July 15, 2026 · 1:12 pm

00500616

I’m about to end 50 before she even starts 11 but that’s okay. 1-10 is a solid solid beginning, a whole block of novels as in a city, building up from 1 2 3 4 and now even 5, a topping square (wonder why they call them city blocks instead of squares?). Anyway, both being retired we have the rest of our second 1/2 lives to proceed forward with reading each other’s stuff, hopefully a long time both quantity-wise *and* quality-wise. Hand in hand. All along keeping in mind The End is not that but merely another beginning.

See you on the other side, reader!

END OF “SUNKLANDS 2026 EARLY”!

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July 15, 2026 · 1:12 pm

00500615

“Status report, Newt. How’s the state of Concrete? Solid still? Holding firm, etc.?”

“Cement Village is good, although the attached Concrete name has gone the way of sand, ha. With Boos — inserted behind it about a month ago as you might recall — it now forms 1/2 of Boos-gota, a portmanteau of the 2 inclusive series.”

“Like lukfast,” Hucka Doobie deadpanned from behind, still staring at Concrete on the screen and wondering if they’re ever going to move to slide 02. Been over 3 months now.

“Fine, fine,” answers Baker Bloch, leading the table meeting per usual. “As long as it’s still there. And what about Frank’s Moving Castle? Any news on that? Pardon me for being behind but I don’t get inworld much any more. Not like the old days when I was King and Blinks (female Baker) was Queen and Wheeler was just a secondary avatar not as much used.” He turns right. “Right Wheeler?”

“I am the new Queen,” she stated matter of factly. “‘Blinks? Who’s Blinks?’ the reader might ask here, not even knowing the name. Even dedicated ones, say, caught up with the last 10 — no, make that the last 40, ho. She’s just that far back in the past. Like Carrcassonnee. Remember Carrcassonnee, Baker? Baker Bloch was it? Because you’re getting that way too. Newt here, my sometimes boyfriend, oft times hubby, has assumed your old role. Will this change? Newt is the Whitehead in da Woods, the retired version of yourself as you configured it. No going back in my opinion. You will continue to get more obsolete and eventually fade back to the black you came from. Right Hucka Doobie?” she calls over the top of his black hatted head, almost blowing it off we might imagine, or at least displacing it a bit around his crown.

“That’s not fair, Wheeler,” she says, directly confronting the affront. “I’m human and not bee now. I’ve changed too. Baker *Bloch* over there lost his mask in, what was it, photo-novel 02? That’s about it for change for him.” Might as well have added a “Right Baker?” to complete the triangle of hate not love.

“But not like me,” Wheeler volleys back about the change. “Admit it.”

Hucka Doobie wasn’t going to admit nothing. And now she’s insulted Baker Bloch too, who glances back at her with a rather icy look with his two still dead eyes, no change there either.

“I’d like to hear about Frank’s Moving Castle,” says round, green Grassy Noll in his toy avatar voice across the table. Everyone had forgotten he was there, more fading. “If you’ve finished your ROW, that is!” His voice raised, he quickly turns a bright beet red from the top down to the surprise of all. Let’s end there.

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July 15, 2026 · 1:11 pm

00500614

He’d finished the so-called Game of Life, retirement reached and final paycheck secured. But thanks to a state pension the Paydays keep coming in the game *after* Life, what we can call this Afterlife after the place Newt’s arcade here is located, already seen earlier in section 06.

Yes, we’ve returned to the subject of Omega, as in Our Second Lyfe continent this time. Here we have not as much a second life per se but just the second *half* of life, taking into account all the extra time one has, the overall quality of that increased time raised due to getting the right amount of exercise, sleep, so on. Right foods. Not wasting away in an ultimately dead job going nowhere. Going *somewhere* now. To death? Sure, but really having a lot of fun along the way. Exploring a true calling, my actual job all along, waiting for me at “the end”. So to me, the game called LIFE only has it half right. And also Second Life too, which is just a game nested in Real Life.

“Have a good 1st day of the rest of your life, sir,” spoke arcade attendant Charise, knowing what he just played.

“I sure will!”

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July 15, 2026 · 1:11 pm

00500613 (Omega sign)

Frank waited and waited. He heard sounds within. Someone was there (!). Being recreated as it turned out. Overt religious messages were fading from the truck as well as the mtn. behind. Everything was becoming alien oriented, JESUS, for example, being reconstructed as 6EQUJ5, “Love is Universal” turning into “Life is Universal”. Would he approve?

Again: no.

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July 15, 2026 · 1:11 pm

00500612

“Okay, there’s the sign with a red arrow pointing upwards again. Thanks Leptune, you sly green and yellow corn dawg! Weren’t clowning around with the sign shadow after all. But of course I can’t travel up from here — into the sky (or *can* he?). So I guess I’ll have to follow this other arrow pointing left.”

Then travelling down the indicated dirt road leading to a small trailer park, he remembered he’d been here before. A very very important side mission in the game called Grand Theft Auto, version 5. One that requires us to help build a spaceship… or so the description goes. TBC?

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July 15, 2026 · 1:10 pm

00500611

Probably the last structure has been added to my Nawt Vaya Free State property for this here photo-novel, 50 in a series of 50 and still going. Another old one: an abbreviated version of the Kidd Tower that was conceived over 10 years ago and where we’ve just seen Mr. Babyface sitting on the topmost floor of in the post before this one. Frank’s Moving Castle, still also in NVFS as of this writing, appears to be testing its flavor. 🙂

As stated, Mr. Babyface is no longer with us, having perished in the Korean Channel sim synchily called Orgamast thanks to that unexpectedly appearing water funnel or whirlpool or something. In his place we have Okama Majo now living in the building, also taking up Babyface’s study of the Big E/Big Schwa. Through his video feed, he stares at Orgamast here like his baby faced predecessor did before. He understands the meaning perhaps even better. All Blue. TBC?


stare, take 02

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July 15, 2026 · 9:05 am

000500610

Back home, Andie and I have an argument about whether the color of Little Alamo is blue or green. Andie says green. “But your midsection,” I then notice from my position in front of her, the same one where it all started. “Is *that* blue?” I tested.

Andie looks down. “Same.”

“Same as in my opinion or same–”

“Same,” she cut me off here.

—–

“Perfection,” Mr. Babyface says about the Big E/Big Schwa on the table in front of him while huffing and puffing on his favorite tobacco brand Blue Pennant. Could have been talking about either blue, then. And this not long before his demise in that mysteriously appearing water funnel off the coast of Orgamast. Which he stares at here, realizing where he’ll die and then just as quickly forgetting about it, warning ignored.

—–

“You — we (she said after a pause) — have a Venus problem,” she summarizes, still standing before me with back turned to that interestingly colored, palm rimmed pool of non-Linden water. Placed there for a reason, I understood. Attractor.

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July 15, 2026 · 8:25 am

00500609

“You’re going to have to give all this up, Newt/Baker. Else–”

“Slavery. I know.”

—–

“The red, yellow, green I can accept,” she said, indicating the colors of her own body across from me. “But the *blue*. Too much!” It was a line drawn. Black and blue I become in the above times. I have to avoid this!

Given all that had been revealed, though, she was acting quite reasonable. A reasonable demand. I’ll have to think it through. TBC

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July 15, 2026 · 7:06 am

00500608

“RUST is The Body, the thing being penetrated by a rod. But, more importantly, RUST is *US*. Bottom line: We’re screwed. The country is divided into two parts, progressive and conservative, yang and yin. We can’t keep holding this magical sphere together with just duct tape and safety pins. The guts are going to start spilling out.”

“I’m trying so hard!” says Wheeler, who then gives up the act and moves on to the next collage.

“The Boos are let loose in the ensuing chaos that equals Mars, the God of War, the only thing that can, let’s say, *unite* the two parts at this too-late-of-date. Fear and Panic let’s call them, as they are. The (rusty) Body teeters on the edge of a cliff above US. What happens next?”

“Devouring,” she identifies correctly. “Just like with the hand. Bite the hand that eats you,” she ends cryptically.

Let’s go back to the cafe next. TBC

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July 13, 2026 · 2:53 pm

00500607

“Here. You can go here. RA-CY,” she reads from the sign. “Racy. You are allowed.”

“Thank you chaperone!”

—–

“The legs are too long,” she says, looking over the body stretched out on the couch in the burg office center’s 3rd and final floor, hands behind head. Like Bigfoot. Like her feet, she might opine, if she were actually, truly alive.

“I know. But I tried to change them and it didn’t work.” 10 to 9, I thought to myself but not bringing it up out loud. I was just astonished we had gotten this far. She continued…

“What of this, er, wound to the belly. Explain.”

After a pause: “Just to add to the realism. A different texture… with the masking tape and all.” Later addition, I then thought to myself again.

“Let’s get into the more delicate matters,” she quickly continued, as if wanting to get this over.

“Alright.”

“The pipe.”

It was here I had to bring up the witch.

——

“There’s no one in there,” she attempted to clarify later, trying to stay as level headed as possible. The thing was actually *breathing*, she thought.

“No,” I said.

“Never ever?”

“No,” I said as firmly as before. It starts with her, it ends with her. The Body. Receptacle, yes, but never anyone inside.”

“Not [delete name].”

No again.

“You’re sure.”

“Yes.”

“Just you.”

A pause. “Yes.”

“In everyone involved.”

Another pause. “Right.” Pause. “Everyone.”

“This… witch,” she returned to that subject.

“New Island witch, yes,” I said. “Mid-Hazel,” I named her.

She shook her head. We had had enough for this morning. TBC?

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