Category Archives: Canada/Picturetown

Mary York x 2

“See. I *told* you if we waited long enough he would change colors.”

“Very good, Sandy. I need to tell a story now.”

“Go ahead, Wheeler, um, Wendy,” encouraged Sandy. It was her turn after all.

“I was wheeling my way from Picturetown, trying not to be late for the Blue Feather meeting with Baker and, er, the other one. The green toy fellow.”

“You know his name,” Sandy complained.

“Anyway, I see my name on the side of a small square house as it comes into view around another house…”

“Lemme guess. Which has the same name.”

“Yes!”

“Do you want my apples yet?” asks Harrison Ford Jett opposite Sandy now, waiting his turn. He was eager to give them up. He wanted to be a man for Charlene.

“Not yet. We already have the orange and that’s enough for now,” answered Sandy. “Bananas: not needed.”

“So I’ve heard.” Harrison Ford Jett glances sideways at his own partner, his own bestie. They both knew something the other 2 didn’t. That Charlene the Punk was… well it should be obvious by the shirt. We’ll get a pic in a moment. Back to Picturetown and Wendy’s story who is the same as Wheeler.

“In that frozen moment, it was then I noticed a (red) car on the other side of the road from the buildings with my name, also coming into clear view from behind a passing truck. Before the obscuration I knew it was an ordinary car. Now, after the passing, it had a flat. Then *I* had a flat. I became the car.”

“Carrcassonnee?” Harrison Ford Jett guessed, turning his attention to the story and away from his gnawing apples, those chafing, gnawing things in his shirt-blouse. His head pivots to Charlene. “Carrcassonnee is a deity of the Temple…”

“I know who Carrcassonnee is. She’s talking about a car.” Let’s get a picture of that shirt in the pause here.

Oh well, turns out we can’t see it from this angle. Sandy presses the issue on. “Blue again,” he says while staring at the tiny snowman in the midst of it all, formerly All Orange. We’re losing the reader’s attention.” He wondered if he remembered that line correctly. Must be director Eraserhead Man breaking the 4th wall once more. He glanced at the camera, pretending it was the reader he mentioned. He complimented himself for the improvisation before fully coming back into character.


Wheeler/Wendy as a car.

“I looked over at the square building again. My name was obscured once more (around the corner). I knew I couldn’t make it to the meeting on time. Then, in a flash, everything changed. A boy came by on a skateboard.”

(to be continued?)

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on the run 02

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“Grrr, grrr!”

in the progression of sheds red mysteriously switches with orange

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on the run

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ghosts

“We’re getting closer to something Hucka. I can feel it.”

“Jigsaw pieces,” she responds monotone-like. “Obvious resonance, yes. Keep going.” Her arms were still crossed.

“I’m going to look out the (endless) window again. Explosions! Larger, then smaller.”

“The car, right.” She threw up her hands in a gesture of something blowing up, but still kept the same look. Baker Bloch knew he didn’t have much time before she left again.

“I’m going to figure it out tonight.”

“Riiight.” And then, poof. Gone.

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her name is Mary York (York, Mary)

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Vicki?

Since a Rosehaven Yarn Shop exists in both, I’m playing around tonight with a further melding between Picton, Ontario and NWES City of Our Second Lyfe.

Best additional resonance: the overlap of the also recently opened Her Majesty in NWES City with the Regent Theatre of Picton. Notice the parallel crowns in the center of the matching pictures below. And then notice that a girl wearing all black except for a hot pink dress (and seemingly holding a somewhat less hot pink colored coat) is walking directly underneath part of the theater marquee featuring the name *Pink* Floyd. Best guess: since Her Majesty is a bigfoot/yeti in Our Second Lyfe, and a black furred bigfoot is seen standing in the other doorway of Her Majesty (the main doorway here is framing Queen Elizabeth with a kind of menacing look — pic stood out for me) with footprints from him (or her) leading down the sidewalk, then the black clad woman must also be a bigfoot in my eyes, perhaps Her Majesty again in some queer way as transferred from virtual to real. The pink overlap is just a way to highlight this.

And so the actual name of Our Second Lyfe’s Her Majesty may be Vic, don’t you think. Or Vincent.

(to be continued)

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Berry

Deep into the night, far past supper, the person formerly known as Amber and several other names decides to go into the city. She sits on the subway, wishing the town council would vote to get it up and running. But they have so much else on their plate! She’d have to walk.

—–

A new store: Rosehaven Yarn Shop.

But she didn’t have time to investigate tonight. She had to get back home to the Deep South of Black Ice by sunrise or else be found out by the parents. She was a man. She was a woman. Onward to the Red Rose owned by a Peet Aries who she’d never met but Dr. Baumbeer, the current renter, spoke glowingly about. Dr. Baumbeer: another changer, she thought as she passed the yarn store and kept in a straight line northward.

—–

She had to stop to look at a map…

… then she recalled the Red Rose wasn’t actually in the Neptune sim she was currently passing through. Instead: Apple’s Orchard. Where she or he had his or her earliest memories of the city. Good times. She remembers something about a neck. Neck City it was called back them, but that was a faulty implant, pheh. Much like… here she reached up with her left hand and felt something that had changed in the meantime. She recalled Sandy Beech doing the same. Or was it Herbert Dune. She looked around, feeling people watching her — cameras. But no one spotted.

—–

Like any urban area worth its salt, the city was changing.

She couldn’t go down this road any further — blocked in this direction. She checked her watch. 4:15. Time to be heading down to the lower side of Black Ice and crawl back in bed. The Red Rose must wait, she realized. For tonight at least, she would remain a woman.

(to be continued?)

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wedding 02

Barefoot Toothpick had a dream that night. The overalls were removed again. He was walking across a field of delicious green grass that should be a paved, car filled street toward a building that would answer it all. Instead it was full of playing kids and supervising parents who were also having fun, shrugging away the burden of responsibility for the time being. Fun. Toothpick should be having that too. But he had other things to do he knew were both right and wrong at the same time. It was as if truth were suspended in mid-air before him off a bridging pole.

The location? Picton, but it wasn’t called that any longer, not after this festival or whatever it is. The name was now Pict on Pict, short for Picture on Picture, a new blog category. Heck, let’s just call it Picturetown, or maybe Frametown if we draw out a bit more. But we can’t right this moment because of the setting, blackness or the abyss all around. Picturetown it is.

Elberta meets him near the threshold. Certain Death is both at the front window and nearer the door, another 2n1 situation since time is overlapping here again (Munday = Sunday + Monday). She knew she’d have to lose the body to go inside. They hold hands.

Not what they were expecting.

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00220616

Barry DeBoy stares at the blank canvas he knows he must fill in soon. CITY, a concept that must be born if the city itself is to be saved. Almost a 90 percent chance of it now. He’ll take the odds.

He pinches himself to make sure he’s awake (he is). Wearing the red tie has made him nervous about that down through the months — before, he was always dreaming when he had it on. No more. Something happened: a reversal, a change of heart even, he senses. Miss Graham has given it back. But why?

“It was me,” Hucka Doobie spoke at a nearby table.  Come on into the picture. PICT ON PICT. Come on,” she urged.

“What’s he doing?”

“She. But that’s what we have to find out. Temple.”

“Wheeler. Of course.”

“Yes.”

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