Daily Archives: August 17, 2025

00470606

I wonder what Nada is doing back so early? thought observing Greg Odgen from his studio apartment, an extension of his STAB gallery introduced toward the end of (photo-)novel 45. And who is her friend? he continues his pondering. Has she, um, switched over to women? Maybe she’s tired of dicks, or at least that one dick that calls himself Philip Strevor, ha. Oh, she sees me. She’s waving. Good ol’ Nada. She deserves better, yes.

“Right through here, Lexi,” she says after returning her arm to her side. “I think you’ll be quite pleased with it.”

When she walks up the stairs and through the purple glass beads that match the color of the couch she’s interested in, she finds herself in a different world, just like fellow Gaston visitor Osborne Well before her back in section 04. Now to get to the bottom of this. About 10 posts or so to go! Should still be on target to finish the thing around the end of August.

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00470605 (Central Park/ Stuck like Fly)

Dark Peak. The Power.

Blue Boy knows.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0605, Back Rooms, Gaston^^, Hana Lei^^

00470604 (76ers)

“Mt. Sandraman,” exclaims Eddy, not tired at all from the hike up since it’s only a 42 meter peak. Still he’s very happy they reached their intended goal for the, er, (photo-)novel. 6 sections in; kind of cutting in close….

“Pretty,” admits Shelley laying beside him in not nearly so high grass this time. Nor wavy. No wind here on *this* New Island. Or very little. “But nothing like the black and white one in my dreams.”

She rolls over, faces Eddy, her Edward, her New Island husband and just new husband period. “We can’t stay here, Ed. You know that.”

Eddy exhales. “I know.” He was tired of the argument of 6, slavery — at least in its triplicate form — vs. 7, freedom. He had to let all this go.

“We lost our thought-to-be villa.”

“We should have never left Sandraman here,” Eddy reinforces the loss. Perfect, though, they knew. For a brief time. Oh well.

“There’s always Gaston,” she tried to brighten the mood. “Dark Peak — more good times, right Ed?”

“Yes. Good times. But laaagggy.”

“Yeah. Austin is there, though, 3rd down in the pile of Firesign Theatre members still performing weekly at the Rhino. Or 2nd up.” She edges a little closer. “We could, let’s say, pluck him from the rest, sit him down and talk to him about… stuff.” She looks heavenward, as if seeing more in the sky. “And there’s also his island (sigh). More good times. It seems they would never end. Infinite supply of… you know.”

“I know.”

She rolls over again toward him. “He probably set all that up, you know. He wants to stay on our radar. Probably wouldn’t be too hard to manage. Look at what I provide you, he might say. Do this in remembrance of me.”

“Shel-ley,” reprimands Eddy, glancing over at her with a scolding look. Neither were religious in the traditional sense. But both also believed in the concept of evil in the form of, let’s call it, non-freedom. Witchcraft could be an element of that. Black magic. Control.

“At any rate, he wants us to read him. We also know that from Colorado.”

Eddy sat up. “Where are we *going* with this?” But he couldn’t help playing footsie with her through the frustration.

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