Category Archives: Jeogeot

April 4, 2025 · 4:57 am

00460306

There she f-ing is in the flesh ha, thinks Emily New Moon at her counter beside the static filled TV. She likes to have it on with the sound turned at least low just to help drown out the city noise outside. Sometimes it’s bad out there, sometimes not so much. But she likes to keep it on anyway, just in case.

She rehearses her lines as Blue Moon mills around, trying to seem interested in the other tapes. But she only wants the one, she knew. 49 of 50 she has already. And she’s tracked down the 50th and last to this town, this store most likely, since it’s the only video rental one in this population place merely known as The Burg. Here: Downtown, its seedier side. Up there where it’s quieter most of the time: Uptown, where Emily *wished* she worked. But L.A. won the job at the ice cream vendor over her because she’d presented some papers at some national art conference or another, didn’t matter. *She’s* written things too. Just not published or presented stuff. Blue Moon milling about over there trying to seem distracted will know one day too, she thinks while continuing to observe and mentally rehearse. “‘Blue *Balls* Kentucky’, hmm — interesting — let me see,” and she’ll pretend to type the name into her database, pretend to look at results, pretend that the tape isn’t on the list. Blue Moon’s one and only porno, 50 copies extant. She has 49. But dammit if Emily *New* Moon is going to let her have 50. The blue fades to black right here in this town, this store. She’ll reach a dead end and it’ll nag at her the rest of her short lived days, Emily thinks with some satisfaction. Because she knows it’s worth a gold mine. And she, as it turned out, has cornered the market, ha ha ha. He he. Ho.

Here she comes. Steel yourself, Emily! You’ll be as famous as her soon, maybe even bigger than her — no need to be daunted. New Moon rising.

“I-I’d like to inquire about a tape,” she begins rather timidly. Like she doesn’t belong there. And she doesn’t, thinks Emily. Neither of us.

“Name?” she say as matter-of-factly as possible given the moment.

(to be continued)

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April 2, 2025 · 9:53 pm

00460305

“He was just standing there when I looked down from the bird. You know, after the plane.”

“Then what?” Philip was into Frank’s story. For a change.

“Just for a second he was there. Looked like, I don’t know, *Superman*. All jacked up like a superhero, you see.”

“Like Impotent Rage?”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “Like Impotent Rage.”

“*Love* Impotent Rage. That’s where I hid my drugs!”

Took Frank a second to get it, then he remembered the figurine in Philip’s trailer with the hollowed out core and pop top head. *Old* trailer. “Oh yeah. Anyway, thought you’d want to know, since, you know, you saw the plane shadows that couldn’t be there too.”

“I *did*,” said Philip without a doubt. “I did indeed. Grapeshot.”

“Grape*seed*,” said Frank.

“Noooo. Grape*shot*. *Franklin*.” Philip liked to call Frank Lynn by his old name when he failed to properly translate anything to this new format they now live in, GTA V imprisoned characters no more. They were free. Thanks to the power of the Alamo. “Remember the Alamo,” Philip would also say to jolt Frank back to the current (virtual) reality. “Remember it and then forget it because we’re in a different place now,” he might follow up, “one that doesn’t stink like *rotting fish*, PHEH.”

Alamo inland sea of GTA V fully transferred over to Nawt Vaya inland sea of Our Second Lyfe. Like Philip before him, Frank was totally on board with it. After all, they always had the dreams and reminiscings to return if needed. Like now.

“Anyway,” Frank continued in that vein, “he was standing at the start of that jutting out place, you know, the, oh what do you call it? Not peninsula.”

“Pier?” Philip offered, trying to help the story along.

“No dawg, nothing wood or anything. A *jetty* — yeah, that’s it. A narrow piece of land jutting into the water in a straight line.

“Or crooked line,” Philip said, thinking of something called the Spiral Jetty. He can’t recall where.

“Okay, so, you know, the Superman person was gone — only appeared a split second like I said…”

“Yeah?” Philip said, egging him on again.

“But when I was walking down that, er, jetty, in a straight line, I also knew he was *pointing* toward something. Something on the other side of the lake as it turned out.”

“Sea,” corrected Philip once more. “Alamo Sea.”

“Yeah, Alamo Sea, then. So I stood near the end of the point, looked across the lake — sea, sorry. There was a boat parked near the tip, but that wasn’t it. Then I heard it. Little Hell, Philip. Place called Little Hell.”

Philip had heard of the location but had also heard it called Heaven and said so. Out of their dreams and back into the present, both looked across the moonlit Nawt Vaya waters and wondered what *that* meant. Little Hell and Heaven both.

(to be continued)

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April 1, 2025 · 3:01 pm

00460304

“Isn’t this a beautiful view of the harbour, Newt? Just lovely.”

“Well,” opined her opposite eating ice cream partner at the stand. “They could have done a better job with the line there dividing the 2 sides of the texture. Makes it obviously unreal. And the blurring–”

“Blurring only makes it more romantic,” quickly countered Wheeler. “This skyline could be any city in the world you want it to be, any virtual burg for that matter. It could be Sydney to me, Melbourne to you. Our choice. Just pick the most romantic city you know and you’re sitting across from it, eating strawberry or vanilla ice cream, also your choice. You like vanilla, I don’t.”

“We better start talking about Nawt Vaya,” said Newt, tired of meaningless chatter. “Why we came here. To this *rendezvous*,” he couldn’t help tack on again. Next time, he promised himself. Gowns and formal attire.

“Okay.” She finished the last 1 1/2 scoops of strawberry in one huge gulp just to try to speed things up and maybe add a little comedy to the matter, then continued to talk with mouth open and muffled voice. “Ow, fthatt *hurfts*.”

“What do you expect, Wheeler?” he said, watching her now deal with brain freeze. He decides to start while she heals. “Let’s take account of the residents of our fair land there in the center of Nawt Vaya. First off, there’s me and you obviously, then Lexi and Philip over in her house on the south edge of the property, then Fink is around too, then Jack is not far away as well — Jack Dogg, I’m obviously talking about here and not any of the other Jacks we’re attached to now. And then Barry De Boy and Wendy are up in that cottage perched above my own home of Newtonia. Do you like that name, Wheeler? Newtonia? Are you able to properly speak yet?”

“Mmmmm. MmmMMMMMMmm.”

“Obviously not. I’ll continue, then. Then there’s Veyot up on the hill, Pearl just up the coast a bit. Then in Juho we have Greg Ogden who’s also an artist — runs STAB now — and then I believe Nada New Year is there too, and also Carolin. And, let’s see, Peter Melanchton–”

“Gone,” Wheeler managed, ice cream headache finally subsiding.

“Right. And then the girl who’s suppose to take his place as summa cum laude graduate of Nawt Vaya State University and her, er, boyfriend I guess we’ll call him. And then Edward is still around.”

“Backwards positioned waterfall,” Wheeler identified his location. “You’re okay with that? Aren’t you?”

“Ahh, *sure*.” He was 1/2 and 1/2 on the issue but he really didn’t have any choice. Unless he did. He’s trying. Date first, then other things. Has to start with a proper date, which apparently this wasn’t. He tries to focus on the census again and away from the Wheeler+Edward continuing issue. “And then Princess Pinky Gumm.”

“She doesn’t count.”

“Oh…. right.” Newt remembers that Wheeler is playing that role, actually. “And… I can’t think of anyone else. Can you?”

“OH. I saw… I saw *Frank*! I totally forgot to tell you.”

“Frank?”

“Yeah. *Frank*. In Juho. At the barber shop when I was getting my hair cut the other day. I was getting the Butterfly No. 25 while he just sat there getting nothing, no styling no treatment, no anything. *Frank*,” she emphasized.

“Frank *who*?” Newt had to question. There were a couple, including a bunny man who hadn’t figured into the plot of these here photo-novels since the middle of the last. But it turned out to be Frank Lynn of GTAV fame.

“And Sep Felton was there too,” said Wheeler. “You know Sep. Butterflies again. Over on Corsica. She’s a stylist in both places. I didn’t even ask her how that worked, dufus that I am. I was *so* focused on getting it all chopped off, letting my scalp breathe again as Winter turns into Spring. I want the Butterfly, I said excitedly almost when I came in the shop. I didn’t realize the synchronicity.”

“You should always be paying attention to synchronicity. Why we’re here,” summarized Newt.

“I know, I know.”

“So… let’s start exploring and we can talk more.”

“My line!”

Someone in desperate need of a haircut himself, or herself, came walking into the picture. It, we’ll call them to remain gender neutral.

(to be continued)

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April 1, 2025 · 2:42 pm

00460303

He listened in while she continued to play her games. It wasn’t a date, she insisted. Casual dress you’ll notice. But Newt was kind of treating it as such. Arrived 30 minutes late. Payback obviously for him being so late the other night to their TV watching down in the bottom of her new dwelling place. Big!

“I don’t know what happened. It just… slipped out of my hands! The whole cone and its triple dip of strawberry ice cream I’ll remind you.”

“No problem, miss. I’ll dip you 3 more.” Sarah “L.A.” Nunchuck had passed the Wheeler test. She’s on the green list as opposed to the red. Newt knew they’d probably be coming here again for future dates or whatever you call this. Rendezvous, she said. “Let’s rendezvous and talk about developments at Nawt Vaya, where we’re going, where we’re heading. But somewhere away from home base. Who knows who’s listening here.”

“Who would be listening?” Newt questioned Wheeler’s logic.

“You know, the neighbors.”

“Veyot? Pearl?” Newt didn’t think the neighbors would be listening in. They had better things to do. Like running art galleries elsewhere in Our Second Lyfe. Yet Wheeler persisted and Newt finally relented. Besides, she found this burg about a 1/2 mile from the lake inland sea quite fascinating — Burg; that was the actual name. “It has an uptown, midtown, and downtown, Newt,” she said about it over the phone while setting up the, ahem, *rendezvous*. “Uptown is classy, midtown is, well, midtown, and downtown is seedy. Then there’s the park to end, west to east. We’ll explore after we have ice cream.”

And so here they are.

(to be continued)

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March 30, 2025 · 3:20 pm

00460302

Newt found himself even happier than he suspected, overjoyed even. Bimbo had texted their treehouse and said she’d be a couple of days late to arrive in Nawt Vaya, perhaps even a couple of years. Fink would keep using the attic computer for his virtual needs, Newt knew.

And he was right about the giraffe instead being an elephant (!) — my bad, he thinks. I’ll pay closer attention to what he says from now on and not immediately rule out such seemingly nonsensical, *surrealist* statements, ha.

But the primmy geometric tiger behind the spindly legged elephant here and also the similarly prim laden Dali Park beside Starbuccaneers below was now gone. He’d made his point, I suppose.

Which reminds me: time to go get my 2 daily 4 shot lattes, ho.

(to be continued)

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March 28, 2025 · 3:26 pm

00460216

Later while Wendy went to the SL Marketplace to buy a new dress with unruined stripes, Barry perused various algorithmic offerings on his Youtube premium subscription service. Soon a video about a particular painting shown in the 60s classic sitcom “The Andy Griffith Show” popped up and he couldn’t resist. Turns out… well: Dali again. Let’s listen in. Fake dialog here we’re talking about, but still seems to fit. 🙂

“*Child’s coffin*??” Andy exudes.

“That’s right Andy,” says Barney, standing proud before him after pointing it out. “Read it in a magazine over at Floyd’s. I’ll help you with things like this, Andy, keep you up to date on all the modern trends. Yup (he sniffs in satisfaction about knowing something the seemingly all knowing sheriff of this here small NC town on the far edge of modernity doesn’t). Artist by the name of Da Lee found it hidden under layers of paint. Child’s coffin, Andy,” he repeats. “Turns out that couple wasn’t grieving for lost crops in that field but something *bigger*.”

Barry wonders where the laugh track was on this episode then realizes the obvious. He looks down to see a glowing tie: dream again.

Wendy opens the door to the small cottage, startling him awake from his afternoon nap. “What do you think?” she said, twirling around in place to show the purchased dress off.

“I think… we need a TV.”

“And a bed!” Wendy added. She was feeling frisky again, their checkered, unaligned past be damned. Start anew; forget the old. Rebirth.

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March 28, 2025 · 1:57 pm

00460215

What’s going on here? artist Barry De Boy w/ glowing red tie wondered about the meeting in the wee woods. Pirate treasure? he picked up. Islets of Langerhans?

He then notices it moving toward the group from between the legs of the nearby elephant giraffe. Dali Tiger. Was he dreaming? He must be dreaming. But in pinching himself he doesn’t wake up. Finished with the legs, the dream tiger was upon him, AAHHHHH!

With a start, Barry, sans tie now, woke up on the couch in his new Jeolla rental perched atop a scenic cliff. Wendy, still in a pure white dress instead of her usual striped one, was already kind of awake on a nearby chair, having sort of observed him through the night. She’d been summoned but had arrived late. Barry was already asleep by the time she showed up. She didn’t think it wise to rouse him. She wanted to see what would happen. Would he put the tie on again? Would he have one of those Dali dreams?

Turns out it was so.

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March 27, 2025 · 10:57 pm

00460214 (a new high and low of it all 04)

Time to take the next step.

And the next number. Power *off*!

—–

“‘Bout time.”

“*Sorr-ry*”

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March 27, 2025 · 9:45 pm

00460213 (power)

“Sir?” (pause) “Sir?”

“Oh yes, young Fink,” distracted Newt finally acknowledges his presence at the door to his study. “How’s it going? Everything alright with the computer upstairs and all?” He didn’t look at Fink Humann, kept staring at the screen of his own computer.

“Yes, fine sir,” said Fink. “It’s just that it’s 7 o’clock. Time for me to leave. I’m saying goodbye is all. Like, er, like I do every time I come over here… at this time.”

Newt checks his watch not on his arm, gives a little start. “Oh dear, didn’t realize it was so late. Better wrap this up. Well, er, thank you, Fink, for telling me the time and the lateness of it all. And I suppose I’ll see you again… tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is a big day, sir.”

“Please, Fink. You can stop calling me sir. You’ve come over, what is it, almost every day for the past 2 weeks?”

“Except that Sunday when Jack and I went plane flying, yes.”

“We’re friends now,” emphasized Newt from his chair. “Come over here, actually — I know it’s getting late and you need to get back to the treehouse but I — I want your opinion on this. I’m serious. Here.” And Newt waved him over, which he complied with. “What do you see?” he asked as Fink Humann also stared at the monitor with him.

“That’s er, your wife,” said Fink, seeing her image dominating the screen. Fink knew this was Wheeler now and not another form of their precious Princess Pinky Gumm. Wheeler herself told them that during a visit the other day to their treehouse.

“No, *behind* her. What do you see on the wall over there?”

“Um, JEO — GEOT,” he read on the poster. “Jeogeot,” he combined.

“Very good. The continent we’re now on.”

“Jeo-geot,” Fink repeated. “Jeogeot,” he collaged again.

“Yes,” said Newt. “Fine and dandy. But what else is there?”

“Um… people.”

“People, yes. And…”

“Dinos.”

“Dinosaurs, right. Aannd…”

“Um, an elephant?”

*Elephant*? Newt thinks. Does young Fink here not know what a giraffe is?? But then Newt realized Fink had inadvertently given him the answer to the riddle he’d been pondering so deeply about all this afternoon and early into the evening. The phone rang on his table. Wheeler obviously, Newt thought without checking the number.

“Thank you again, Fink. We’ll be talking soon.” He pats him on his shoulder to signal their time was done.

“But not tomorrow,” Fink says while walking out of the study, making Newt realize that tomorrow was the day mechanical contraption Bimbo was suppose to arrive from Fink and Jack’s native Oooo. Fink might not be coming around as much after that, and perhaps not at all. He’d miss the lad if so. Perhaps there was another way, hmm. He finally answers the phone that’s been ringing all this time.

“Where *are* you?” Wheeler emits.

Where are *you*? Newt wanted to say in return but knew it didn’t matter. Could be anywhere in the world… or nowhere. He’d find her whatever. Just up the stairs from down. “Be right there,” he said not into the phone but in the air all around.

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March 27, 2025 · 1:51 pm

00460212

Dali Park.

Tall matches tall, as tall as need be.

The (Dali) Tiger that got away.

What is he talking about beneath the cypresses in this wee woods of my Nawt Vaya Free State hillside parcel called Old Newtonia for now? Can’t quite make out the words.

Wait. I definitely heard something about pirates and a treasure map. Pretty sure of it.

Full circle, then.

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