Category Archives: Jeogeot

May 11, 2025 · 1:37 pm

00460602

She was already on her 3rd coffee and 4th Blue Moon single of the day. From her solo period of course. She doesn’t like the Cracks, her old group, nearly as much, prefix them with US, UK or any other country — doesn’t matter. But her solo period, especially after the suicide/murder attempt (another reader’s choice): primo. Pure punk while also somehow remaining pure pop, unholy yet uncannily successful marriage of the two. She takes another sip while she listens to another tasty lick from the guitar of none other than Cary E., soon to be known as Car E. and then just CARE w/ all caps, logical terminus reached on the name transmutation process. Formerly of Sunamai of course, helping out Blue Moon on this particular track called “No More Big Leagues,” a minor hit that kicks off her first solo album “Louisville Cardinals” — playing on the fact that the state of Kentucky contains no actual big league baseball team unlike neighboring Ohio with its Cincinnati Reds and Cleveland Indians and likewise neighbor Missouri with its own double team pairing of St. Louis Cardinals and Kansas City Royals. But believe me, don’t let the name fool you, she imagines saying to her brother Ted, more fond of the Cracks (a Crackhead of course): the album is definitely big leagues, and she then imagines herself laughing at his irritation to this statement of fact. “Johnny Rose Bench” is also a pretty well known love ballad from side two. And of course there’s “Elvis Esley.” Or Isley — no one really knows which except Blue Moon herself and she’s not saying.

The old timey dial telephone rings beside her. Probably station manager Marty, she reasons, calling to complain that I’m playing too much Kentucky and to cool it with the Blue Moon. She decides then and there to play the entirety of the the “Louisville Cardinals” album, just not lift the needle off the spinning vinyl record after the first track is done. And maybe play all the rest of her solo work — in order — after that. Take the phone off the hook and just *do* it. She calculates how quickly Marty could get here from Chilbo for the canning.

Can of Worms, yes, she thinks while track 1 ends and track 2 (“St. Louie Blues”) begins. Just like in New York.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0602, Chilbo, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya+, New York, SG Park

Tagged as BIG RED MACHINE, Blue Moon KentuckyC2077^^+++$, CAN OF WORMS, Carolin^^+++%, CaryC2077^*++$, Jonny SilverhhandC2077^*++$, Marty^*++$, Ted^*

May 11, 2025 · 7:42 am

00460601

“Morro Bay??” Dreaming Frank Lynn was expecting a sign for Paleto Bay but got a surprise, Real Life location intruding in on Virtual here. He suddenly has another important piece of the puzzle. Now to find the Rock.

“There!” he said, seeing it coming into view in the distance after passing a large beach dune. Well… sort of, he thought. Not quite Morro Rock but pretty obviously the duplicate down here. And out there in the bay beyond it: the 4 islands with the, um, bodies. 2 apiece, he knew. A central mystery. 4 islands, 8 bodies. Infinity.

Carolin manifests back at the center.

888 Infinity Lane

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0601, California, GTA, Jeogeot, Juho, Nawt Vaya+

Tagged as 102, Carolin^^+++%, Frank LynnGTAV^*+++$, MORRO, NODAL, ROCKS

May 8, 2025 · 9:53 pm

00460511

Wheeler made sure she rented the last room in the town’s hotel so that Benny Right Horn would be forced back into the caves, lucky her. Jackson Bloch — I *mean*, Bob the Builder from The Burg — shortly joined her. They were here at the End of Time researching infrastructure and solutions to. Bob hadn’t been here since the last time he visited, which is logical. Similar to Jer Left Horn’s last presence in this land, that would be around 5 years back now. Why did he visit then? Well, same reason. He was looking for answers. He had been born here as it turned out.

“Bob?” Wheeler called across the room, using his new name instead of the old still. As they agreed upon. “You all right over there? Have room for that, ahem, pipe on the couch with you?” Wheeler understood Bob was sleeping with the pipe but that was okay. His wife had died 3 years ago and so he’d turned a little weird in the meantime. Fetish with infrastructure. Deadly weapon doubled as a new wife and visa versa.

“Okay,” said Bob, adjusting the pipe relative to his body. They must stretch out together in exactly the right way. To make this happen, Bob had to prop it up on both couch ends and slide underneath it. Wheeler didn’t want to see!

“Listen, Bob. I think it’s time for me to go exploring in those caves, poke around End of Time as a whole while everyone is asleep. So I’ll see you around.”

(to be continued, but only on Wheeler’s side of things)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0511, End of Time+, Jeogeot, The Burg+

Tagged as Benny Right Horn^*+, Jackson Bloch^*+, Wheeler Wilson^^+++\@

May 5, 2025 · 10:06 pm

00460508 (The Burg)

Downtown.

Uptown.

Midtown. Center Core. Between two highways, raised and ground level. Busy both. Much noise to drown out things like gun shots, knife wounds, screams in the night. Perfect place to crawl in and die.

Wheeler watches while James practices his graffiti once more, his final testimony. She still doesn’t know his name. Maybe never will now. Will again, as in his.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0508, Jeogeot, The Burg+

Tagged as GRAFFITI ARTIST, James Smoker^*+++, Wheeler Wilson^^+++\@

May 5, 2025 · 6:50 pm

00460507

*Done* with the folding and done for the day, she thinks, sweat beading on her forehead from all the humidity around here because of the, well, *water* — over her 2 feet and up to 3-4 feet, pheh. *Now* what? she wonders. Back to *his* place?

“TOILET,” he calls from over the intercom, making her realize she had one more chore to accomplish before she could get paid. Orders of the big boss.

“Wolvie, closing up for the day!” Emily said in synchronicity with the video from somewhere beyond the cracked door, trying not to look in. She’s learned to deal with it.

“Just visiting the bathroom again and done!” he called back.

—–

“Cleaning, of course,” said Wheeler about same bathroom. “Not the other stuff. But still quite nasty, one could say. I believe you could put the big boss firmly in the sadist category. It all just got… out of control.”

“Nah, you’re okay, you’re good,” opined James Smoker, sitting across the bum camp fire from her, still holding and puffing on two cigarettes at once — while he could. “No need to crucify yourself over the matter,” he says, watching her “burn” through the fire. Like a witch. Or maybe a witcher, hmm. “This so-called Big Boss (*cough*): sounds like he’s just a butthead, a butt *period*,” he continued in his gravelly voice growing deeper and more gravelly by the year, the week. He hadn’t told her about the terminal thing. And he hadn’t revealed his true name. Not yet. So she just kept imagining him as James Smoker.

“Nice of you to say so,” says Wheeler. “But I’m afraid the whole town knows, the whole town looks down on me.” Still burning away inside a fire of her own devising.

“Those *Uptowners* might,” said James Smoker to this. “But us Downtowners… we stick together through thick and thin. Like bounded sticks.” He puts his two cigarettes together with his two hands to emphasize his point. Burny sticks, she understands — local nomenclature. If she burns, he burns; nice gesture from him.

So James S. considered her a Downtowner, she thought. Interesting. Even though she worked Uptown, lived Uptown. Maybe Willa Brown Halter is on the wrong side of the issue.

“What about *Mid*town?” she decided to ask, curious about the so-called neutral zone between the divisions, upper and lower. Where she was floored by Charlene that day of the town meeting and so had to pick herself up off the slanted pavement in order to attend.

“Center Core?” he responded, thinking of his primary reason for coming here to this Burg in the first place. To find a place where he could crawl into and die.

He decides to just blurt it out, the reason, the end point. Only crackles from the fire for a while after that.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0507, Jeogeot, Nautilus, The Burg+, Upper Austra

Tagged as Benny Right Horn^*+, Charlene the Punk^^+++, Emily New Moon^^+++, James Smoker^*+++, Jer Left Horn^*+, MAID, Wheeler Wilson^^+++\@, Willa Brown Halter^^++, Wolvie^*++

May 4, 2025 · 7:03 pm

00460506

“Investigating a murder, ma’am. Blue Moon Kentucky. Know anything? A-bout it?”

“My Son!” she cried upon seeing him beam in on a ray of light. “Come back to me.”

“No ma’am. Not your Son. Or your Sun for that matter if that’s what you meant. Despite the beam and ray thing going on here beneath me.” But then he thought again. Clue!

Barry De Boy wakes up, immediately googles “Elvis Esley”. Or was it Isley?

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0506, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya+, SG Park

Tagged as Barry DeBoy^*+++%, Blue Moon KentuckyC2077^^+++$, Chef/Inspector Petty^*+++!, DALI, FLAWED PAINTING

April 30, 2025 · 9:14 am

00460501

“I’m going to rub than d-mn coffin right out of the painting, that’s what I’m going to do, hmm-mm-mm.”

“Paw?”

Andy twirls away from the flawed painting Uncle Herbert gave him as a wedding gift for his first marriage and toward his son from that marriage, trying to block his vision of what he was doing to it with his body as best as possible.

“Opie, what’re you doing out of bed?” Andy says in a harsher tone than normal, which of course Opie, being the sensitive child he is, picks up on. Something’s wrong, he senses.

“I-I just wanted some milk. And maybe cookies (!)” Should have been a laugh track there, Barry De Boy thinks from the couch, also understanding something’s wrong.

“Milk milk milk, okay okay okay,” Andy says while rushing over to corral his son and herd him toward the kitchen. “And then right straight back to bed. Do you realize what time it is?”

—–

After making sure Opie is good and tucked in again, Andy returns to the painting. But his rubbing has made the child’s coffin even *more* visible to his complete exasperation, uncovering additional layers of paint. “What the–” he says while staring at it, and then instinctively glances over his shoulder to make sure Opie didn’t come back down again. “That’s it that’s it, wedding gift or no, this painting’s got to *go*,” and he grabs it with both hands, intending to take it out to the squad car parked in the driveway and dispose of it in the dumpster behind Floyd’s first thing in the morning, before he even goes into the office. He’s just that determined — suddenly — to be done with the thing. Uncle Herbert hadn’t visited in months after all. But Aunt Bee, he thinks. Herbert was her favorite brother. She’ll notice, she’ll be upset; won’t let off until he puts the painting he gave us back up above the mantelpiece, pheh.

There’s another way, he realizes. Who can change a painting but a *painter*. “Barry De Boy,” he says aloud, probably to the camera.

“Barry De Boy??” Barry utters too. He looks down at the red tie, wakes up.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0501, Jeogeot, Mayberry, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS

Tagged as Barry DeBoy^*+++%, DALI, FLAWED PAINTING, NODAL

April 28, 2025 · 9:06 pm

00460416 (warm up)

“Prince Julian of Droop?!”

—–

“Someone had to take care of him, hubby of mine. Or her. I think it was meant to be us. A family. You, me, er (she points), it!”

“I don’t blame them for shedding all that hair on occasion, spoke Newt to on again off again mate Wheeler, back in their matching Mr. Moon t-shirts for the occasion. “General rated sim here but what can you do.”

“Make sure no one can see in. Make it private even. Plus (she gazes), they have hair underneath their hair. Whatever that means.”

“It means they’re *special*.” 2n1, both understood.

He turns toward the interior. “Now where were we?”

“Summoning a spirit. On that ottoman over there.”

“Oh yeah.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0416, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS

Tagged as CROOKED, Newt/Windmill Man^*+++&, NODAL, Prince Julian of Droop^*+++, TILE, TILE MANIFESTO, Waldrop^*+!, Wheeler Wilson^^+++\@

April 28, 2025 · 7:59 am

00460415 (The River Styx?)

Rockstahr, Philip thinks while staring at the red green blue yellow lines again. Gotta find the origin. Who is this madman behind it all? Across the water?

“Whaddaya think, Frank?” he said after the story was over, still staring across the Nawt Vaya waters that had replaced the Alamo Sea waters in their now smaller, less broad virtual existences. “Little Heaven? Little Hell?”