Category Archives: Jeogeot

holy 02

By the time The Bill had returned to Collagesity, Pitch Darkly was already well into his Russian phase. He had recreated Maebaeleia’s Russian Matrix in the town skybox, a Second Lyfe landmass he insisted on calling the *Russian* continent and not the Japanese Continent, although the latter was its most common nickname (Just to be clear here, many consider the continent’s primary name to be Satori and not Maebaleia, but let’s don’t go into that right now). “Look at the Jeogeot-Maebaleia Rabbit Hole,” he would argue with Buster Damm and others who expressed confusion about his terming. “The Maebaleia end is in Ubab… Ubablab…” “Ulyanovskuly Oblast,” Buster might correct Pitch on any given night. “Yes, the oblast or politcal region where Lenin was born, true,” he might say. “That’s the only way it worked,” Pitch then could continue. “Russian… or actually *Polish* in that movie with the 47 Room…” “‘INLAND EMPIRE,'” Buster Damm might accurately insert here. “Yes,” Pitch could reply, “the Jeogeot-Maebaleia Rabbit Hole is the same as the hole or portal in that movie, caused by pressing a lighted cigarette through a folded piece of cloth. That way you become Rebus Caneebus and fall in. All the way to Russia. Or Poland.” “‘Back in the USSR,'” Buster might tack on in an attempt to wrap the topic up and move on to other things.

The Ulyanovskuly Oblast side of the Rabbit Hole had long been smoothed over, but once it looked like this:

The other side of the hole, in the sim of Blackmount in what I call the Sunklands district of the Jeogeot continent, remains intact quite amazingly, thanks to the faithful stewardship of long time owner Alyx Sand, with whom I exchanged a couple of messages over the subject some years back now. As I recall, she inherited the hole, and made the obvious connection that it was a rabbit variety leading to parts unknown. Pitch has since followed up on my initial contact, asking if Alyx ever fell through the hole when it was actually and truly operable. Before the time of direct teleportation between two distant points in Our Second Lyfe, in other words. She indicated to him that it no longer served that function when she purchased the land in 2007.

Pitch has made several pilgrimages to the Blackmount hole in the last several months, falling in on purpose each visit just to see what would happen. No “bottomless pit” this time leading to another “dimension.” Only immersion in a small pool of Linden water at the terminus of an approx. 100 meter fall. Try it for yourself!


“Hmmm, a WWII American fighting plane on the extreme corner of the Sands property,” Pitch thinks. “An F4U-1D Corsair, vers. 2.5,” Buster Damm might clarify here.

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Filed under *Second Life, Jeogeot, Maebaleia/Crabwoo, Rubi, Sunklands

the evolution of the couch

“So we’re at the couch now, Mr. Babyface. Do you know who the ring is yet? 450,000 lindens worth of the ultimate 500,000 remain to be paid out. Do you want to be a wealthy man or a poor man, Mr. Face?

What’s this precocious child’s end game? he wondered while puffing rapidly on his pipe. Red Dragon, mmm. So soothing. But, Collagesity to Middletown — it really happened! She really did it. “Wealthy, I suppose,” he then answers.

“Then find Leona and her village full of mechanoid people at the hilltop lakes with the lone star shaped swimming pool and ask for Flo. And also: go *with* the flow. Synchronicity.”

“All right.” He was trying to keep up with her pace, or at least pretend to.

“(And) take Greg Ogden with you. That’s her husband after all. Good cover for you as well.”

“Didn’t know that fact. But: will do. I’ll take Red Boy.”

In fact, Mr. Babyface and Greg Ogden had become quite close during their stay in the Kidd Tower. A common heating system can sometimes bring people together.

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Filed under *Second Life, Jeogeot, Middletown SL

transference

Mr. Babyface had fallen asleep again studying the Big E on the top floor of his Collagesity apartment. Awoken by a large thud, he quickly turned over while remaining in his sprawled position and peered into the higher stories of the Kidd Tower — the same view he was looking at when he dozed off.

Everything as before, pheh, he thinks. Depictions of the Jeogeot Gulf sims representing the letters A-L on the east side and O-Z to the west remained intact. The missing M and N at the top: MaN. What it all spelled out, he realized, was another boring day in Collagesity for The Face (himself). But what about the thud?

Then in sitting up and turning around from the table, Mr. Babyface saw something totally unexpected. He jumped out of his chair. A familiar Middletown skyscraper loomed just beyond his window!

“Holy Jesus!” he exclaimed, toking rapidly on his still lit pipe. “The Kidd really did it this time. The tower is truly and fully *there*. But there is here!” And he knew this meant the The Kidd would in all likelihood be sitting in her beige chair on the floor below his apartment, in what use to be Greg Ogden’s spot. But maybe Greg has returned too. He better get down there posthaste.

—–

200 feet above all this, Tronesisia heads to the top-of-the-line Italian refrigerator to retrieve another of those strong German beers (Brewmeister’s Quarterly).

But in glancing outside the window to her right, she saw the tower too! All the old, repressed memories came flooding back with the sight: Pitch and Buster’s killing shack across the tracks; Bendy heading to Muff-Bermingham in the Collagesity rocket Karoz built and her attempts to follow him; Mary’s pregnancy with George. And she’d been wasting all her time wallowing in the idiotic glories of war! Axis and Allies, phmph. There never was a war, she realized. She had been sleepwalking all along.

Fully awake now, she locates the red phone hidden behind the bed that would connect her directly with Baker Bloch. She remembered that piece of the puzzle too. “Call me when the transference happens,” he said while handing it to her over 2 months back. “You won’t remember me again until then. Nor I you. Good luck!”

—–

The phone rings in Baker Bloch’s back pocket. “Excuse me, everyone,” he says, turning slightly red. He never seems to get calls any more and simply forgot to turn it off before The Table meeting. “I’ll just take this over to Perch…”

Tin S. Man smiles broadly as Baker walks past, and Wheeler catches it. “What are you up to giant?” she queries, scrutinizing him. “Besides the 20 foot mark, I mean. Why hasn’t Hucka Doobie shown up yet?”

In thinking how the sentence “Why hasn’t Hucka Doobie shown up yet?” translates to German, Wheeler then realizes who must be on the phone.

“Hallo?”

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Filed under *Second Life, Heterocera, Jeogeot, Middletown SL, Rubi

15 minutes later…

“Did you get the information I wanted, Norris?”

“N-no. Not yet.” He was trying very hard not to perspire, show fear. But Casey drew it out of him. He *fed* off of it. “I guess… you heard about the beaver?”

“The beaver is not of my concern,” Casey said mechanically. His whole tone of voice was drained of emotion. Casey knew that Jeffrie Phillips would soon be reading this blog post and catching up with him. He needed to stay one, preferably several steps ahead in the game. And we’re not talking about Grand Theft Auto here, ridiculous bank heists and shite.

Norris continued to stare forward into the red curtains. He’d been doing this for as long as he could remember. Weeks, maybe months. Years, even. He had *hoped* that Casey would stare straight ahead as well and not at him. But he could repeatedly sense what felt like two laser beams burning into the back of his head. Cheater! Trying to extract the needed information that, yes indeed, he had. Prison schematics.

But Casey already knew this.

The suspiciously tanned man moves forward on his couch and leans toward Norris’ head, his mouth not half a foot from an ear now. “There’s a par three at the back nine of my club,” Casey hisses menacingly, “where the flag pole sometimes goes missing when I make my holes in one.” He withdraws from Norris and gets up to take his leave. “You think about that over the next several days.”

Norris finally couldn’t help himself. “Don’t… *look* at me,” he said weakly.

“You have until Monday to get me that information, Norris. ” Then he was gone, silent as a cat.

—–

Karoz Blogger was next for a visit.

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Filed under *Second Life, Chilbo, Clemscott, Gaeta V, Jeogeot

Return

The war over, Tronesisia pilots her Pink Baron back to Middletown to begin civilian life again. Her wheels touch down precisely on the 2 yellow rubber lines of Main Street just beyond Treasure Bay. Perfect 3 point landing.

But she hadn’t earned the moniker of flying ace for naught. 20 Frenchmen alone shot down! She returned a war hero, with all the accompanying accolades. She was a baroness now, due to marry Lord Bendington on the 25th (Christmas Day).

What about former lover Peter SoSo you may ask? Left behind in the ashes of battle bombs. Unable to extract himself from the high life in Hana Lei. Tronesisia desired more for her own life than just wobbling around stoned all the time. She desired accomplishments… medals. Badges signifying significance.

She strides powerfully into the skyscraper with her penthouse apartment. Surely soon to be renamed Baroness Towers, she thinks. Or some equivalent. “Hello, Ms. Tronesisia,” Bert the doorman says at the entrance. “Welcome back.” After she passes, he rushes into the work room to tell Timmy, Ben, and Wanisa to fetch her luggage out of the plane posthaste. Word spread fast through town. “Ms. Tronesisia is back, Ms. Tronesisia is back!” She was loved and feared by the citizens of Middletown.

“Ahh, good to be home!” she exclaims on her patio while sipping strong German beer and looking out across the sea. Soon she would be surrounded by royalty. She imagines them sitting all around her now, talking of her war glories and helping her take steps to make sure her celebrity status pays dividends in the marketplace of what surely will be a post-war boom.

Finished with her beer, she heads inside to retrieve another from the top-of-the-line Italian refrigerator. She pauses at a certain point, sensing something different… new.

Tronesisia doesn’t see the bottom 1/3rd of the Kidd Tower just below her this particular night. Billie Jean Kidd had been unsuccessful so far in bringing the remaining 2/3rds to Middletown to make it clearly visible from this window of the penthouse apartment. But soon she would. And then Tronesisia’s dreams of life as a post-war baroness would all melt away.

She would remember who she was, at the core.

“At the core,” Billie Jean Kidd echoes down below.

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Filed under *Second Life, Jeogeot, Middletown SL

End?

Rocky goes back to Middletown and sets monstrously green Gregg Oden free from his small prison. He immediately becomes red clad Greg Ogden again, planning out his next oil painting of Treasure Hill (*not* a watercolor). Rocky sees an army base nearby and decides to turn in his resignation. Since entering the war 4 days back, Rocky had risen to the rank of lieutenant, soon to be captain in several more hours. It was time to end the insanity before he climbed to the very top of the ranks and was in charge of the whole kit and caboodle. He didn’t want to be trapped in that!

“Wrong side,” he said while looking at the wall behind the central desk within. “Oh well, it’s all games and pretend anyway.” He then saw the name on the typewriter at the desk. He sat down and studied it to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. The brand name: Raccoon.

Rocky found himself typing. And typing and typing. In a matter of hours, he had unfurled his whole story from Olde Lapara Towne, Collagesity, and Middletown. The stack of paper by his side kept growing higher, yet he went on. Future adventures. Collagesity and beyond. Mushroom house in the Adirondacks. Must keep going higher. Higher. To the top.

Two days later he was finally finished. He had risen to the rank of 5 star general, overseeing the whole Gulf engagement. He sent word to his lesser generals. Put down your arms. The insanity is over. There is no war any more. There never was.

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Filed under *Second Life, ., Jeogeot, Middletown SL

Rocky’s Ships

Rocky found that when he tried to sit on the destroyer in order to plant the bombs and, er, destroy it, he seemed to *become* the ship. No deployment of explosives possible. Eventually the Japanese ship that Rocky has merged with passes another of the same nationality, and Rocky unsits and tries his luck with that one instead.

Same basic situation: he can’t sit on the ship because it keeps moving and he does not. Several times he tries, but keeps falling to the ocean floor behind it. He gives up, and wanders to the top of a nearby underwater hill, laying his long cooled gun beside him.

He looks around; scans in every direction. Nothing, he thinks. There is nothing here. No war, he realizes. No sides to choose from. It was all a dream. I’ve been living a dream ever since my webbed feet touched mainland and I entered that battle camp. Rocky looked at his gun, which he’d named while practicing target shooting in Olde Lapara Towne down in Grasslands last month, the last time he would do so in that location. “Time to go home, Terry,” he addressed it.

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Filed under *Second Life, ., Jeogeot, Middletown SL