The artist whose name sounds like Rothko sits opposite Andy Warhole, one a-hole of a guy.
“The soothsayer will be here soon and we’ll *see*…
who’s the better artist in hyperspace and hypertime.”
“Just hypertime will do. I don’t do hyperspace.” His voice was level and confident, like he was the more famous artist already instead of a basic unknown. Andy was threatened. He’d been to Gabby several times since we last saw him over in Cassandra City (Moe’s –now sold!). The picture was clearing in his smoky ball. Andy was not the most famous artist of the land! Gabby then explained this was in hypertime — Gabby worked mostly in hyper worlds to see his visions, he said — and thus there’s *time* to change the outcome. Gabby didn’t illuminate the idea of complementary hyperspace to the rather dim witted Warhole; probably knew it would be a waste of his breath. Hypertime was enough for today. The stage had been set. And here he was, murderous covid ravens circling above and outside this tiny cafe perched on the top of Yellowmoon or thereabouts. With the artist whose name sounded like Rothko but wasn’t Rothko. Close! Close enough for Andy. Because Andy indeed thought he was this artist. He had trouble resolving near from same in his fuzzy way of thinking, and Barry was just playing along with the confusion. So this would be another Post involving Close.
Thoko: that’s it. Maker of fine designer women’s clothing. But that would become a front for something much more deep and sinister, like the Amazon itself. It was like going from Nowhere to Somewhere…
Ant arrives from his castle in the distance. Harrison Jett will shortly show up from his castle in the opposite direction acting as rear guard. Soon the battle will commence in earnest.
(to be continued)
He was going to be a different kind of artist. He was going to make holes, but he was going to cover up holes. Of sorts. Time to meet up with his other art friend in the sim. He should have some works ready by, say, next Friday? He’s got a long weekend to catch up. And he is catching up (*splat*!).
He’s a maker of magical jeans, dresses, tops, all the rage in Our Second Lyfe in yesterday’s tomorrow which is today. Almost. It’s the 11th dream day still. He works fast so he uses Paint 3D. He’s made a pact with a fire demon burning brightly and steadily in the center of it all.
His name is almost Rothko but not quite. If you googled it, the search engine might think you were looking instead for Mark. That close: Close City close.
He doesn’t have a lot of fans yet except for Sandy, who bought a designer dress off of him day before… well, Saturday. Sandy Beech, who we’ve already met over at NWES City, a world hemisphere away from this Corsica continent and its peakology and all. There are peaks on the Jeogeot continent but not the notable sharp, rocky kind like here. Barry likes peaks; that’s why he’s in Yellowmoon or thereabouts; that’s why he *might* also be, before or after or somewhere in-between, on that double peaked mountain near NWES City — on its overarching or inclusive or *umbrella* island. Barry sortof named Rothko. Thothko? Not quite.
It was in the Cub Run thrift shop on that city on that island where Sandy found the catchup stained dress. Hmm, he thought, unhooking its hanger from the rack to take a closer look. He’d never seen art clothing in a consignment store before. With its cute bow in the middle (he continues to think at the time) it looks exactly like — Oh *God*. He pays 300 lindens for the red and blue dress and quickly leaves.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0607, Apple's Orchard, Black Ice, Corsica^^, Jeogeot^^, Marwood, Neptune, Northwest^, NWES Island^