Category Archives: 0101

00480101 (new month, new photo-novel)

“Who are you? And what are you doing here??”

——

“He said he was this guy. I’m telling you Frank. These walls are haunted!”

“Simmer down, Philip. Say he *gave* this to you?”

“Yeah; just dropped it into my inventory and then vanished. Said he lived here. He’s lived here for a long time. Behind the fireplace; in the walls. Watching. This is a colored version of him where I saw a white one. But I know they’re the same. And… sorry about saying the word colored,” he apologized while looking over at his black friend, who took the mention in stride. “Like black-and-white and colored TVs I suppose,” Philip needlessly continued the apology. “No harm meant.”

“Watching, huh. Creepy.” Frank didn’t believe Philip’s story but was just going along for the ride.

“Like I said, Pierrot’s the name. Edward Pierrot. Said he died here or something, then mentioned Alabama. But now he’s back, he said. Like the Alabama Phoenix, whatever that means.”

“But… Phoenix is in Arizona. Dawg,” he added to make it more authentically him.

“I don’t know. But I, um, might not be coming up as much, Frank, to be honest with you. He’s *watching*. How can I play pinball in peace and escape all the stress of the world if I know *that*.”

“Truly an issue. Well, tell you what, Philip. I’ll dig into it, maybe hire some kind of exorcist, you know.”

“Really?” exuded Philip, still not catching on that Frank doesn’t believe anything he’s saying. “That would be *great*, bud.” And he punched him on the shoulder to show his gratitude and then excused himself, saying he’s late for dinner with Lexi down at the sea. He still didn’t like Frank to call Nawt Vaya a lake but Frank doesn’t do that much anymore. He’s caught on too. He likes it here! No dead fish smell, etc. Much better than the Alamo where it/they came from. “Remember the Alamo,” Philip likes to say. “And then forget all about it,” he adds the punchline, the joke of it all. Alamo > Nawt Vaya. Fate, they’ve determined. Lexi too in her own special way and special place manner.

After he went home, Frank continued to stare at the painting Philip left behind. Frank can’t return it immediately or Philip will see it show up in his lost and found folder and maybe get wise to his little game. So he just moves the thing up into the ceiling so he won’t have to look at it all the time. He’d have to talk to Lexi about Philip’s new issues first chance he gets. Maybe an extension of the ones we’ve seen him saddled with in photo-novel 47 — just completed in the nick of time for its end of August deadline, yay!

https://bakerbloch.com/virtual/sunklands-2025-middle/


Another Edward Pierrot from a land far removed now (Mythopolis).

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0101, Alabama, Jeogeot, Mythopolis, Nawt Vaya, NVFS, Wazob

00470101 (Blow Boy)

She sang about freedom in this New Island venue where she married one of the Edwards/Eddys early that day in late April’s May, the new island husband joining her on congas. Then she sang about prison, the 7 reduced to 6 and 6 and 6.

I’ve seen her before I believe. Called her up but it was the wrong number. Killed and beheaded by the Witcher but rose back like the Alabama Phoenix, monstrous fangs in their appropriate slots across the inner mouth, SMILE.

She gets away by being in her own sphere.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0101, Alabama, collages 2d, New Island^, Witcher

00460101

BEGINNING OF “SUNKLANDS PHOTO-NOVEL 46”!

So eventually I was able, with repeated shoves, to physically push Tobor out of the water and onto the shore until he seemed to kind of settle himself directly on the line between land and sea, my first big indication of what was going on here although I didn’t know it at the time. It could be construed I was saving the figure from drowning, but, if so, that’s certainly not the full story. The guy was dying, that’s a fact. And he seemed to be going out on his own terms. But something happened at the shoreline, something quite unexpected. He didn’t have to *choose* the way he was heading and was so hesitant to accomplish. He could simply wait on the shore for death to come to him. *I*, through character Greg Ogden here, had created that option, that scenario. Soo… who am I?

—–

So we’ve started “Sunklands Photo-Novel 46” with this figure directly trodding the line in his odd gait between sand and tide. Time to reveal who he is.

No, not *that* Peter Bergman. Or Bergmann if you use the Austrian spelling of the surname, where he claimed to be from. Although that’s what first caught my eye about the name when a related video popped up in my algorithmically generated Youtube feed, being a big big Firesign Theatre fan since back in college days. More on that soon. No, instead it’s *this* Peter Bergmann, seen here checking into a Sligo, Ireland hotel via CCTV footage on the evening of June 12, 2009, 4 days before his death in the same area. Cause of death? Heart attack. *Not* drowning. Keep that in mind.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0046, 0101, Europe, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, SG Park

00450101

Innocent looking enough, right? Vacant backlot for my Aisle of Palms virtual city of 4096 square meters area and 64 x 64 meters design. Wrong. It represents The Pit, a limit for development in My Second Lyfe. The Pit absorbs, the Pit devours even. Much like the Mystery Flesh Pit did to Rose/Emily over in the upper right central part of Maebaleia in a super city that seems to be receding in strength lately itself, with numerous large and small lots for sale dotting the area presently. Here: a different continent (Jeogeot). But same results on a more minor scale.

Q: So Aisle of Palms will not continue.

A: I don’t see how. I haven’t really worked on the town in 1/2 a year. Why keep it around?

Q: The Pit blocks.

A: Indeed.

In other news: Tibet.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0045, 0101, Big Woods, Jeogeot, Maebaleia/Satori, Twin Peaks, Washington, X-City^

00440101 (the return of Strevor, Philip)

“Damn cube, OW! Why do they have to be so many damn cubes in my dreams lately, pheh.”

“Ow ow… ow. F-cking toe.”

“Hmm. Looks like Franklin was wrong. Nothing here, huh. Dead end. Nothing left to do but wake up.” He relieves himself on the canal wall even though he’s underwater. Then, getting down to the business at hand, starts slapping himself. Takes a while, but he enjoys it all the same.

—–

“Why is your face so red, dawg? You get slapped up by a woman or something? Speaking of which…”

—–

“Where’re we going Franklin?” he said, looking back at the coffee shop from whence they came.

“You’ll see. Just down the block.”

—–

“Are *these* your damn cubes or something? We were just here Tuesday after all. You were complaining about the art, and how simple it was and that you could knock up something like that — your words — after 12 beers and one hand tied behind your back. ‘No,’ you said. ‘Make that two. 2 beers and *12* hands,’ you tried to joke, but you were already pretty drunk at the time. Should have been drinking coffee back then too. Or eating… something.”

“I-I don’t know,” he said about Franklin’s theory about the cubes and the dreams, then looked around, actually still in a dream… something. “Hey, where’s Mike? Did we ditch Mike somewhere?”

“Dawg, where’s Mike??”

“That’s what I’m asking *you*. Dawg.”

“Mike?” Franklin calls in one of the bushes around the big red cubes. “Mii-ke?”

“Well he’s not in *there* for Christ sake. He’s not missin–” Trevor stops. He remembers… an S. An S in a bush. Flaming (SWITCH).

Part 2: Mikie, not Mike

That night he goes back to the dead end canal ditch and sees something after hitting his toe once more on that in-the-way big goddamn cube, ow ow ow! 1st monkey mosaic. “Frank Lynn was *right*!” he said before starting to slap himself red again.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0101, Back Rooms, C2077, GTA, Kabusie

Seven (Dan sim)

Here I sit and think about my outstanding pinkness.

How did it come about? Well, it was *stolen*. From Baker Blinker. Way back in the day. Model 1.0 you could call it. Now I am considered to be a savior of some sort. The white horse leads, the black horse steers.

I came here…

… in a boat.

But not that one.

Maybe here I can get away from testers Fern and Lichen. Be my own body in my own person. That’s the hope.

Mama T. and calf will help me.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0043, 0101, Hana Lei^^

Hazelwood

There’s also what I’ve labelled a blue room and a red room about the place, but let’s start with the yellow or golden one, central in several ways. Tania, a Valentine’s gift from Gladly in days gone by, stares at a computer screen depicting a Rainbow Sphere twirling merrily in on itself. Makes her think of Christmas and her maw. Golden bars stacked on a table beside her. Small sofa with Saints style fleur-de-lis decorated throw pillows behind her of the same color. Her dress is also kind of the same hue. She sits in the middle of the manor, unobserved. The building she’s in twirls in on itself all around her too. One named Wayne, although the description says Wayen. Tania’s boss was never the best of spellers. Plumb pitiful actually, but don’t bring it up to her face or you may get a smack. So this is where we’ll begin.

The Maebaleia continent here is still relevant in Our Second Lyfe. So is Jeogeot, Heterocera, Sansara, Nautilus, Corsica, Gaeta V, Zindra, and, heck, don’t get me started about the various Bellisseria ones, as large now as all the original ones I’ve just listed combined I would suppose. Like Atlantis Rising — again in the middle of it all or between the 2 mainland hemispheres, linking them up in fact. Azores greatly expanded in relative scale.

Her replacement Patricia, a St. Patrick’s gift also from the past, arrives at the Secret Door Bookshelf waiting her turn. Not yet.

Still thinking of Xmas, she changes the screen. She replaces a beloved ornament named Girly Santa with a shiny new train, golden in hue as well up front, the place she decided it would poke out of the tree’s innards.

Her user found it in the woods. Just waiting for him. It turns a Christmas Tree into a Winter Tree proper, extending its life to, say, Arbor Day or thereabouts, he figures. Or at least March 17th.

Thanks “Bigfoot”!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0101, Concreek, Frank Park, Haze County, Maebaleia/Satori, Redsland, Whitehead Crossing

00410101

She tired of yellow so she changed to orange, another kind of disguise. The woman on the road directed her to the man on the tractor in the distance — up at the farmhouse — but she could travel only so far. Ran out of gas, we’ll say. Another man was waiting who turned out to be the same as the one on the tractor, which was only trick of shadow.

“My you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said in his gravelly old voice when she approached, being use to only cows around here. “What’s your name, Hot Pink?”

“Pink actually,” Marsha “Pink” Krakow answered with a wry smile. “But you call me Marsha — I only let friends call me Marsha.” Lie lie lie, she thought. They call me *Pink*, which you never will again you old pervy man on the road. She noted his half buried legs. “Looks like the ground’s a bit soft around here.”

“This?” He looked down too. “Got caught in some quick terraforming by the owners, people named Locus. Only met ’em once or twice I believe. Now I can’t get out.”

“Would explain the smell,” Marsha said, noticing it for the first time. She wondered if she should pull him out, get him going again.

“Don’t worry,” he said, sensing her desire to help. “Owners will come around again soon enough; they’ll set me free.” With this, he looked hopefully down the road beyond Marsha’s now orange VW, beyond the woman still standing there. Christina I believe is the name, from Wyeth County, Missouri. Waiting on her dad Andrew.

—–

She found herself driving up the road again to the farm with the tractor. She didn’t run out of gas this time. There was no man on the bench waiting for her. Instead someone was actually at the tractor, apparently working on it. Christina’s father. “My you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said as she approached from behind.

“H-how do you know?” She got within 10 feet or so and halted, looked at the pleasant back of the dude.

“Switch places with me. Know a lot about tractors?” He had seen her from before, she realized. Test run.

“Not really. I was… *pretending*,” she decided to explain herself.

“Nothing pretentious about farming young lassie.” He turned. “Could you pipe down for a moment, Wally?” he requested to his punk playing son on the left now, a Ramones song I believe, perhaps “Rockaway Beach”. Hard to tell since they all sound alike and he’s just kind of mumbling the words as he quickly strums along. Probably doesn’t know the lyrics, Marsha guessed. But could it be possible? Could he know about her stint in prison?” Just then, he pretty clearly mumbled the words “Rockaway Beach.” It *was* that song; he *knew* about the prison. What *is* this place, actually?

“Christina!” the tractor man suddenly belted out in the direction of his older child. “Time for dinner!” Her wait was over.

“Joining us I assume,” he spoke to Marsha. Was she?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0101, Teepot^^

00400101

Third time’s the charm as they say. Wheeler/Shelley has found a temporary home in the Sandfly region of the original Bellissaria continent, along with her two boys. A powerful psychic told her that down the road she’d have to choose between Arthur and Edward. But for now she’s treating them as one. Two fer One, 1/2 price on each. Bargain, she says. Cheap as cake, or at least yogurt. This region, this sandy place, embodies that idea.

She may have functional neighbors we’ll see.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0101, Bellisaria, Sandfly

red over blue (Democracy continues)

It’s a very blue place, she thinks. 10:01 AM. Yet she stares.

Wonder why Myrtle doesn’t like linden plants? she ponders.  I’ve *always* liked linden plants. Maybe the only one she respects, the branchy winter tree with no leaves, is my *least* favorite, hmph.

Someone else should be with me here in this lonely spot, she ruminates. Someone else blue.

She suddenly has the urge to get up and dance. Must be the costume. And the place.

—–

“I see plumeria over there,” she spoke later to rail sitting Edward, her chosen beau for the day. She’d changed into something safer, something non-dancey, urge abated. “I see palm tree no. 1, palm tree no. 2. And then a cypress tree 1 just up the hill. What’s not to love?”

“Different strokes for different folks,” Edward offered to Shelley’s continued rant. She just couldn’t get the logic of Myrtle’s opinion.

“Very regimented. *No* chaos. No mention of mainlands. What a mess! she might exclaim. Yet… she’s there. On Constance.”

“*You* put her there. Even gave her that weird belly button, the on and off thing.”

“The Abyss must be a key. That’s where we meet, her and me. That’s where I can tell her off if she doesn’t friend me.”

“Drop it,” urges Edward to the girl, perhaps the love of his life. If Wanda doesn’t enter the picture again. “Let it go.”

“The *island* is all about that merger.” But as she spoke this, she began to doubt her words. It was more than just that.

—–

The next day Shelley replaced Edward with Arthur in the sim of Escanes and they studied the illegal TILE treatises of Bart and Lisa in a sand covered underwater room directly beneath a false island planted with those plumeria and palms, thinking their actions there were unexposed to the prying eyes of superiors on the FILE. They weren’t; didn’t call them that for nutt’n.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0101, Long Islands, Nautilus, Wild West