Category Archives: Haze County

March 14, 2024 · 4:07 am

00420305 (blow the doors off something (also: Rabbit))

Time for Mary Ball and Pitch Usurpius Darkly to move on to the next leg of their extended fishing vacation…

…. Fox Island at Endlessly Antipodal. Note that Antipodal is very close to antipoison, almost as if it was in the same jacket near the same pocket. Juliet-like, balcony standing Sepisexton we’re talking about here again and her hidden vial of the latter. Just in case, as she puts it. The former is included in picks by not one but two Yellowmoon Ridge landowners who seem unconnected to each other, er, otherwise (where we’ve just seen Shelley and Arthur). That’s why I knew I had to send the Darklys or someone else in my family of avatars there to check it out, interact with the landscape and perhaps the residents, if any exist.

Philosophy time now: Everything in Our Second Lyfe is connect to each other as if in a fractal environment. It all drills down to the same thing over and over. Only Outside can save us, something beyond Our Second Lyfe. Haze County where I actually live up in the Real World is an obvious, top level way to escape this void. Similarly virtual but much more intensely verisimilitudinous Red Dead planet too — if I can figure out how to get Jim Randolph the Bastard Pirate out of that fox body and into a human one again in St. Dennis, its only full fledged city and what some call the 8th wonder of that world. GoogleEarth and associated Street View is yet another way to latch onto something more real. Thing is, Our Second Lyfe is losing energy as games keep developing way above and beyond it. If it weren’t for the ability to create. Oh, and also the avatar customization and the incredible creativity of Our Second Lyfe residents in designing clothes, buildings, vehicles, all sorts of things. I seem to need to relay this to the reader of my blog to illustrate that I’m in sort of a tug of war between it and the rest of reality, including even other virtual worlds (and specifically, at least at this point, Red Dead Redemption 2, even though I don’t yet own the game itself, ha). I mean, right now in one of my other computer windows I’m looking at something that shouldn’t be possible. Something in Mary Ball’s old Killing Shack now located at the bottom of a lake in Decker on the original Bellissaria continent. How did I get to this point?


Then there’s the problem of OSL laaaggg.

So here we finally return to Pitch Darkly and Mary landing in their small fishing boat on what’s called Fox Island in the River of Bear. Of course it has other names — no surprise there — including Squirrel Island. Because of this little fellow, currently surrounded by sniffing foxes checking him out. But he’s actually a chipmunk; that’s what the foxes have surmised as well, being versed in Endlessly Antipodal geography and the naming of local things. “We’re still okay; still on top,” one speak-thinks to the other, actually being a part of one soul beneath the separate exteriors, a distinct advantage they have over humans.

Maybe we shouldn’t be so hasty in switching Jim Randolph the Bastard Pirate back into a human body himself. See what he can still uncover as an urban fox.

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February 13, 2024 · 6:55 am

Hazelwood

There’s also what I’ve labelled a blue room and a red room about the place, but let’s start with the yellow or golden one, central in several ways. Tania, a Valentine’s gift from Gladly in days gone by, stares at a computer screen depicting a Rainbow Sphere twirling merrily in on itself. Makes her think of Christmas and her maw. Golden bars stacked on a two tier table beside her. Small sofa with Saints style fleur-de-lis decorated throw pillows behind her of the same color. Her dress is also kind of the same hue. She sits in the middle of the manor, unobserved. The building she’s in twirls in on itself all around her too. One named Wayne, although the description says Wayen. Tania’s boss was never the best of spellers. Plumb pitiful actually, but don’t bring it up to her face or you may get a smack. So this is where we’ll begin.

The Maebaleia continent here is still relevant in Our Second Lyfe. So is Jeogeot, Heterocera, Sansara, Nautilus, Corsica, Gaeta V, Zindra, and, heck, don’t get me started about the various Bellisseria ones, as large now as all the original ones I’ve just listed combined I would suppose. Like Atlantis Rising — again in the middle of it all or between the 2 mainland hemispheres, linking them up in fact. Azores greatly expanded in relative scale.

Her replacement Patricia, a St. Patrick’s gift also from the past, arrives at the Secret Door Bookshelf waiting her turn. Not yet.

Still thinking of Xmas, she changes the screen. She replaces a beloved ornament named Girly Santa with a shiny new train, golden in hue as well up front, the place she decided it would poke out of the tree’s innards.

Her user found it in the woods. Just waiting for him. It turns a Christmas Tree into a Winter Tree proper, extending its life to, say, Arbor Day or thereabouts, he figures. Or at least March 17th.

Thanks “Bigfoot”!

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January 25, 2024 · 3:47 pm

00410609

“Excuse me, sir. If I could interrupt you for a moment.”

—–

“And so as you can see, basically when we cross the Dewberry stream we’re already upon New Site and Chapter 03.” Baker Bloch looked around at the assembled members of The Table, a larger number than usual just because this was such an important new development: the potential end of Our Second Lyfe. “Questions so far?”

“Are we still in Randolph County?” queries Wheeler directly across the table from Baker, still dressed as Atlantis High Priestess and fresh from another shooting scene.

“Tallapoosa, actually,” replied Baker. “Same with The Barroom, same with Mary, Camp Hill, Slaughters.” I through the brain of Baker Bloch make a note to look up all US Slaughters after all this is done.

“Hmm,” said Wheeler. A pause here.

“Grassy?” Baker spoke to the green Mmmmmm being sitting to Wheeler’s left. “Any thoughts?”

But Grassy was biding his time until spring and the return of outdoor plants, ready to make a move in the Mystery Spot of nearby Boulder highlighted in a section 02 post of this here photo-novel (41). “Not at this point,” he said, knowing he represented all Toy Avatars, all of his kind, in this opinion.

“Very well.” He turned to *his* left. “Newt: any comments or opinions or whatever?”

Newt, with old Axis-style pitch black German coat worn over modern agogo red-yellow-black German t-shirt, was also biding his time. Until Baker Bloch handed over the reigns of Aisle of Palms to him; make him mayor or whatever the title turned out to be. Maybe even King? With Wheeler his Queen, if so. After all, Baker Bloch is just kind of a Prime Minister figure in all this, having most of the power to create, etc., but not being the legal ruler of the land. That remained in Wheeler’s hands. So far.

Baker looked 2 seats down. “Hucka?”

“I wish to come back into the story,” she spoke plainly, directly, looking at him then looking at everyone else at The Table, wanting them to understand she was dead serious about this.

Another pause. “Well, okay. We can make that happen. Right gang?”

Murmurs of agreement all around, even the usually silent 88’s sitting to Wheeler’s right. Everyone knew the spiritual importance of Hucka to the blog, a type of Holy Ghost to the thing.

—–

Afterwards, Baker thought back to meeting the Bishop in an unexpected place off Old Wagon Road in central Maebaleia (continent), Our Second Lyfe must remain relevant being the overarching message he relayed. And then he took him diagonally to Redlands for a demonstration.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0609, Alabama, Big Woods, Boulder, Haze County, Jeogeot

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December 12, 2023 · 9:57 am

00410307 (the 1st Haze County entry (!))

Station attendant Ginger directed Marsha to a large square map hanging on the back wall. “So it is Lucky,” she said to herself, looking at the name of the nearby motel on the map. Just down the tracks as it turned out.

But in the unaltered reality, it wasn’t.

Mouse was right all along.

—–

“NC,” she said, staring up again. Could be either one still.

And then she walked inside the property to see what up. A considerably younger Octavia Tart awaited her appearance.

(to be continued)

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December 5, 2023 · 2:55 am

a new month, a new mystery spot

Brand spanking new pond (about 50 x 25 feet) found very near center of downtown Boulder NC. Too close? No. It is safe. You can go there and feel safe. No one comes here. You will be by yourself. You do not have to carry a weapon into this area. Relax. Sit by the pond. Feel at peace. Enjoy.

Nearby mini-quarry of several levels. Really a spectacular find, and for now I’ll call the whole area Neufoundland because I didn’t know of its existence even though I’ve walked past it perhaps a 100 times now, probably more. City path to the west, condos to the north and east. Houses to the south. But here is peace, here is love and honor and beauty. And rocks. Lots of rocks. And a pond (see above). And a retaining wall of some length. A small waterfall in the northeast part (yes, there are 2 identifiable areas to this one place, linked by that wall in essence). More to be found I’m certain.

There are a number of entrances into the place, but one that is logically the best choice. I call it Best Choice Entrance Point, BCEP for short. Made to order it appears.

Is this another entrance into Neufoundland from the city path to the east? No, it is not. But close!

Moving north on the path a bit more toward the town center, we come to this. Is this by chance an entrance? *Yes*. Although you may be filmed if so, or a sign just up the side path indicates such.

The whole thing is suspicious for several reason. How could I not have known about this place even though I’ve been exploring Boulder for the past 30 years? Waiting, is the answer I’m getting. Waiting for the right time to reveal itself.

Oh, a FAIRY VILLAGE on the northern boundary, although the buildings have been turned over and bunched together since my last visit a couple of months back, perhaps for protection from harsh winter gales.

But never fear, the townspeople stand tall and proud and strong on a neighboring rock, ready to pick up the pieces next spring. In the meantime: FREEZE I suppose, ha. Toy avatar humor there.

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November 8, 2023 · 6:28 am

00400611

“I still have a home on Nautilus. It was a retirement gift — very pretty there. Lots of vegetation.”

Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer, still dealing primarily with bodily fluids but hoping to graduate to full blown psychiatry soon, looked at his e-machine and gauged this was true. “Describe… gift,” he decided to say.

It was the end of 31 and it was the end, period. March 1 of last year, 12:01 AM we’ll say. Eddie D’Aigle, who sometimes preferred D’Aigle, Eddie, especially if he was traveling in the Orient, had just retired from the private sector of the records management business, having made his fortune archiving the files of rock stars Ozzie Osbourne, Ozmo Daredevils, and the like. His last blog article for the latter, the last he did overall, was about how the song “Jackie Blue” was changed from “Jackie Pink,” which drew the attention of Pink, Marsha, Krakow. He had the evidence before him as he wrote: the altered lyrics, everything. “It was suppose to be about a man who peddled drugs during the day while working nights as a bartender, a very Dada affair,” he reinforced to her in a reply email, then, seeing her avid interest, invited her up to [Blue Mountain] to look at the actual, revised lyrics herself. “Come with your driver’s license or a birth certificate,” he said, “and our staff will bring the whole box out to you; I’ll put it on reserve and not reshelve. You can look at one file at a time, and just mark what you want copied with green (START) and red (STOP) paper we’ll provide.” She ended up photocopying the whole box. New 3d scanner the office just purchased did the trick in a 10th the time it would have taken the old fashioned way. Marsha’s, in fact, was the first request accomplished using that method. Boxy Marsha, she went down in office legend as. Prototype. Especially since Eddie, on his last day of work, helped her tote the (wrong?) box to her still hot pink car, soon to change to yellow. Thanks to what was inside. In many ways, she became the box she requested, a black and white facsimile of herself.

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October 30, 2023 · 1:52 am

00400512

He had returned but he found himself more and more excluded from Ozma’s inner circle after a lukewarm reentry. “It’s *temporary*, dear,” she kept repeating to him. “I brought you back after all. You’re *here*; back in Oz, back to patrolling the Yellow Brick Road. And boy dear howdy that took some smooth talking to the inner council to get done,” she often reminded him. “So be *grateful*. You’re not out *there*.”

But it’s been months again, maybe years. When would his so called probation end here in the cornfield far away from a central power he was use to? Contemplation like this naturally led him to check the clock that always beats the times in his chest. 7:15 in Quadlingland, 3:15 in Munchkinland. And in the center, the middle, well: heartbreak.

He watched her slip away in the stalks, reminding him of that old Oklahoma song about a quirky little alien who comes to Earth and can’t get enough of corn, all types. He involuntarily begins to sing it in his head.

I like cornflakes, corndogs
I like corn bread and cornstarch
I like the band Korn and popcorn, I like all kinds of corn
ALL KINDS OF CORN!

He can’t recall the rest and, anyway, Ozma had already disappeared down the rows. Their meetings were almost as brief as in the Lost Forest when he was truly exiled. Now it’s still a false exile, an ostracizing by the rest. Scarecrow barely talked to him, feigning being constantly tied up with businesses of the mind. Lion similarly excused himself when encountering the famed metal being, saying he had to face down or have a tangle with this or that adversary who still lived some distance from wherever they were standing at the time. And Dorothy… he doesn’t even like to think of Dorothy.

—–

“I thought we were going to replace Dorothy with *me*,” spoke up the precious precocious child listening in on Marsha “Pink” Krakow’s latest version of her novel with a working title of “Lost Path of Oz,” changed from the earlier “Forgotten Road of Oz.” “After all, L. Frank Baum’s greatest goal was to please a child. And what better way to carry on that tradition than to cast me, a child as child can be, in the leading role of your book. Similarly, Vain and Artery Boyy replaces Lion, and Rock” — she looks over at him, dumbly counting the fingers on both hands over and over to make sure they’re the same on each — “well, we’ll work on him,” she admitted, sharing a smile with Pink about the irony.

“Maybe,” gleaned Pink, “maybe *you* should replace the Scarecrow, Toddles. And Rock can play Dorothy — you know what I mean.”

Toddles as the brains of the operation. She instantly likes! She automatically sees it is the right change to affect.

“No one is going to play ANYTHING until I get some ANSWERS!” Toddle’s grandma Alice Farrowheart had shown up at the reading in the so called Center Hole of Big Sandy. With a loaded shotgun.

Marsha quickly checked to see if this was in the book as well.

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October 29, 2023 · 9:18 am

00400510

He’d killed 2 witches defending the city gates and was ready for a 3rd if needed. His moral chip had malfunctioned, rendering him unable to tell the difference between Good and Bad. He’d have to be reassigned, at least until the city council cooled down about the murder of their beloved Glinda. Ozma, the true and lawful queen overseeing all, wasn’t too keen on the self righteous goody two shoes so no big loss in her eyes. Still: Tinsman had to go. The Lost Path of Oz seemed about right. Out of the way, but not too far so that the queen couldn’t pass through at times and see how he’s doing over there. When he was invited to one of her balls he’d know all was well again and that he could return. The moment would come soon, he felt. He’d served several years in the Lost Forest already.

Then chaos ensued — again. He misplaced his oil can, then just after finding it the queen passed through. He’s invited! But a quick shower came, and since the Tinsman hadn’t been able to oil himself for a while, he froze up — the famous legend based on Ozian facts got that part right at least.

Then, much much later, Toddles walked up with her new friends Rock Ramby and Vain and Artery Boyy. “Look!” the last exclaimed in his husky voice, made for the sea. “A man. A man made out of tin!”

“It’s called a robot,” mildly corrected Toddles, who then started looking around the immediate area for a lubricant container.

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October 24, 2023 · 10:41 pm

no humbug

“You don’t understand the corruption of Butterfingers. He and his big ol’ parachute came down from the sky and cast a dark shadow over the whole mountaintop, likewise yellow Brick Road, *everything*.” Spoken from the heart. Laura knew a lot about the Land of Oz. She, after all, use to live there. Right before they turned off the lights.

“*Money*,” she followed, looming over them and casting her own black shadow. “Money ruined it then and money’s ruining it again. Cheapskatedness,” she made up a word about the issue.

Earlier:

“2000 linden dollars,” he said in his nasal, boyish way about the price to custom spray paint her dune buggy, careful not to cross the southeast corner of the property else the spell might be broken. Or so the Wizard told him.

“Oh that’ll be fine,” she said dreamily. After she saw the finished product and received the exorbitant bill she kept asking why why why?? Magic was afoot here, she then thought correctly. And not the white variety.

Mrs. Ordinary felt the need to go over and tell new bestie Pink all about the latest Big Sandy mystery/sorcery. What better way to do it than to show her the revamped bug up close and personal. But the reaction was unexpected.

“I *love* it — except for the price of course. Let’s take it for a spin — say, the tiny restaurant again?”

When Marsha watched Mrs. Ordinary — Ginger (Ginger?) — pay the bill once more, including another bottle of expensive liquor, she got an idea. “Here’s a theory — do you suppose that word has gotten around Big Sandy about how much money you spend? Attracting the scheming boy?”

And this is when overhearing Laura at the next table came over and did her spiel.

“*Wait*,” exclaimed Pink afterwards. “Did you just say he was *yellow*?”

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October 5, 2023 · 2:49 pm

00400309

“‘And as the Tinsman kept standing at attention while Ozma was still in sight down the grown up road, a small shower appeared seemingly out of nowhere, just enough to freeze him up at that spot for a very long time indeed. You see, he’d misplaced his can before painfully refinding the object by sitting on it, and so hadn’t oil himself in a while since he didn’t have time to use it before Ozma arrived. The Queen of Oz rarely passed through these here parts, and I believe she may have even forgotten about the shortcut afterwards, perhaps all part of that spell which made Tinsman what he was in the first place: completely tin, with not a bit of flesh and blood human left in his body. And so it becomes the Forgotten Road of Oz, famous for where the Woodsman stood until Dorothy stumbled upon him and oiled him back to life, like pumping blood into his dried up veins and arteries if he had any.'” She looked up from the book she was reading aloud atop the Big Sandy knob known as Rocky Comfort and into her listening audience which was also her test audience for the work-in-progress fantasy novel. “Questions?”

“I like the vein and artery part,” offered listening Vain and Artery Boyy below, which Marsha “Pink” Krakow had anticipated and why she fit the passage into the book in the first place.

“Thank you.”

Rock raised his hand. “I have a question.”

“Yes, Rock Ramby. Go ahead.”

“What is a concrete manhole? I know what a regular manhole is. You seem to be interested in concrete in the book.”

“I wish,” answered Marsha “Pink” Krakow in several ways, “to make the book sturdy and stand the test of time. And so the concrete manholes — which are a real thing — get to that later — and the concrete bugs and trees and waterfalls and so on.”

“Lots!” reinforced Rock.

“Lots,” acknowledged Marsha.

“Me now,” said wee Toddles still between them, still acting the role of their child. “What about the ball? If Tinsman didn’t show up at the ball, wouldn’t Ozma become concerned and send a search party to look for him? Is this all a part of the spell too? Maybe the ball didn’t even exist?”

Marsha made mental notes to include what the precious precocious child said in her book. Of course she’d have to give Toddles credit somewhere and somehow.

“Good points!” she said to end.

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