Category Archives: Mississippi

August 21, 2025 · 8:00 pm

00470608

“Atomic energy,” Newt theorizes about the main way Gaston’s Newton revamped his now deceased older brother Stewart’s sim skipping ship. “Put it at the end of Barry De Boy’s ‘Does This Look Square to You?’ series. Claimed to be named for Isaac Newton but Jasper County’s right below and so instead it should be John.”

“John Newton, twin sergeant to William Jasper during the Battle of Ft. Moutrie in the Civil War,” Newt’s ever-partner Wheeler says more to the reader than anyone, since Newt knows all that. “And Newton County MS being the only county in the state that’s totally square. One Mississippi, two Mississippi — woops. Forgot the zero (!)”

“You finished?” Newt asks from the sacred ottoman under the sacred 4 colors add 4 more. Staring at giant versions of bread and milk on a big tin of perhaps choco chip cookies. Wheeler from the now not as sacred couch was staring at it too.

“Yeah. You go now.”

“I go now,” accepted Newt. “Wellll… we have a problem, a conundrum. We have Marion, Hucka, Philip, Nada, Lexi and probably Greg coming to Nawt Vaya here through that sim skipping ship.”

“Yeah? What’s the problem? They’re *here*. All of them. Except Marion and Hucka it seems.”

“But–”

“No butts. Continue.”

(to be continued)

“OH, I remember what we were going to talk about. This *couch*. And the bread and milk. And the whole location for Crooked.”

“Yeah,” says Newt. “Is this room, this building, actually here in Nawt Vaya, or is it over in Gaston? Could be both of course. But, what I’m asking is…”

“… which one’s more real?”

(to be continued)

“More real there.” Newt pauses. “Did I just skip over the end of the post?

—–

The couch is more comfortable and has more animations.

The bread and milk are normal sized.

The room has more character.

More real there, yeah. We continue….

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June 1, 2025 · 7:57 am

00470108

Roberts takes the magical Chihuahua from my arms, removes the hover text style numbers from its head and feeds them into the computer through an input mechanism I can’t quite understand or explain. “Good good,” says the private investigator who also doubles as my lawyer while watching the monitor. “The Red Row is forming again… see?”

I see this in front of me: one red square appears to the upper left, then another directly to the right of it then another to the right of it then another to the right of it until the sequence numbers 13. But the 13th, she explains, is the same as the 1 again.

“What next?” she asks. I tell her I don’t know. “Zero,” she persists. “The interval is zero now,” she prompts. “What’s next?”

“Um… one?” I guess without much conviction.

“Yes!” And with the press of a key, a second row forms in a similar manner directly below the first. All the colors are different now except for the 1st square and the last square again. Beginning at the left we have red once more, then red-orange, orange, yellow-orange, yellow, yellow-green, green, blue-green, blue, blue-violet, violet, red-violet and then red to end. These were her words for the gradiated colors as she explains what happened.

Then she asks again: “What next?”

“Oh geez, I don’t know. I suppose: two?”

“Right-o!” Same kind of row forms immediately below the first two when another key is pressed. Colors now: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, and then — repeating the pattern beginning with the 7th square — red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, to end with red again.

“What next?” she then asks. I think I was getting the hang of this.

Eventual what was produced was this, which promptly went into Barry de Boy’s “Does This Look Square to You?” series at the end. Roberts called it “The Atom.” “This is where everything starts,” she said about it. “Can you see?”

“Here, back up a bit,” she suggests. “Squint your eyes,” she said after I still had trouble getting it.

I saw.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0108, Cable Isle, Jeogeot, Mississippi, Towerboro

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May 17, 2023 · 5:53 am

mistletoe doorway (heater presents again (6578 (Xmas mugs)))

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lynching_of_Bernice_Raspberry

Bernice Raspberry, also called Ed Lively, was a 23-year old African-American man who was murdered in Leakesville, Mississippi, on May 25, 1927.[1] Raspberry was arrested for an infraction in Leakesville, but then the sheriff was told he was wanted in nearby Bothwell for “alleged improper conduct with a white woman”. Raspberry was taken to Bothwell but then taken back to Leakesville, for safe keeping. A group of some 100 masked man took him from the jail, strung him to a tree, and shot him many times.[2]

https://bakerbloch.wordpress.com/2021/12/29/00300701/

“You!!??” they cried even louder, seeing before them now the white woman associated with raspberries who loves black. “What *is* this??!!” they demanded.

—-

Returning to the scene of the crime:

“Blue and yellow are overrated, Arthur. Red and green have redeeming qualities too, despite not being quite as perfect together.”

“Like us!” Arthur Kill emitted with this, and leaned over to take a drink.

“Which one is darker, which one is lighter?” said Shelley, also partaking of her own drink. “6 and 7. Very close indeed.”

“Soo… this is about TILE?”

“No, silly. It’s about a *kiss*.”

(to be continued)

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April 7, 2023 · 8:58 pm

00370515

Blue Mountain from the slopes of neighboring Pink Peak, the actual namesake for the town it towers above. Not as much from the western direction we see here but more from the north. And to its north lies not a *barren* landscape bereft of humans but comparatively so. I might be heading there next; who knows where I’ll end up. Lower Pink Peak might be closing up for the spring, what with the early encroachment of poison ivy and, quickly following behind it, other bothersome woodsy aspects like snakes and bugs thanks to a mild winter here in the NC mountains. And despite a fairly cold March much to my disappointment. I spotted some poison ivy coming out on the town’s greenway 2 days ago, about the soonest I remember it sprouting. Use to be, I swear, the *end* of April I’d start seeing it instead of more toward the beginning. But maybe its just a weird spring, and the plants are confused because of all the odd weather, hot then cold, hot then cold. But overall pretty mild still, like I said. I can’t help but think of the advancement of global warming…

That night I found a figurine of one of Batman’s archvillains Poison Ivy staring menacingly in the same direction as similarly green Kick-Ass in a Nightsity comic book store display case. The night before this we observed Edward ordering a kick-ass grasshopper, his regular, from bartender Lexi at the seedy Nightsity establishment he runs for Ben Left Horn, formerly Jer Left Horn in these here photo-novels, 37 in a series so far.

Turning to leaves, there are precisely 3 population places named Leaf in the US, the same amount as found on a poison ivy plant. One of these is in Greene County, Mississippi, and whose only notable person, according to wikipedia, is named Lloyd *Green*, a pretty famous steel guitarist featured on Ken Burns’ “Country Music”. Also according to wikipedia as I found out this morning, villain Poison Ivy uses the power of an interplanetary force known as Green for the purposes of her ecoterrorism.

Why does Edward order a drink named kick-ass from a bar in the same town as a comic book store featuring the wannabe superhero? What is Shelley being tempted into by wearing a “Crazy Blue” outfit, another type of uniform if not a wet suit? Does formerly blue clad Duke Blue Devil Grant Hill still drink Sprite? Does it still quench his thirst? And what of his less famous and less tall Duke basketball running mate Thomas Hill, who won a national championship with him in ’91 and ’92? Hills again — peaks, higher and lower. The only way to figure out more is to go inside again.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0515, Blue Mountain, Mississippi, Nautilus, Nightsity, Red Hill, Upper Austra^

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February 18, 2023 · 4:31 pm

Heads and Foote

“Baker Bloch said there was some kind of bookstore here with the 2 page letter. No bookstore. No letter. Just some kind of clothing boutique without any clothes, right 88’s? Oh,” she continues speaking, just to herself she realizes as she looks around. “Not in this scene.”

Oh well,  she thinks silently now.  Might as well primp while I’m here. Shocking pink should do.


Stick in hand she tries to pucker up for the mirror but ends up just emitting a yawn. High up here, she realizes. Mountain air.

A little later:

“Laundry?” A beep sounds. Arthur Kill realizes his clothes are done. Now maybe he can find out who he actually is.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0106, Hana Lei^^, Mississippi, New Mexico, Tennessee

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June 15, 2022 · 9:56 am

00330315

He corrected me as soon as it came out of my mouth, perhaps before. “Bono, I’m Bono here,” he said. “And you’re Newt — we can’t change that.”

“But Peggy –”

“Peggy Smeggy.” He took a breath. “You don’t understand the implications yet. Darkside is *here*.” He looked me square in the eyes now, black inside black. He wasn’t evil but he came from a place of called Intensity. In Mississippi I believe. Very focused in his tasks, he was.

“So… you brought them here.”

“Yup,” with the “p” emphasized with a pop. I reviewed what I knew. I thought he was Nemo but he said he was Bono. Bono Jores, fresh from the bowels of Mississippi. Or was it Arkansas? Anyway, he presented me with the book; said it was the way out. He did this now.

“This is the way,” he said, scooting it toward me. “The Way.” He scooted it closer. “Open in the middle and start reading.”

“I–,” I started to protest. Closer. He even opened it for me, eyes still boring. But he was no Sherwood Anderson. Or was he?

—–

3 hours later — sunset — I finished the book that was the same as 1/2 a book. Everyone had left in the meantime, Bono to my right and Peggy Gertrude to my left. Peggy was still here with her friend over at another table in the establishment. And that’s where I headed next — to give her the good news. All was not lost.

The convincing took a while. Her hometown was still gone; I led with that. But there’s *another* hometown coming up where gravity’s not as much up in the air. “Aerial,” I said, and demonstrated with my hand.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0033, 0315, Lower Austra^, Mississippi, Nautilus, Squared Root City

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April 28, 2022 · 10:05 pm

00320602

He waits between hot and cold, choosing hot himself and currently enjoying a mustard and ketchup laden dog of such temperature before customers show up for the midday “rush” — not much of a rush actually but he’s not much of a worker these days, being technically retired and a bona fide Whitehead in Da Woods.

The Mustard Ketchup Kid plays soccer in a nearby field with his sister Ventura, who hails from California. She channels her energy in order to attempt to get the ball past Bert (actual name), but all this is just more code.

Squared Root City is expanding across Highway 13-14 into the sim to the north. Still exciting times for the burg. We hold out hope that it can replace Collagesity-Fordham as proper capital of Lower Austra. Because the latter is probably going away and is, anyway, too small for the role, being only a little over 1/8th of a sim in size. Squared Root Cy is, in contrast, about a sim and a 1/2 in area now.

That’s why the Axis-Windmill character is back. He waits in the Zero Club at the beginning of it all — just before the beginning, some say — for another important character that has chosen to resurface in these here blog-novels to match the new energy. Vim, some call her; others: Vigor (that’s actually her sister, maybe a twin). She counts her Mississippi’s in anticipation of the manifestation. One Mississippi, Two… wait, she forgot something. Newt! At the Zero!

“Hi baby doll.”

He turns. “Eyela?? Wasn’t expecting *you*.”

“No one is,” she speaks truthfully and, after adjusting the strap of her new clockwork eyepatch to better match her face, takes a seat beside him at the bar. Both now turn away from the camera and speak privately. We try to listen in but only catch a couple of words like Geronimo, Slick, Olive, and Oklahoma. We gather an oil spill in Indian territory of the panhandle state may be involved but could be mistaken. Let’s back up and move in closer. We’re the bartender. Let’s call him Jim. Tom, actually, only 3 feet away. Close enough to properly record. We ask if they need a drink to be more legitimate seeming. They refuse. We move away but not too much — should be OK. And… PRESS.

“I’m glad we could mustard enough energy to catch up,” she began, which was code for “very important information to follow.”

“Spill,” he requested, and she did. We were right. Kind of.

(to be continued)

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August 16, 2021 · 10:08 am

continuation

He suffered a bad, maybe fatal wound to the back in the action, but Not Jon Deere, as we’ll keep calling him, was dead; killed by the same butcher knife that might do him in. The larger forest entity knew he didn’t have much time before rejuvenation, drew his trusted stabber, pounced on the little yellow fellow, tried to make him his subordinate. But the lemony dude was slippery, harder to catch and pin down than NJD remembered. Pear had taught him some evasion tricks before he left the woods for greener pastures. And Tomato showed him how to fake wounds to seem more injured than he really was: down in the red barn he was still, just over the ridge. Lemon (as they called him — true name: George Meanie) was ready for a confrontation, as ready as he’ll ever be, they declared. Then girlfriend Grape cried and cried, saying he *wasn’t* ready and that she loved him still despite their very different personalities, as far across the spectrum as one could possibly get, she gathered. The gals she surrounded herself with — her bunch — warned her of the differences. Better to stick with a red, like Tomato down there over the ridge in the barn. Or even greener Pear. Choose wisely, they warned. But Grape would have none of it; followed her heart to his glaringly yellow side, proposed to him in a role switcheroo right then and there. “Train him up!” she commanded to the others. “We have a common enemy to our marriage and our community as a whole. Some say he is Jon Deere, the 420 God. That bony, skull topped *deity* is *not* Jon Deere, thank you very much. We’re on the wrong side of the continent.”

And so it went, and so it keeps going. Knife still in back — his little stubby yellow arms not long enough to retract it — Lemon (George) kept going, heading toward the former lair of NJD to see what disgusting secrets lie within. NDJ’s skeleton corpse lay slumped against the rocks below. He starts counting Mississippis to prolong his life, postpone death as long as possible. 3 Mississippi, 4… but energy was ebbing out, vim receding, vigor draining. If only, if only there was something (huff) in the lair (puff) to save him (*collapse*).

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0028, 0114, Mississippi, Nautilus, Upper Austra^

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November 1, 2020 · 12:48 pm

filling

“Shop’s closed,” Judd offered from the stairs, staring at the back of his sister Eldwina, who was dressing more and more like a little hooker each passing day, he thought. Maybe she would join the City Squad soon.

The coffee shop just down the walk was most assuredly not closed — perhaps the kids were talking about another place (they were). Charlene Brown the pseudo-punk was washing her hands when I came in, looking for stories.

“Be with you in a minute,” she calls as she counts. 16 Mississippi, 17 Mississippi… almost done. 19….. done. She turns.

“Oh it’s you. Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“Yeah. Almost forgot how to get here. And then those kids…”

“Aw, jeez. Don’t get me started (about those kids).”

“Yeah, the one on the stairs…”

“He’s *always* sitting on those stairs.”

“Yeah, he said you were closed up.”

“Nope. As you can see. Maybe he was talking about the old Same Coffee Shop. It’s a basic duplicate of this one. Except: closed. That must be it.” She studies him more. Maybe a little grayer around the temples. Maybe a new wrinkle here and there. But not much change. For all the passing years.

“I’m here again.”

“Oh?” A twinkle in her eye. “She’d just dumped her 5th boyfriend in 5 months. There was the age different but… he was still attractive. She liked the gray. Distinguished, as they say. “In Black Ice?”

“No, but just up the road.”

“Apple’s Orchard?” she guessed again. “Neptune?” She paused. “Marwood, even?”

“Marwood, that’s it,” I decided. “Up at the new temple. I stay in an apartment in the air.”

“I don’t get up there that much — the northern part of the city.”

“Now now,” I reprimanded. “You’re not suppose to say that word any longer.”

“City?” she provided and then smiled. “It’ll change. We just have to get rid of the *other* cities clinging onto the main one. Like…”

“Meat City,” I proffered. “Zen City — well, that’s *already* gone, poof.” I threw up my hands in a poor imitation of a miniature atomic blast but she smiled all the same. Always laughing at my mainly lame jokes. Good ol’ Charlene. I decided to ask about Charlie. I wish I hadn’t.

—–

“It was Halloween night. Just day before yesterday, then. Out in the pumpkin patch. He didn’t listen to his pseudo-girlfriend’s brother about the demon that always showed up there that night. Neither of them made it. Just a blood patch now.” She starts to cry again, tears dripping into her cup and on the tablecloth. I didn’t know what to add. I’d said I was sorry several times now. I desired to leave, frankly — this wasn’t the story I was looking for. Oh look, though, she’s holding my hand now. She’s looking deep into my eyes with that twinkle again. Maybe this will work to my advantage. The last time we saw each other I was obsessed with another. But I’m older now; she’s older, although you’d never know it. It’s like time stood still for her. And maybe it had. Did she make a pact with someone, ho?

And what about that ill placed vending machine over there we got our hot beverages from? That’s new. Just then, Jeffrey Phillips’ cup vanishes into nothingness but Charlene’s remains. She knew how to replenish it automatically and bridge the gaps.

—–

In the closed duplicate coffee shop, Apples 02’s chair turned sideways and she knew lover Appleyon’s plan had worked. Now to get back to Somerset and try it on Apples 01. The bastard.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0612, Apple's Orchard, Black Ice, Marwood, Meat City, Mississippi, Neptune, NWES Island^, Somerset

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July 11, 2017 · 5:15 am

Studies

Baker Bloch has determined that The Millers of Castle Knight (so named because they’re always milling about the place) are actually Knights as well, one black and the other white. Unlike chess pieces, you can’t tell them apart by appearances, only by what color square they’ve landed on at any given time through predetermined rules. Both hail from Soso, but not Collagesity’s SoSo Mall (just unsealed and reopened!), although they might claim to be so. This one instead. Their common ancestor: Newton Knight, leader of the Free State of Jones who was buried in Jasper County Mississippi with its Ted (and Turnerville) and Baxter also. Right hand man when carving out his Unionist knightdom in the middle of the Deep South was also named Jasper (Collins). Newt’s story seems to have deep significance. Hole to another dimension.

Baker is also still studying the Nancy archetype, and has determined that the 3 US Robertson Counties play a role. Ridgetop, above Bakers in Robertson County Tennessee, was formerly called Nancy (post office name). On other side of this county — northwest corner — is an Adams, famous for a particular, bad witch. In the north*east* corner of Robertson County Kentucky we have an Abigail. East and West: 2 bad witches, he’s decided, just like with Baum’s Oz. Matched up and read together, Abigail Adams is the wife of the second US president and the mother of the 6th president. Mary Ball needs to study this early champion of women’s rights. Future son and original president George doesn’t learn a New York lesson and gets outflanked at the Battle of Brandywine. Political career scuttled. Own grandpa Osborne Well perched on a high hill, master of all British Bermingham. American Muff sealed off and compartmentalized.

And then the 3rd and last Robertston County in Texas: Seale, Headsville, Bald Prairie.

We are on the home stretch…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0004, 0613, Heterocera, Mississippi, Rubi^, Tennessee

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