Category Archives: Colorado

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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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0604, Colorado, Gaston^^, New Island^

there is no Steamboat Kelly, only Leroy

She looks over at the back of Pumpkinhead and thinks: Pumpkin*ass* is more like it, pleased that she doesn’t have such a big rump. She turns her attention back to Tammy, focuses in on the information she is blabbering on and on about. Brownsvile. Cleveland. Steamboat. Marsha gathered she’d heard or learned something in childhood that didn’t hold a bit of water when she grew up, except for the fact there was a Steamboat Springs in Colorado in the same state as a conjunction of Leroy and Kelly, albeit in a county pretty far away in a pretty big state still. Tiny places, perhaps extinct. Couldn’t have been a factor in the mistake. Not *consciously*. “Tell me more about the Browns in Maps,” she decides to say in a pause. “How about that place called Brown’s Bench you mentioned earlier,” she starts her out on about the spot she lost the train of thought — started thinking about rumps. Rumpus Ridge, big ball of twine — LOST. What did it all mean? Oh, shoot, there she goes again. “I’m sorry, Tammy, I was blanking out again — nothing to do with your *excellent* subject. It’s just…,” and here Tammy begins again without warning, without waiting for an explanation from Marsha Pink Krakow on what she was thinking in her own head. Tammy was talking hers out loud per usual. She: more internal, thoughtful. She heard Bench and then Rose. “Biding his time, hmm,” she says about what she thought she just heard.

Leroy Kelly was a star running back for the Cleveland Browns in the late 60s and early 70s. But he had to wait for the retirement of Cleveland’s greatest star ever before he too could shine — not as brightly of course, because we’re talking about the one and only *Jim* Brown, perhaps the greatest football player of all time never mind greatest runner. Certainly most Ohioans would agree to this, Clevelanders or otherwise. Leroy had to sit on the bench, bide his time until the greater star’s early retirement at the age of 30, shocking the sports world, since he was still on top of his game, it seemed.

I’m going to find them, he thought outside, not being able to see thru walls yet. He *senses* them, and they probably do him as well, at least Marsha does, being more open to those kind of things. If they per chance lock eyes it could be over. Safe at home for now, though.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0606, Colorado, River, South Dakota

stranger

Suddenly, miraculously, she had shrunk down, her weight even closer to Zero now as she’s checking. Crocogator watched from atop one of the floating ducks in the distance, somewhat disappointed the tale hadn’t gone on. But Story Room calls. Residents.

The world becomes solid. The curtain closes slightly more, just a slither.

Suddenly we are in a different place altogether.


Hmph. How’d I get over here??

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0513, Colorado, River, West Virginia

now

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0502, collages 2d, Colorado, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File, Washington

00390415

“Why from the Abyss,” she answered the hot dog guy, trying to guess the ambiguity. The Christmas look and the green nose didn’t win him over. “Gracious goodness I’ve forgotten the name of this festive thingamabob growing out of my nose,” she said just earlier, talking about it before he did, they all did (in her mind). “Not mistletoe — that’s for hanging *above* your head, not *off* it, ah ha ha ha ha!” Did the laugh convince?

“Well it looks like a big long booger,” he said crudely, and then asked if she wanted relish on her big loong dog. Disgusting. Why did she come out of hiding in the first place? To deal with lowlifes like this beach bum? This nobody? “Where you from? Woman?”

—–

Where indeed? There were *elephants* in her Abyss now, another sign she had to go, along with the rest of the avatar family. Zimmy is obviously Jimy. Jimy Z., gone as sure as Zimmy since he was also dead. Only the symbolic Liverpool plane remains: big red machine, twitch of the Morgan, lumber for a Bench. Red as Rose, another archetype and more obvious. Red Star becomes Old Red Star and is banished from the game he so so loves. They bring in a Foster boy and he turns out to be just as legit as any of ’em. Conception is an error caught between the legs. Perez just is. Geronimo! (and he died) Griffey had a Junior who took control. One through eight complete. Visible compendium. No need to worry about the zero and the nine. They were enough by themselves to carry the team through any troubles, ride it to victory. Never mind who pitches what. What’s the pitch, Pitch? Didn’t matter. They were enough. Biiig lumber.

She went to talk to Willy Wonka in the past present future to give him a piece of her mind, dodging big piles of elephant doo all along the way. They met at the south end of the property, where we’ve been before, CROOKED in clear sight through an opening between palm trees and rocks. “You *don’t* understand,” she complained while indicating. “Those are *historic* buildings over there.” “That *junk*?” he reiterated, trying to think of new and more effective ways to derender all that for his fancy smancy artsy fartsy photos. “It looks like, I don’t know, a giant kid ate a whole bunch of tinker toys and legos and then threw up.” “*Moard* *Ling*”, she kept defending. “You’ll never hold a candle to him… Wonka.” It took a while but she had learned to respect the prolific prim creator, stuck in the past but with lessons to teach. Sometimes the past is better, at least in part, in ways. This is what she learned from Constantynople, soon to be no more here. She was about to have her last pass through it. She spotted the purple garbed guy — another *former* after all, another one living in the past. Why can’t he *see*?

It could have been different.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0415, Colorado, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File

00370512

“Still in Nanon Sweet Morning light in the room in the room, box springs are broken next to hand springs. Colorado.

“The place: BIONaz Gulch (sim) next to Snowmass near Woody Creek. Colorado. Woody Woodmanson loves Snow — comes from that land and sometimes hung out with fellow native Snowmanster and then seems, later on, to himself animate a snowman after moving back to Collagesity with the rest of the Baker family in photo-novel 04.”

“Let me guess (for the 3rd): Colorado.”

“Correct.”

—–

“We could go with several but let’s use Jack Torrance leaning against a Colorado map in Kubrick’s “The Shining” while disabling a ham radio, head appearing to touch a location called Cannibal or Canibal Plateau.

“Kubrick did this to indicate Jack is actually a wannabe cannibal in the film, as foreshadowed by him talking about the Donner Party LINK in the scene where he, with his family, approached the evacuating Overlook Hotel to take over as winter caretaker.”

“Mountain air,” says Wheeler to this. “I’m soo sleepy (!).” She mimics Wendy’s yawn in the film again just before Jack’s Donner Party exposition.

And so we return.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0512, Colorado, Long Islands, Nautilus, New Mexico, Rank & File, Wild West

back to Torrance country

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0216, Colorado, New Mexico, Omega^^, Southern

X-girl

It was the first meeting of their TILE discussion group, yet without a name. Mr. Z, with continentally constituted backpack per usual, then his prettier brother-cousin also named Mr. Z. Let’s call him Zimmy. And then, thirdly but not lastly, as people like to say, a scowling, non-sister cousin called — let’s go with Olive Oylslick, not to be confused with Owley Oilstick over in Constitution who works a bread stand. No relation atall between them except a common 5th grade kindergarten teacher named Ed. Or was it Ralph. Anyway, to the meeting…

The lights had to be dimmed because TILE was not an officially recognized religion or philosophy or even game in this particular part of The City. One of the reasons the discussion group was formed was to help change all that, bring TILE out in the open.

“Minute taker anyone?” Mr. Z offered to start the proceedings. Owley, I mean, Olive raised her hand. She knew she had the only handwriting anyone could decipher amongst their group. Her favorite push pencil magically appeared in it. She had that power; another advantage. A writing pad popped into existence in the other one. She glared in the direction of the Z’s, waiting for them to open their big fat mouths again and produce things to write about. She was patient, but not of a mental kind. Not any more. She manifested two pills in her mouth and swallowed, one red and one blue. That way her size stayed the same.

With this, Phyllis also manifested on the far end of the room beside the purple stripes of the TILE flag they had collaged together just last night: the last member, the one Olive forgot she even invited to the group. Met her at a chilly Denver airport on a snowy April day in July. Chile Colorado. And she had Ralph or Ed for a 5th grade kindergarten teacher too. Anyhoot, she’s here — and I suppose this is the real Owley. So Phyllis, not Owley, complete with bread and a little milk to wash it down with to show she cares.

“Some of these colors will have to be removed,” she declares while looking sideways, making Olive begin to scribble.

—–

40 minutes later, she had the minutes to the meeting. Trouble is, her cousins, the Z’s, hadn’t even said a thing while watching her slash away at the notepad with the push pencil, clicking it every couple of minutes to produce new graphite as the old wore away. She just dictated what Phyllis was telling her. No one else saw or heard Phyllis. No one else knew she existed. It was all in the pills. But they *had* their manifesto. Olive looked up, realized what was going on. She’d been in a trance for quite a while. She looked at her cousins, Zimmy and the other one who only goes by Mister. “You can go home now,” she gruffly declares. “I’ll email you the typed results tonight.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0410, Black Ice, Colorado, NWES Island^

clubbing

They were on another circular island quite larger in size, although not far away. The associated club was called D’Vine, resonating with both Devine and Vineland in Colorado, especially since the name is a play on Eden’s fruit vine with the cursed apple and all. I knew because the neighboring sim was Danshire (with the much smaller, circular island we’ll get to soon) that synchronicity was strong here. This is the spot — a direct extension of Danshire — to continue our story…

I called in Wheeler to reprise her role of Heidi Hunt Ives from Gaeta V in novel 7. I knew she’d be up for it. Also remember that Tom Casey beside her is a method actor, going deep into the role of Casey One Hole he’ll always be identified with.

“Are all my fingers here?” she started, worried about the doubled manifestation. Two alts in one location sometimes spells trouble. But then she counted to 10 and moved on, an old practice. She looked over at Tom Casey, noted the coal black eyes staring into her. Good! It’s a role of a lifetime, she feels. To work with the great director Eraserhead Man on a new project, to go into the Red Room again and face a faceless man who has information he *wants*, not needs, and then, when not getting it once more, finishes the deed he should have accomplished long ago on a continent now far far away. Or at least an ocean away. Well, only a strait away to be honest. Gaeta V I’m talking about here, the faceless continent that we probably won’t be returning too much for more action and adventure in these here Collagesity photo-novels. Neighboring Corsica continent to the west seems to be a different story. Much different as it’s turning out. The D’Vine island mirroring the earlier Danshire island just next door is witness to this. Synchronicity! How I need that energy. Back to the actors…

“Tom — Casey, I mean. Can I call you Casey?”

Tom/Casey considered what Casey would say. How deep was he? Not quite enough to answer correctly. But that was good! In a way. “Yes,” he said.

Heidi Hunt Ives noticed the slip and called it out. “But I think you *wouldn’t*, Casey *One Hole*. Do you still remember how you got that name?”

“Of course,” he replied, but didn’t go into specifics. Casey One Hole would not have gone into specifics. He was going deeper again.

“Nice.” HHI became pleased again. “So tell me about the Yankton prison, then, formerly a college as I understand or remember it now. Why do you need schematics?” This was different. Casey One Hole enjoys talking about the prison. It is what the character is centered around. It’s like this island to his story.

He managed to glance over at the center (table), wishing he was there instead of here.

And then there he was. Heidi Hunt Ives, of course, joined him. Let’s listen in.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0018, 0106, Benangatron^, Colorado, Corsica

cloudy with a chance of pain

“So here we are. But it’s Hidden Village, with the two l’s like the others. And also: Hilltop Road.

“Interesting. Let’s see how far down this road we can go.”

—–

“Proper. The green journey ends here, where (inferior) red takes over (once more). See the mushroom cloud? Literally. This is what happens at the end of a world.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0011, 0405, Colorado, The Straight^