Monthly Archives: November 2025
00480608
“You know, I’m kind of tired of all this, Wendy of hot dog restaurant fame. I think I’m going home. I think I’m going over to Nada’s tonight instead of staying here. I think I’m… leaving.”
But Wendy didn’t care. Wendy was merely a stand in for another. Again.
—–
—–
“How was Little Hell today, Philip?” Frank asked while they were gathered together once more around the dining table at suppertime. Or thereabouts. Frank just assumed he wouldn’t go to Heaven. The 2, upper level doors to his high castle in the skies labelled such don’t naturally swing that way for him, being an Id figure and all. Disposable by the end (of the game) as stated.
“Oh. The usual. Think I’m going down to the coast tonight for my r&r, though. See if Nada is still hanging around Lexi’s place.”
“Good idea.” Mouse was absent from the castle too, having gone back to the Amazon’s cement pond to confer with Pansy about more YouTube Poop possibilities. He knows now that the rest of New England is key for the movement of the main castle down through the states (of consciousness?). Now maybe Frank can enjoy a little peace and quiet about the place. Maybe time to call up Daisy, ask her how her day’s been at the bar. And remind her of that *third* date. Because tonight, he felt, was the night, Miss Mistletoe 2025 and her waiting lips being more a distant thought than ever. He knew about her real life Nigerian origins with the mother priestess and all, and her continuation of that ancestral calling in virtual Rodentia. He knew that the father had something directly to do with the out-of-this-world Non she wanted to develop, and why she came to Jeogeot’s only inland sea of Nawt Vaya in the first place. She’d heard about the alcoholic sea monster, what issues for the Hole in the Wall it caused. An opening had been revealed. Non-alcohol would be all they could serve, which slotted in perfectly for her plans of Our Second Lyfe dominance in that department. All has been revealed about the family that needs to be. Time for a different kind of revealing, of a more intimate type. Frank was ready. Now the question on his mind is: was Daisy ready for this kind of commitment?
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0608, Little Hell, Omega^^, Southern
00480607 (Jeogeot continuation)
He was in the cemetery again or perhaps just outside, Linden-Linwood-Lime all arranged around an edge that =s the county of Genesee in the state of New York in the country of Our US of A. “A linden in England is called a lime,” he recites again while standing amongst the limbs of the small tree, his head dangling there like a low hanging yellow-ish or green-ish fruit or something. Primed for a fall if he didn’t watch out.
(It was) an old mantra dating from his days as a Greta Gaeta bartender in what I dubbed the sim of Clemscott but is really, actually, just Clewis in a name change I can’t even recall the rational for now, more (heretical) mythology imposing on HIS (Our Second Lyfe) reality. “Who was that shadowy figure?” he also said at the time about the African-American boy who left the overgrown lime on his bar counter and then mysteriously disappeared down the stairs never to be seen again by him until the Omega times.
He also remembers a monk entering the sim of Rookwood — true name this time — looking for the place he would be buried among all the dense growth of linden trees and plants, perhaps representing the burial of Linden Lab created Our Second Lyfe itself. Right now it is in its “gracefully aging” stage.
Moreover, in the top photo of the present post we’ve returned to another cemetery in Virginia like this one. More Lime.
Parallel stones.
Careful, Philip Linden. Careful. Avoid the trap of Vertigo; don’t fall in quite yet. We need you still. All of us, the Bakers, Wheeler, all the core figures. Don’t go right now. Wait a spell. Your time has not yet come. Hang in there baby, etc. TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0607, New York, Virginia
00480606
“Gemilly!? But… we were suppose to be a *team*!”
“Gem-i-LEE!!! Yeah just *keep* on walking! WO-maan! Woe to me for ever getting *involved* with you!” he continued to sulk.
He followed her for a couple more football fields worth of terrain until he gave up as he watched her move past that rocky hill with the single tree on top. And he too was single now. A lone man in a heavily masculine oriented metaverse that didn’t care that much about the girl to begin with. Good for her that she ran away.
—–
Eventually she found her way to an even better role on an entirely different planet with a really proper script for her to act from, even donned his Atlantis style clothes to symbolically complete the exodus from the Gardenspot of the Universe that some call Jemison. The fools, she thought while continue to walk in a straight line away from it all, even at this great great distance. Who’s the fairer sex now, Rib Boy? TBC?
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0606, Starfield
00480605
Passing by this root system the other night I could have swore it spelled out “Howdy Stranger”. In fact, I *know* it did. But when I tried to recreate the spelling: nothing really that close. How could this be? Was it just some kind of sleepy time hallucination? Or was it someone… something communicating with me inside the game again, like had happened before with other ones. *Swore* it said, “Howdy Stranger”; even stopped the video at that point, thinking I’d come back to it to take a snapshot the next day and it would obviously — *obviously* — still be there. But, no.
Through the character of Albertville Mercury Spaghettiboro, now on Jemison in the Alpha Centari system in the metaverse of Starfield, I planned to talk about this “illusion” with on again off again girlfriend Gemilly Niceniece, a toolmaker from Kuum. I enter the underground section of New Atlanta called Brown Well either because of the color or the frequent brown outs it experiences — 50/50 split opinion on which it really is, or 48/52 as I better recall, although I don’t know which side has the slight advantage if that’s the case.
I spot her at the corner of Charlie and Hustle and throw her a, “You coming?”, which she replied, “In a minute, waiting on a part.” “Okay,” I said and thought about blowing her a kiss but then decided better as I headed over to Kay’s to save us a table.
Should be *any* moment, hmm. Food getting cold now, though. Better start without her, hmph. The revelation might have to wait until another day.
“*There* you are. Sorry I started without you. Did you (nom nom nom) get the part you needed?” She nodded… and then got up to leave. She just wanted to come over to say goodbye.
That part turned out to be an act. As in another play. TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0605, Starfield
00480604 (00420515 revisited (1/2 way))
“Get out the shot, honey. I’m trying to take a picture of that ghoul in the cemetery over there!”
—–
“My people were tough on crime. And they didn’t tolerate breaking the law either. We grew up in the shadow of a mountain that began with Wee-Wee. My mother, when we moved over here to the states in ’79, said to be proud of the name and where we came from. But I was embarrassed, always called it the alternate name of Onigbaporo however tongue-twisty and unmemorable that was to the white people of our new land. But when I found Pee Pee Creek over on the west side of Rodentia and its crazy cemetery and its baffling preacher church I knew I had also found a home again in this world of Our Second Lyfe. My mother was priestess before in the “Wee-wee” place we came from and now I became quote unquote priestess in the Pee Pee place, as male and female polarities also switched positions there. It all made some kind of beautiful, circular loop.”
I studied the photo she held in her hand, looked at the flat headed statue of her mother in the center square the townspeople chose to erect before they left, a permanent tribute to her famous presence in their small Nigerian burg. Then I looked up from the photo at Daisy’s flat hair, the perpetually shaving razor held by a ghostly, hovering hand next to it. I started to understand the dynamics involved. But there was still the explanation of her non-colored father remaining. Non, hmm, I pondered. Could that be the reason for the obsession with creating the perfect, non-alcoholic brew? Turns out this was so… partially. TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0604, Africa, Dokken Hollow, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, NVFS, Texas
00480603 (escaping Miss Ouri)
“I’m telling you, Mike,” Pat relays telepathically. “If the next box is one specific color, one *specific* color… then we can’t kill her. We just can’t.
“We can’t kill her brother of mine (sigh).”
2 boxes later, past the demonstration of TILE that placated the onlooking, desirous ghouls, she finds the key, the center of it all.
Switching from colored to black and white, she can now unlock the door with the Newton-Jasper cube indicating scale.
Damn, thinks Mike. 2nd one today.
00480602 (Alabama Phoenix)
I am far away from you now.
But I will return.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0602, Alabama, C2077, Small China, Starfield
Sunklands 