the Void again.

In the coming week, there is a possibility of the entirety of Jeffery’s story being published, but this is entirely dependent on the approval of the mayor and/or the secret council that makes decisions for us. Some spoilers as well, we may be able to expect news about our mayoral elections, news that we’re sure Genais McDowell to be over the moon about.

And now that the air has grown frigid around my workstation, and nowhere else in the town. I must bid you farewell for another week. The lovely noise that should keep you company hereafter is Hanabi by Peach Illusion.

[nullfolknews]

Nullfolk Newsletter - May 7th, 2023

As the sucker breaks through the earth by the side of its parent plant, so too does this, the first week of May! Hello, Nullfolk, and welcome to the month of Bananas.

In celebration, many local eating establishments have launched brand-new banana themed menu items. I’ve been personally travelling all around town to taste each and every one. Here are the ones I’ve tried so far; in order of the order that I remember them in:

The Banana Secret from Miss Betty’s, which is a pepperoni pizza but the crust is stuffed with banana cream.

‘Nana Encrusted Chicken Strips from The Chip Shop, which is exactly what the name suggests

The Lobananotomy from Chi’s, which I don’t remember what it was.

Banana Knot Bread from Wolfgang Von Bakery, which is a braided loaf of bread, but instead of three strands of bread, it’s two strands of bread and a banana.

BNN+3A from Qwee’zn, which was actually a twelve course tasting menu that utilised every part of the banana, including the air that exists around it.

Old Hershal also tried to set up a platanos stand, which unfortunately tricked many people into thinking it was in alignment with May’s theme. They accidentally went a whole day without actually eating a banana. For this travesty, Old Hershal shall be serving four weeks community service. We at Nullfolk News feel nothing but joy at the fact that he is being punished for his dastardly actions.

Justin Frederick took some time-off from his campaign against pistachio ice cream to discuss his reaction to the news of May’s theme. “I am extremely worried,” he said, his eyes hovering over the horizon, “This would mean an increased demand for banana ice cream. I only have one bucket of banana ice cream. It is literally the worst flavour. No one has ever wanted banana ice cream before and now everyone will want banana ice cream. Honestly, I am afraid. I don’t even make banana ice cream. Most of my flavours are homemade except for pistachio and banana, because making those at home would soil my sanctuary. Now I’ll need to purchase more banana ice cream. This is a disaster. I only restock, like, once a year. This is a disaster. Do you know how it will pain me to see people pretending to enjoy banana ice cream? Pistachio may be a lie, but at least the flavour is enjoyable. Banana, on the other hand? As honest as it might be, it still tastes like fraud!” He then held his face in his hands and began emitting a low humming sound which was heard even after we left his presence.

Aside from that, literally nothing else important happened this week. Perhaps a mysterious stranger might have given a certain box wrapped in linen to a certain mayoral candidate. There is a chance that an old tome had some secrets uncovered as well. But we shan’t report on these matters for legal reasons.

And now, your five-day forecast.

The void has been shirking off the task of trimming its underarm, but perhaps taking the time to take care of itself will help it to feel better about itself, even if it is something as small as general grooming. This week, the void is a metaphor for you.

In the coming week, we continue May! Though it may feel like a waiting line for June, as days tend to be, we shall surely live some life within these few incoming days.

Now our dialogue comes to a close, while you’ve scarcely even muttered a word. No matter, we will be fine. The lovely noise that should keep you company hereafter is À Peu Près by Pomme.

[nullfolknews]

Nullfolk Newsletter - April 30th, 2023

Like marbles bouncing against ceramic tiles, somehow, another week has clattered into our lives. Hello, Nullfolk.

My dearest reader, I must sincerely apologise for the lateness of this publication. At the very last minute we had to rewrite the entirety of this week’s issue as we had received a cease-and-desist letter from some particular unknowable person that we shall not name. They have found it unnecessary and, shockingly, a breach of their privacy for us to give so many details of their ongoings. That being said, this past week has offered many interesting events for us to review that hinge very little on said individual’s activities.

At the very beginning of this week, a brand-new large, metal box was unveiled to the public. It has been set up around a hill on the Easternmost Hill for literally no reason whatsoever. Citizens of Nullfolk have been flocking to the large, metal box to get a photo with it. At the unveiling, the mayor informed us that, “This box was put up just for fun. There is no reason for it to be here in particular, we just thought it would be cool to make a large, metal box and put it here where there might have once been a hill but who even remembers anymore? It’s been so long!” He gave us his signature chuckle and suavely walked back to his mansion.

On Tuesday something might have happened with regards to some unknown figure returning to the docks to meet with someone who handed them a box wrapped in shiny linens, but whether or not this happened, we shall not report it.

Genais McDowell held her press conference this Wednesday, and almost all of the press showed up. In her opening remarks, she promised free lunch for anyone who asked easy questions. From the conference we now know that her favorite colour is purple, she prefers sunny weather, and her dogs are named Fifo and Avco. The lunch she provided was delicious.

After the conference, she was seen greeting her supporters and friends, as well as an individual carrying a box who [redacted]

Our good friend and local plant growing expert Jonathan Larkins has announced that his corn has now been planted, and he expects wonderful yields in time for Farmer Fest on July 8th. We’re all over the moon about the potential boiled and roasted ears that we have come to know and expect from Jonathan.

And now, your five-day forecast:

The Void stretches longingly, as though its hungry skin craves the touch of a long-gone, but ill-forgotten lover. It remembers the soft press of its ear against their chest and begs the empty air to hear their heart beat so gently again. Wear your seatbelt.

In the coming week, we begin May! The secret council that makes decisions for us has declared that this will be the month of bananas! Please ensure that you eat at least one banana with every meal. Please do not eat bananas in place of meals.

And here we have stumbled upon the end of this week’s letter, dear reader. The lovely noise that should keep you company hereafter is a map, a string, a light by Yvette Young

[nullfolknews]

Nullfolk Newsletter - April 23rd, 2023

Like the "ba-dumf, ba-dumf" of a new-born’s heart, another week comes marching into our lives. Hello, Nullfolk.

This last week began with a bit of a shaking up. On Monday, a charming, precious, little hill troll emerged from beneath the hill in the easternmost edge of town. Literally no one expected there to be, of all things living beneath this hill, a hill troll! Right beneath that hill that no one is allowed to go near. The one so unsuspecting that we barely ever notice it anymore. The one that is, apparently, cordoned off by glowing purple and yellow ropes and beads so that no thing that breathes air may even stumble close. The one that, as though in a photo, just looks like a big, blurry mound far in the distance. You know the one. The one next to the sign that says “Danger! Hill Trolls Live Here.” We here at the Nullfolk Newsletter were simply in disarray at the news because no one, and I cannot stress this enough, no one could have expected these events to unfold.

The hill troll did, in fact, give a name; but us as humans have long lost the parts of our ears that can process those sounds. We have opted instead to call him Herbert. He gave the following statement:

“I have seen it,” said Herbert, frantically, as he bounced on his adorable little hill troll heels, “The sea will drink the sky, and the sky will eat the earth, and the earth will suckle the stars.” The little cutie pie then began to carve adorably cryptic ruins into the walls of the local vape shop, formerly known as the library. We were worried about the owner’s feelings, but the hivemind of teens that run this microbusiness seemed to be more enticed than perturbed by the cool new decals on their storefront.

The mayor has, however, chased Herbert back beneath the hill with a broom and instructed us to pretend that it never happened. So, of course, in keeping with our wonderful mayor’s iron fisted demands, we implore you all to disregard the entirety of what you have just read.

And on Tuesday, the same day on which our visiting stranger went to the docks, we celebrated free street food day. A day in which all street food, legally, must be free to every single customer. Unfortunately, that one esoteric religion that all street vendors seem to follow also had a holy day that coincided with the event so they all went on a retreat and no one got their free street food. This has been the seventeenth year in a row that this coincidence occurred. Hopefully we’ll have better luck next time.

Then, on Thursday, was an event that I’ve been waiting my whole life for. The time capsule was finally opened! In truth, this event means the world to me. Ever since learning of the time capsule, it had become my dream to write and publish a weekly newsletter so that I could inform the public of the wonderful things therein. And finally, here we are.

Thursday morning, bright and early. The dew still sat on the grass as we gathered in droves. Our hearts beating, our breaths bated. Anticipation boiled in our stomachs as butterflies danced between knots. A small stage had been erected behind the plaque that marked the burial spot of the time capsule. The mayor and all his cool friends gathered around the plaque with their shovels and began their arduous task. The mayor broke the earth, and they all toiled away. The smell of freshly turned dirt and the sounds of grunts filled the air as the time capsule was, bit by bit, unearthed. They stopped only to wipe the pooling sweat from their brows before continuing to work. After hours of digging, the capsule was fully exposed. They then all hinged forward and, with perfect deadlifting technique, pulled the capsule from its resting place.

The capsule was pulled onto the stage in full view of the audience. It was a perfect three-foot metal box stained a reddish-brown with images and phrased intricately carved into its sides by the steady hands of a master craftsman. We have not yet been permitted to share the exact details of these carvings in permanence with the public, but we can say that they were really, really cool.

The mayor then took an ornate key from his jacket’s inner pocket. It was a key passed down from mayor to mayor at their time of election, which most believed to be purely emblematic. With a shaking hand, the mayor placed the key into the front keyhole of the capsule. The audience stared on in awe. A few people laughed, a few people cried, most people were silent. The mayor then lifted the lid of the capsule and began to pull from it treasures of the past.

There were many pieces of dishware and tapestries. Bits of arts and craft made by children who, by now, would have aged out of living were also found in the capsules. An old tome carrying a dark and somehow hungry aura was also in there. The most interesting of all, though, were the photos of our ancestors. Farmers and grocers, ice cream men and inhalant peddling hiveminds, hairdressers and newsletter writers, just like us, only dressed in older fashions. It’s truly incredible how the more things change, the more they stay the same. Many letters had also been written for the descendants of those citizens from oh-so long ago, which were all shared out to their rightful owners.

As the capsule was closed, Carl Shepard sat again in his little chair from which he had protected the capsule through the years. He closed his eyes for the last time.

That aside, here is your five-day forecast:

In the following days, the void will grasp onto the debris of a crumbling earth. It will squeeze the remnants of former lives into stars and hang them in the sky for young love to flourish beneath. The void hopes that these young lovers remember to buy new lines for their gas tanks.

In the week ahead:

We can expect to hear or see nothing about hill trolls as I remind you that the thing that happened on Monday absolutely did not happen. Genais McDowell has announced a press conference this coming Wednesday, which should give the press lots of time to find something to conference her about. The mysterious stranger who is wearing yellow pants at the time of you reading this is considering attending.

And so, another letter has come to a conclusion, as all things should and will. The lovely noise that should keep you company hereafter is Da Yu by Zhou Shen.

[nullfolknews]

Nullfolk Newsletter - April 16th, 2023

As another week wanes to a beginning, and the cock crows an arrhythmic take on a long-forgotten hymn, we meet here once again for another little review of the goings on in our little town.

Earlier this week, Genais McDowell has announced her candidacy for mayor of the town, though the mayoral elections should be months upon months away and have not even been officially declared. In her first official statement she informed the press, “We may just be a town, but under my mayoral leadership, we will soon become an independent nation, and I will be your first president.” She then mounted her bicycle and posed for photographs with the friendly teens of the general area.

Mild mannered ice-cream salesperson Justin Frederick (no relation) has chosen to stop the sale of pistachio. “I have paraded this green vanilla around for far too long and, frankly, it makes me sick to my stomach,” he said, wistfully,” Every day I leave another child licking this moss-coloured deception, and every night I cry myself to sleep,” he tenderly continued, “Pistachio is a lie. You cannot expect freedom to be won for you. Pistachio is a lie. You must stand in your own truth and win that freedom yourself. Pistachio. Is. A. Lie.” This news, I’m sure, comes as a shock to all of us. We will keep you all updated as this development develops.

Luckily for the mysterious stranger who we continue to know nothing about, their preferred flavour of ice cream already was vanilla, so the news of the pistachio posturing has not affected their wellbeing. Though the same can’t be said for approximately 73% of the community, we here at Nullfolk News are so happy that your ice cream enjoyment is unimpeded during your stay here.

And now, your five-day forecast:

The void will hold the shape of foreclosed love. A man clinging to a woman in desperation, a woman who has so long ago let go. An equal and opposing desperation within them both. And whether their wilted love rots away or sprouts anew, the void doesn’t care. The void is the void. The void has but one concern: that you tuck your lacings in after tying them.

And in our upcoming week:

The time capsule will finally be opened! This Thursday at the square, the capsule will be opened in the presence of our wonderful mayor and his cool friends. We are all on pins and needles and bobbins, eager to learn of the wonderfully miniscule things our dead relatives have hidden underground for all these years. We’d like to give special appreciation to Carl Shepard who dedicated such a great deal of his life to making sure that no one would dig up the time capsule too early. I’m sure this week will make it all worth it, Carl! And your days of bodyguarding a big metal tube in the ground will soon come to an end. Rejoice, Carl! Rejoice for Carl!

The mysterious stranger also has plans to be at the docks on Tuesday for whatever reason, we truly could never even hazard a guess.

Well, dear reader, there you have the little, but most important updates of the activities in our town. And after another wonderfully harrowing week, I do hope to meet you back here. Same time, same place.

The lovely noise that should keep you company hereafter is Comfort Me by Phildel.

[nullfolknews]

Nullfolk Newsletter - April 9th, 2023

From the looks of things, our little town is on the cusp of being shaken awake by gruff hands at the end of a warm smile that says, “Wake up, sleepy head! It’s a brand-new week!”

Local philanthropist Dennis Walter set up a podium earlier this week in the centre of the Square to announce to the media and the bystanders and the vagabonds that, and I quote, “It’s about time we had a new me, babes! My name is Jeffrey now!”

When pressed by the media on the reasons for this change, and on whether or not he will continue to philanthrope, Jeffrey responded, “That sounds like information that only Dennis Walter would be privy to. Jeffrey was not present for the making of this decision, babes!”

While Dennis Walter will be sorely missed, it is lovely to see that Jeffrey will carry on his legacy by calling everyone “babe.”

Speaking of new things, a new visitor has come to our little community. We know literally nothing about them so far apart from the following:

They are a thin, tall, tan person with delicately androgynous features. Their hair is black and falls in tight coils around their face. They have a small scar under their left ear from an unfortunate run-in with a stray cat during their childhood. They carry a large brown purse and wear a pair of Air Jordan Raging Bulls in Black and Varsity Red. Their mother tongue is Italian and they are extremely perturbed by the fact that I am reporting all of this via newsletter as they read it. They were so taken aback that they almost spilled their black chai in their cherry-red rental Honda Civic that they have parked at the Valley Mart parking lot, where they did not purchase said black chai, and began scrolling on their phone as if waiting for something that would take an indeterminable amount of time.

We at the newsletter hope that you enjoy your stay here, mysterious stranger. Where do you come from? Why are you here? Will you ever leave? We couldn’t begin to fathom. We know literally nothing about you. You’re such a mystery!

Local plant growing expert Jonathon Larkins has, for the first time in almost twelve months, shared his plans for the current year with us. According to Larkins, this year he intends on producing and selling crops in markets both inside and outside of the town. Wonderful news all around, I’d say! It’s simply lovely knowing that we will continue to be fed by a plant growing expert such as Jonathon.

And now for your five-day forecast:

Each breathe will be brittle, coarse against your heaving lungs. The truths you uncover will strike your back, unceasing, unforgiving. You will crumble knowing that the sheer terror freezing your fingers in place is just, and well deserved.

Don’t forget to unplug the kettle.

A few other bits and pieces that we can look forward to in the not-so-distant future:

The construction of our new local library is carded to be completed by the end of June. It is said that this library will be filled with knowledge so fresh and exciting that no one would ever be able to know it, lest this library be completed. I’m especially excited about this as I was a huge fan of the previous library. Since it had been commandeered by the local teens and replaced by a garment and vape pen retail outlet, things simply haven’t been the same. Sure, the graphic tees are fine, but the information they contained skewed more on the side of ancient and cosmic, which just was not undiscovered enough for my tastes. Not to knock anyone who prefers that particular “old ones-esque” flavour of information, it’s just not what tickles my knowledge pickle, per say.

Some more exciting news. Later this month, we will be opening our 75-year-old time-capsule! It will be so exciting to see just how much things have changed since that arbitrary day in that arbitrary year.

It seems now that the static lines that shape themselves into the ongoings of our little town are growing sleepy, and so this little monologue between you and I must come to an end. I do wish you a beautiful week, dear reader. The lovely noise that should keep you company hereafter is Cicadas by Little May.