Black children, a brother and sister perhaps, emerge from a Halloween Tree beside 4th of Juli flags to play in the sun alongside a backyard fence…
… while Robert’s son, a white kid with slack-jawed mouth, sits on the front porch alone, bemoaning a lack of friends.
Past the Princess, Ray takes over Monroe as far as the eye can see, whitewashing a red car past.
A hidden letter in a kind of burning bush reveals another clue. A white S. The Son? The *Sun*?
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0404, Google Street View, Iowa
“I’m going to relieve you of your duties here, Valerie. We actually bought the purple car in a different place. Not Bluefield.”
“Mount Airy — yes, I’ve heard.”
Close! thinks Jeffrey Phillips as Baker Bloch, surprised rumor has traveled so far. But Iowa instead of North Carolina. And it’s Air. Ayr. But he let the mistake stand and didn’t correct.
“Last day will be the end of next month. You’ll begin collecting your retirement pension come March 1. We thank you for your service to the state!” North Carolina again, but we’ll stick with Iowa.
“Schweeeet,” she exclaimed, and crouched down on the floor, a familiar and comforting gesture. She couldn’t help it — her eyes were trained too well. She kept looking for that car to appear. Maybe it will, she thought. The owner of this here blog isn’t correct on all things. Maybe the purple car will come out *here*. It’s a blue rose case, after all. And this is Baker Bloch as Jeffrey Phillips. Backwards but obvious.
The owner of the land has it up for sale at a reasonable price. This portal in the very epicenter of Maebaleia could vanish any day now, any moment. I’m going to say goodbye to it now. Mad Valerie can be reassigned for that final month if needed.
Farewell 2701 Bland Rd. I place a blue rose in your lawn.
—–
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” hidden Fern said down below, switching South with North.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0403, Google Street View, Hills of Bill, Iowa, Maebaleia/Satori, North Carolina, West Virginia
“*You* are Taylor,” she exclaimed excitedly across from him, wearing her standard green shirt with the lantern symbol, one from a Golden Age long forgotten by most. But not by Fern.
“And… you are?” Jeffrey Phillips remains confused. He had crossed the line from This Sim 01 into This Sim 02 and found himself here. On this couch. Speaking to this… woman. Stranger. Her eyes were brilliantly alert. She was always thinking, he realized, always spinning around something in her head. He thought back to the rainbow Ferris wheel.
“Orange,” she proclaimed, then seeing his continued blank look, said, “no not the color, the number. You are looking for VI. Ruby,” she furthered. She saw recognition in the eyes. “A… purple car, not blue not red, merges with orange to exit in you: Taylor.”
What was she *on* about? he thought. He briefly contemplated that he had died, had drove his red 57 Chevy into that levy between sims and all this, all that followed, was his dream in the afterlife. Taylor? Was that his new post-death name? And this person: some kind of angel? Or maybe: devil. Half and half. He slapped himself in the face. Didn’t work. He was still dreaming in this reality, wherever he was.
“What do you mean I’m Taylor?” A series of images formed on the couch across from him in place of Fern. He hadn’t yet realized this was his old gal pal Charlene the Punk, come back from the future after her dissertation on Bigfoot had been completed, turned into a book which was turned into a movie which was turned into a franchise, toys, cookbooks, the lot. There was even a brand of kitchen sink named after it. Bigfoot went from backwoods legend to front and center superhero. All the children knew who Gene Fade was and that his birthplace was at Jupiter Rock and that he spent his formative years in Mocksity and that he lived to be over 400 years of age. Children wanted to *be* Bigfoot now. Children wanted to live relatively forever too, where a childhood would last one of our present lifetimes. Fern knew a lot, had seen a lot. Fern had been augmented, just because she could afford it due to the franchise and all. And she had created 2 others just as tag along friends, one a ditzy blonde and the other, the other…
She changed back. “You were in that wagon,” Fern started again, like a well oiled machine, a purring car, a cat pouncing on a bat. Lee Meriwether had nothing on her.
Ruby, he remembered. The witch had said the same thing: that he was Taylor. The spirit she had summoned faded back into the netherworld it had come from. No: there! Outside the wagon now, floating across the landscape, heading toward a bridge of interesting design.
Another sim crossing. There! That’s where he had died. But not Taylor; the other. 2nd in command.
Man About Time woke up. Strangest dream, he though, and picked up his pen and pad beside his bed to jot it down before he forgot most of the details.
A car needing a trim.
Next up: the doctor of a home, I mean, the home of a doctor.
Across the road: a Beaut Salon run by Cthy and Selly, but everyone in town knew this was A lie, just like the doctor.
But further in the past, a different story? Caty and Shely if so. And it’s Beauty now.
Just look at that hair!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0216, Google Street View, Iowa
These SILHOUETTES, foreground leaves in retrospect, are *directly* west of dancing Hucka Doobie and Axis in 00310117. They also seem to be “dancing” on a corner of Monroe. Compare.
Despite the leafy origins, I’ve decided it is not coincidence and instead a channeling event, call me crazy (“You’re crazy!”).
Conclusion: we never left the red car. Let’s see what the two are up to currently.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0205, Bay City/Nova Albion, Google Street View, Iowa, Sansara
“Shall we?”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0117, Bay City/Nova Albion, Google Street View, Iowa, Sansara
We are almost certain upon passing that this orange clad guy is welcoming us, the viewer, to Iowa. And the 2 little, alert dogs to his right (our left), one black and one brown? Welcomers as well?
But in the next photo we become confused, as the waver is reflected in the window of a passing red car. Is the driver of the car instead being acknowledged, his or her return wave masked by the reflection of the person waving back? There could be stories layered within stories here. The 2 little dogs remain, alert as ever. It’s as though they aren’t even real.
Happy Ruby?:)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0113, Google Street View, Iowa
“Good to see you again, Ruby.”
“Good to see you, Baker B.”
“I — didn’t expect to see you here. But, then again, I don’t expect to see anyone anywhere anytime.”
“Surprises, I know. All around.”
“Yes.”
“What do you wish to know tonight? To close.”
“Thank you. How about Nautilus to start. It seems super important still.”
YES… MAYBE… NO.
“Interesting, and how about Iowa?”
YES, YES, YES.
“How about that, Ruby. Iowa.”
“Yes.”
“And the transition from Nautilus to Iowa?”
YES.
“How will this take place?”
The planchette moves to the center of the board. Stops. Circles a bit. Stops. Circles a little. Stops.
“Center, then?”
Circles a bit. Stops.
“Is this Fife?”
“I’m picking up something about automatic writing,” interjects Ruby at this point. “Someone is drawing something.”
“Okay. I maybe see where this is going.”
“A *spirit*, yes. Summoned by a *witch*.”
“That’s you!” Baker Bloch exclaimed, then saw it manifest beside them.
“Inter-resting,” spoke Ruby to end.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0111, 0112, Iowa, Lands End, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Wild West
“I’m just saying you haven’t been the same, since… since…”
“Cincinnati. Just say it.”
“Bench.”
“I know,” he interrupted again, knowing the story all too well.
“It was a lot of lumber!”
“He deserved it.” Silence for a bit, then: “I guess we’re going to talk about Rose next. The *ul-timate* Red.”
She shook her head. “No. No, I’m just saying…”
“It was the frigg’n Metz!” he exclaimed, finally raising his voice on the subject, as he almost always does. “How would I know, a MIRACLE would occur?”
“It,” she tried to calm him down, “was… a long time ago.”
“Not in my nogg’n.” He knocked on his head. It made a hollow sound. Lumber again. Bench would get his revenge. “The whole *team*, was jinxed. Just look at their names. Rose, pheh. Bench, *huff*. Perez… well that one was kind of normal. But *Morgan*.”
“Now dearest, why don’t we wrap up some more presents,” she distracted again. “Then afterwards, afterwards…” She dangled her leg seductively. No need to think about 69 any longer. *That* 69. It was often the only way to get him to shut up about it once he started. Now the other leg joined the first: two danglers. Would he take the bait?
—–
“Tom… SEEVER!” he said to end. Always the same.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0514, Iowa, Paper Soap+, Soap
“You must love me exactly as I love you!”
And so we’ve returned to Black Lake in a very unexpected way through Misty and her partially submerged beau, soon to be husband (??); circled back around. We have similar choices that we did before here, then. Return to Paper Soap from Paperweight using the resonant keyword Paper? A painter paints, a complainer complains. I’m no painter and I’m no complainer. I can go with the flow, even if it doesn’t involve oiling it up and applying to canvas. Joey Avatar knows how comfortable canvas feels now (!). I don’t need to break a couple of nails to understand, but I do need to hammer a couple. In our fence. I’m looking out our Real Life window now. So many people outside, though. If only they would go away for at least that one special day of the year. Hmm.
And I still have a foothold in Paper-Soap, with transfigured Moes’ pink welcome mat seen here back in the sewer tunnels behind sitting old Keith B. I always seem to have to brighten up the place considerably with “Phototools – Lo Gun Light” sky to snap a proper enough picture. But the dark, conjoined sims seems very important still — moving down the road. Photo-novel 31 should start just after Christmas or around the New Year. Omicron’s moving in from the north west east south too. Soon we’ll be surrounded on all sides, blocked in. I need to keep my options open. I’ve had a good run at my job. I’m saying goodbye to the school as a whole, wrapping things up. I know where my mentors are, the painterly ones, the ones that draw as well, were able to bridge the gap between the two disciplines, like Paul Clay. I was relaying to a student I was working with the other day about not liking clay, as in pottery. Foundation classes were cool, but when I moved on to the specialty courses, like pottery, like *weaving* — not a weaver — I lost interest. I dropped out. I returned 6 years later under the good graces of the college, completed my art degree. But, as stated, I’m not a painter, even thought that was my declared emphasis. Never was. I’m not a Warren. I’m not a Dennis.
But what do I have instead? A canvas true, if a map can be considered as such. It’s the world as a whole but it’s very focused in on our US of A. And within that US of A: Iowa. Ringgold County, even — just one county. And at the center of that county: a hypercube; there can be no doubt. You look inside the translucent layers, like paper, and see the bottom writing on the walls. Everywhere.
We continue…
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0416, Crisp Sea, Iowa, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Paper Soap+, Soap, Wild West
Sunklands 