Not here, eh? thinks visiting Wheeler from over at NWES City. He said he’s *always* here, spinning around the place on that oh-so-handy skateboard of his. And I so wanted to thank him for the other day. Oh well… just have to tell the others here that I came by; leave it at that. Maybe next time. I’ll try to message the little fellow.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0023, 0209, New Island^, Springfeld
King Lewis Johnson the Third’s canal boat arrived at quarter past 2 in the morning’s evening’s night day. Time was wonky in this part of old or original WES, merely the precursor, as it turned out, of the considerably larger New WES constructed further up the western Jeogeot coastline, or what was soon shortened to NWES, along with the overarching New WES Island — NWES Island now, with further distance put between it and the Omega continent’s New Island as well. The Moth Man would be pleased. He’s written a novel about *his* New Island and doesn’t want another place of that name to come between him and fame. I don’t either (!). His New Island should be unique. A no. 10 type of paradise, hidden until now. Bravo!
http://oceansanddreams.com/blog/2020/9/22/update-on-the-hum
Back to King Lewis Johnson the Third’s visit to Mad Anthony’s Nightfire settlement based on the Isle of Karma roleplaying sim. “We call those type of vehicles channel boats on Mars where I’m from. You’ll need a crowbar (to understand).” Mad Anthony, new lover of Linda Halsey, was clearly insane to think he was from Mars. Gary his manservant concubine beside him gently reminded the old, partially senile man that his home planet was Venus. He was not all right tonight. Marty’s Illuminati spell to soften his brains to tin or lead was working perfectly, another type of 10.
—–
“It is time for me to go back home to my neighboring sim, Anthony. I’ll pick up the canal, um, *channel* boat later. I wish you well on your brain issue.”
“Good night King Lewis Johnson the Third.” He looked at the sim boundary sign from his side. “You are indeed The Mann!”
“Thank you.”
Poor pitiful thing, he thinks while walking away.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0310, Jeogeot, New Island^, West End
There was a giant book, just out of sight. 6 fingered people.
Toothpick wants to dig himself a hole and hide away from his sister problems forever.
But Baker Bloch won’t let him.
“Wake up in there! Time to help me out again, ha.”
Supper Man is determined to work off those extra pounds he’s put on lately before his marriage to Dinner Girl Saturday after next Saturday after next Saturday. Super!
I wanted to fit this in here too. Meat City, a suburb of NWES City. A paper named Post formerly owned by Grahams.
Strange do’in’s in this here NWES Island. Like New Island but different. Less sand for one thing. More green, if not more grass. But I think the two are related. Both Big Escapes, perhaps. 10’s. The search for perfection in a microcosm.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0307, Black Ice, Marwood, Meat City, New Island^, NWES Island^
“Well, go ahead and read me my A B C’s or 1 2 3’s or whatever. We’ll head down to the station, then, and see who’s who and what’s not.”
“Break it off, Kevin,” spoke Jenny, out of her role as Heartsdale police officer Candy Candle Cane. Because she’s always on fire. “Big Black Smoke is out of room 03 again.”
“Uuhhh. I don’t care.”
“Shhhhh.”
—–
You have to go back, Jack. Blue is Pink and Pink is Blue. They’re calling for you.”
“Then I will take your name with me to remember you by, um, Precious. Jack Blue I am from now on.”
“Ingratiate yourself with Green, Brown. They will guide you. Leave Olive alone,” she warned.
They switched places and he ate her cake too.
—–
“Jack Blue, huh? You don’t *look* like a Jack. You’re certainly blue, though.”
“And you’re Green,” Jack Blue quickly followed.
“Pink is dead.” SEAN “Green” Penn’s head hung low, remembering the day he heard like it was yesterday even though it was 5 years ago. Now he was in Little Rock, Arkansas but certainly with a bit of the (New Orleans) blues left. And now a Blue itself shows up. Himself, herself. Something.
“I know,” Jack Blue tries to console, also thinking about Brown. Plans gone awry! “Let’s turn our attention back to the map and the next step.”
Green wipes his eyes and tries to focus. It all comes into place eventually. The Big Picture.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0020, 0106, Arkansas, Ashenlave^, Corsica, Heartsdale^^, New Island^
“‘666 Satan’, it’s called, Cathy A. One of my team researchers Scotty found it on a search for Dharmaraksa images, Google style — almost gave up for the night then checked one more time and found this. And, get this, turns out the main character of the series is named *Ruby*. *You’re* the 666th character of these Collagesity novels. Red Devil was here in this town as late as last week with his unknown establishment of Southern bias. Left a *sign* there: 66, which translates into the same (666).
“And I can *talk* to you without those blasted *hearing aids.* Everything points to you being Ruby yourself. Well, not *that* Ruby necessarily but *our* Ruby, the one that blew up *our* New Island at the age of exactly 15 1/2. Now keep that in mind when I read some notes Scotty sent me along with the (‘666 Satan’ texture).” Eraserhead Man pulls out a small notebook from his pocket. “Let’s see. Okay, this is from a combination of several sources. Alright: ‘Set in the near future, it tells the story of a teenage girl named Ruby Crescent who wants to become a treasure hunter.’ And then he goes on, um, ‘(She’s) a teenage girl of *15*’ — *our* Ruby’s 15 and a 1/2. Can’t get any more 15 than that.” Eraserhead Man flips a couple of pages in his notebook, then: “So there’s mention of a 4 year *timeskip*, just like New Island went though. Again: *our* New Island, not the one out in the middle of the Indian Ocean. This is Our Second Lyfe we’re talking about here. But — this is important too — *that* Ruby, the ‘666 Satan’ one, aged. Turned all voluptuous during those years. *Our* Ruby never changed. She remains, well,” and here Eraserhead Man cups his yellow cartoon hands underneath his breast region. “No real *b’s*. Apples in Preston Weston speak.”
“Hey, thanks a lot. I’ve got b’s.”
“Well I know you do, sweetie. But you’re naturally…”
“Petite,” Cathy A. finishes for Eraserhead Man. “Dainty? *Stunted*?”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0015, 0415, Gregson^, Maebaleia/Satori, New Island^
He couldn’t quite resolve the ruined and useless parasol from this distance — thought it another of the circling ravens at a glance. But this particular black shape remained motionless unlike the others. And it was more triangularly. He better go investigate.
This is when Dickie Doom first sat on the Throne of Jethro. Or was it the Bauer Throne. Anyway, that’s when he initially surveyed the ruined Fries with Cheese church where former New Island neighbors Mrs. Fogg and Ms. Frame hid out in the dark, dark days after the apocalyptic lime kiln explosion. Deafening it was to their ears, blinding to their eyes. Yet after several excruciating hours the sights began to return for each, the sounds. Silence all around for the longest time. Visuals, but of wrecks. Twisted metal. Tires. Crates and doors and chairs, paint removed by the disaster. Highways broken and trust up in the air instead of grounded and whole. The insects remained, hidden in the filthy soil. Then the birds came back. The blessed birds. The insects scuttled out. The birds swooped in, first one, then a few, then a flock (or murder). Gobble gobble. The cycle of life and death was restored in this small way. This opened the doors for others: rats, of course; a few wild cats who ate the rats, and then the larger animals. Mastodons. No, not mastodons. But some other large animals. Hippos might have numbered among them. Tigers. Yes: tigers. And dogs the size of rats the size of cats.
And the ruined parasol mirroring the ruined church turned out not to be black but purple, the color of violets. Dickie Doom missed flowers greatly.
He better get back to the shelter.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0012, 0409, New Island^, The Waste^^
“Jeez I haven’t been here in quite a while, Tin Tin, er, Axis. 1/2 a year? Maybe more.”
Axis, who was a dog now, couldn’t answer, but kept indicating spots of significance from before with his sniffing nose.
“That gun is *never* going to stop firing at me. The only way I can stay here… with you… is to keep sitting on stuff. This blue inner tube I always loved, for instance.”
And then, let’s see…
—–
—–
“She can’t return to that moment, on that bench. Pain. She’ll die over and over again.”
“One more try, Albert.”
—–
“See her leg? This must be where she was made, Alex.”
“The guns are silent now.”
—–
“Look. There she is again (!)”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0011, 0406, New Island^
—–
“So Karl (Karl!). What’s the story with the painting of the little girl with the blue purse?”
“That goes back a looong way, Dr. Superhero. With *blue* bowtie,” he adds on.
“Please, Mr. Bartender. Do tell.”
“I just did.”
He realizes the bowtie is the same as the purse, listening Mystic Girl thinks from the far side of the bar. Both tack ons. But does he realize he *is* the painting now? I created him. I should know.
“Something just happened, Karl.”
“Oh boy,” the furry bartender exclaimed anxiously, and quickly left the scene, claiming to be restocking in back.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0011, 0315, Middleton^, New Island^
Like Tronesisia, Leeman or Leemon has also become mobile enough to make his way over from New Island to Fishers Island and its Wallytown.
But he’s only seeing half the story so far about Bottle Mound, etc. He’s stubborn like that.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0010, 0615, New Island^, Wallytown/Fishers Island^
On weekends, when business was brisker, Ruby Roo worked as a receptionist for the Tina Queen Photographic Gallery, located almost exactly a city block west of her multi-story treehouse house she still resided in. But former housemate Tin Tin was no more to be seen, and Ruby suspected that he may have been drafted for the most recent version of the Trojan vs. Durexians war over in the east mountains where Timmy was from. Poor Timmy, she laments. Not born to exist in the harsh environment of Meat City — ideally should have stayed put in the hills supported and nurtured by a loving foster mother and father. But wars do that; separate loved ones from loved ones. She misses Tin Tin, but not nearly as much as Timmy.
Ruby puts on a brave face and continues inventorying the most recent batch of photos her boss Tina had taken during the week.
A very prolific snapper she is! But Second Lyfe will do that to you; so easy to take pictures here. Ruby herself, inspired by Tina and also the more abstract work in the Roads Gallery across the, well, road from this one, has taken up playing around with art a bit. Here’s an example of a computer sketch she made for a sculpture tentatively titled “Scratch”:
Here is a related work-in-progress she might call “Itch”:
Marvelous indeed. The more she becomes immersed in an artistic journey of her own, the more she finds herself attracted to rural and bucolic New Island for setting up a potential future studio — maybe at Mabel’s old house? But is the island still there after the Limekiln Catastrophe? Perhaps it depends on if she *wishes* it to be so. And she’s starting to think she does. She does indeed wish it to be so.
Maybe a switcheroo is needed: Fishers Island exchanged back with New Island. *Fishers* Island is destroyed, perhaps by that new burny fellow who just biked across its westward bridge.
The eastward bridge would then open and allow refuges to return to their former homes there, radiation levels subsided.
Hmmm.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0010, 0607, New Island^, Ruby's Empire/Fishers Island^
Sunklands 