Category Archives: 0114

February 14, 2020 · 7:13 am

ramblings

“Is this Egg Hill Sink, my Lord?”

“Think about what you just said,” I spoke in Ben Wolf’s head (disguised as his “Lord”). “Egg – Hill – Sink,” I said plainly and calmly.

“Oh.” He turned and looked toward The Yuiselles. “I think I see.”

I explained more clearly. “This is a hill shaped like an egg, true. Kind of,” I added.

“Then it is a pointer.”

I realized he was right. I decided not to talk in his head any more today. He must head back home and discuss his “revelations” with his wife the Irish Lass. Forgot her name right off. Even though I gave it to her.

—–

“I had a vision today Phyllis (*Phyllis*: that was it).”

“Oh yes, dear? Another one? Did this involve The Lord?”

“Well… yes. He said that I was standing on the summit but it wasn’t *the* summit.”

“Moork Summit? Is that what you’re talking about still?” Phyllis was distracted by thoughts of the Small Kowloon House formerly situated on the small island in the middle of Danshire, even though she didn’t know it by that name. Everyone called it [Capitol Hill]. The shack had disappeared overnight, with Red Pepper from the local neighborhood watch sending out an instagram message apologizing for the eyesore and saying the situation had been dealt with. But back to *trying* to listen to her husband’s religious ramblings — more of ’em.”

“The summit was instead a chasm. I don’t know what that means.”

Phyllis realized she missed an important part of his revelation while spacing out about the island and the shack, but didn’t want to backtrack. That bridge is best left to be built by one coming after her. She’s already on the other side of the chasm — what does *she* care?

“Um hum,” she instead answers without full understanding. The husband finally fell silent. Back to thoughts of the shack…

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December 12, 2019 · 10:27 am

house, church, tree

“So what do you think, Herbert?”

“It’s all I ever dreamed of, Baker Bloch. The house is perfect. Thank you so much (!).”

“You’re very welcome. I, um, assume April Mae will be following you soon.”

Herbert Gold hangs his head down, then up again, giving away his doubts. “I would assume.” If she ever gets over the Breeze lapse! he adds to himself. Maybe she will. It’s only virtual reality, after all. Nothing’s real. Is it?

“And this, my friend,” Baker waves his arms around, “is St. Merry’s Church. I’ve toned it down from Collagesity a bit. But you still have Merry.”

“Yes, I see.”

“And then you still have the clown over there. One and the same.”

“Sacrifices?” queried Herbert, knowing the history of the church in Collagesity.

“You bet! Bring your body apron if you sit on the first several rows.”

“Fantastic. I love it. I love it all. ”

“Let’s hope the Princess doesn’t have any complaints.”

“Why would she?” exclaims Herbert, not doubting his words. “Like you said before, the *tree* covers all; makes up for all mistakes.”

“Live Oak, right.”

“Fantastic.”


Live Oak.

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September 29, 2019 · 6:42 am

flagged

He had to get it over with. It should have been done yesterday. Danny had to come to Dewey to live. For good. That’s why the names are in his county.

Just right over there.

Better, hrmph, hop to it.

—–

—–

“I don’t know what to say, Man About Time.”

“Jim K., please,” The Man About Time requested about his name. “Call me Jim.”

“Well, whatever, this is a wonderful gift. Thank you!”

“And, as you can see, we’ve copied both your American and Florida flag from the trailer to here. Much more room. And Greyhound Imperial Town is right next door. Hear they have a nice art museum you can clean up. I know you like art.” Not quite enough to save your Fal Mouth Moon job, though, The Man About Time thinks to himself here. Tronesisia’s orders: Danny had to go. The Humanvillians had jumped off the confines of 2-dimensional art and come alive. Herbert and April Mae Humanvillian, ugh. Denizens directly from Mammoth Cave (Kentucky Town) to an art gallery near you. They’ll be in for a while. Hope they like their new neighbor.

—–

“This is *ridiculously* small,” complained a totally pissed off April Mae to her husband. “This door won’t even *fully shut*.”

But Herbert Gold was strangely taking all the upheaval quite calmly. Time for a change, he thought but didn’t speak aloud. I’m tired of servants and groundskeepers. We’ll be better off here. He was beginning to dwell on his exes again. And a new one possibly coming up soon.

Oh, and he didn’t die. Tronesisia brought him back to life. Guess that cheers him up a bit too.

And that’s how the Humanvillians came to Dewey. Soon they would explore the whole West End peninsula, all the way to Sentinel at its coastal terminus. Much more interesting in the days when megaburg WES was around, the musical birthplace of the band Love The Three and its Marty, Lemon and George Harris’ Son. Destined they were for great, star studded things, once Ingor was added.


Ingor “Redman” Ratts in WES, c.2007


Now where *are* they?

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July 18, 2019 · 8:52 am

recovered

Iggy Stooge stares into the central sim of Blue Junkyards from the edge of his parents’ property. Is this really where he wants to settle down now that he’s been rejected by Baker B. for the current novel? This backwater place? He had dreams of city life in Regaltown, in Horns of Hatton even, the capital crown jewel of Maebaleia’s South. Not the Deep South: that was instead Cassandra City, but of similar size. He could have been police chief, fire chief, even mayor if Baker B. so chose.

But this bayou? He’s not a flatlander at heart and he knows it. There was one other option: return to Pipersville, where time is more fluid. Not as much as Golden Sink (hence the reasons for the auditions there), but still — the bomb and all. Another sinkhole (like Golden Sink).

He rezzes in his repaired TV head once more to ponder the possibilities…

… and then eventually heads back home. Or his parents’ home actually.

If only they weren’t so infatuated with those darn butterflies.

—–

“What color breakfast do you want tomorrow, dear?”

“Blue, green, whatever,” Iggy Stooge replied unenthusiastically, thinking of Pipersville instead.

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May 26, 2019 · 7:03 am

continuation

This was the night Andy Warhole, iron hand ruler of White Horse Village near the southern shores of Blue Feather Sea (aka Little Sea aka Big Lake), learned about usurpers Your Mama and Raggy Too over at the concert area next door. They didn’t intend to pay the tariff for importing songs! Well… all of California will suffer for that. And anyone who has to suffer through Mondays. Words of love, those are. Tough love.

“I’ve seen them in the night talking to white horses. I knew you’d find out sooner or later. So I intervened. I beg mercy,” he gruffed, pecking his paws against the wooden floor while rebalancing.

Mercy, thought Andy Warhole, iron hand raised and then repeatedly pounded against the non-iron one. They could ruin *everything*. All his future plans. Future plans for the past. “Ross C.,” he demanded. “Wake up Ross C.” The robot sprang alert. “Yes sire,” it clipped metallically. “Eggs and bacon and livermush as usual?” Warhole emitted air. “No, this *isn’t* breakfast yet, Ross C.” He shook his head and then indicated Mamaduke, the dog of Your Mama and perhaps Raggy Too. “Tell her, hound, what you’ve told me.” Perhaps she can actually earn her money now as a robot from the future, an *expensive* robot with all the perks, most of which he afterwards found lacking or absent altogether. A *defective* future robot he soon realized he had on his hands. After the seller had conveniently slithered away back into the web of time.

Mamaduke repeated the issue at hand for Ross C. Her thinking lights began blinking on and off rapidly. Bleeping and blipping noises emitted from the general area of her head. Soon she had a calculation. “Kill then,” she clipped out. “Kill them all.”

Made sense to Andy Warhole. Good job!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0014, 0114, Maebaleia/Satori, White Horse Village^

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March 13, 2019 · 7:09 am

whisper

Saturday Photos 01

This is a shot of downtown Notherton, a former Mossman hot bed of action and adventure. Now deserted, supposedly. Main Mossman (Mossmain?) Gene Fade has stated he use to work in its metropolitan area in a 5 sided mall managing a cappery.* I believe his store sold the equivalent of our baseball caps, or at least that was the most popular item. He mentioned a game like baseball, but with extra bases and some other different stuff. Have to look all that up from the Baker Blinker Blog again; the game of Whack-Bat from Fantastic Mr. Fox comes to mind. So much to comb through in these blogs now (!).

Notherton is in Frank Park across The Greenway from nearby Mocksity, another important Mossman community.

IMG_0057smaller

And this is the road leading to Gene Fade’s Mountain to the west, where he was born and raised before moving to Notherton. This is the very highway Gene Fade walked all the way from Jupiter Rock to downtown Notherton after a critical argument with his parents about the TILE religion. You see, Gene Fade desired to become a Tilist and his parents disapproved. He went back to Jupiter Rock, but it was never the same for him. He had opened the box to discover the rest of his life.

IMG_0065smallest

—–

“Baseball again, Wheeler. Cappery. Obviously connected to Mmmmmm Grassy Noll’s sighting of Mossman Gene Fade over in Smoky with the big baseball and all. Kind of an interesting sim name, actually.”

“Smokey Ordinary, yes,” spoke Wheeler across from Baker Bloch at the Table. He was still dressed up as guru hobo Turchin McGurchin, counsel to Fair Ruby, friend to the cause of Max, warner of things to come. “Smoky Bottom. Beauty… Lovely. Do we know of the 3d Venus yet? Speaking for the whole.”

“No.” Through sunken hobo eyes, he stared fixedly at her. This could be 3d. This could be 3rd.

“What of Yarn Knob? You — or Turchin McGurchin I suppose — warned of the coming of toys. Does this represent the end of Our Second Lyfe?”

Baker Bloch as Turchin McGurchin looked around. “Apparently not.”

“What next?” Wheeler came back quickly.

Baker stared again. “Who are you?”

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January 4, 2019 · 8:54 am

missing 02

He didn’t want to, but Monsieur Gold really had no other choice but the fuel up at Widow’s Lair since Sparky (Sally Spark O Naut, again) was nowhere to be found and there was no self service at her station. He’d been here once before. He didn’t like the scene. But the Lying Widow was gone as well. Thank God in Brown Heaven.

He had pumped his gas and was about to leave…

… when he noticed the hole across the road. Let’s see, he realized, that would be just beyond the southwest corner of Burnt Oak… like Sparky’s is just beyond the northeast corner of same. I wonder if the two gas station owners — good and evil — planned it that way, Monsieur Gold pondered. Almost a perfect opposition. And both are *missing* now.

—–

Meanwhile… inside…

“Tell us what happened Lying Widow,” demanded Axis the Tin Tin Soldier Man, Clubby by his side as usual. “You must have seen them go in. You see *everything* with those big peepers of yours.”

“I’m not saying anything,” she barked gruffly while struggling with the ropes. “You can burn me like a witch and I’ll cook to my grave without speaking. Talk is cheap. Go ahead and kill me.”

Axis TTSM smiled toward his demonic sidekick. “We’re going to do better than that, Lying Widow. We’re going to seal you in here. You’ll be trapped as much as the two traitors whose identity we have yet to learn. Thanks to your uncooperation.”

“Kill me,” Lying Widow demanded. “Kill me!” she pleaded as they exited The Bar at the End of Time, laughing maniacally. “Kill me!!” she screamed as their footsteps died down the corridor.

—–

Later:

“Add a couple of trees, some chairs, half an old car, and noone will be the wiser this was *ever* opened up, Clubby. Case *closed*.”

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October 27, 2018 · 6:55 am

arrival

Interesting, thought Buster Damm, teleporting into the center of the Tussock sim under the cover of darkness. Right in the middle of the railroad.

He will call Duncan A. once he finds a good spot to sit at the restaurant. One he feels comfortable with.

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August 6, 2018 · 7:15 am

Wall, The

He was disguising himself as a chatty alien to this town. Lucytown it could be called. We’ll see. Maybe Walltown. Or just: Wall. Wallytown.

“How did this Wall come about, Peggy? I prefer Moon myself. Better music, maybe better lyrics even. Did you know there is a Moon on the opposite side of Wall in Allegheny County, Pennsylvania? And Pennington County, South Dakota for that matter. And now: here. This proves that our — *my* music will live on in time. Past the 21st Century. Past more, hopefully. Moon is permanent, and maybe it can drag the interior Wall along with it.” He shakes his head, playfully adjusts his mouth, laughing. “Inferior I meant there, although a Wall certainly does have an interior… and an exterior. Inner and Outer. Do you know why they hang green and red banners along the exterior of the Wall instead of, say, yellow and blue? I saw a blue car parked beside them today, in the middle of the road. Got towed — I called it in. Do you like chocolate, Peggy? How about lemonade? How about rustling me up a freshly squeezed glass of lemonade? Or do I have to go to Bar Lemon for that? I will, you know. Just down the Wall and through the tunnel and hang a right.”

It was only then that Roger Pine Ridge realized he was talking to a mannikin all along. The other Peggy at the bar — Peggy 02: same story. Only Natali was real here, and she wasn’t in the mood for conversation. A day off is me-time for her. Talk to the hand all day today. In costume, she was, of course, our Molly Lustrous, a dancer at Bar Lemon Roger just mentioned, and a constant ride provider for Fisher, another town newcomer. That crazy robot friend of his, she thinks with a slight grin. And that yellow colored girl he keeps yammering on about all the time and getting in trouble because of it. He doesn’t even know about the secret stash of ammunition in Drugstore Orange just below that could blow up a, well, a town about this size.

“You have to click the keg at the end of the bar,” she finally managed. The still drink-less Roger followed her point. Soon he had a cranberry martini in hand, complete with lemon slice.

“Ah yes. Thank you, stranger. My name is Albert. Albert Halsey. I’m from Oregan, Earth, USA. I’m on the run; out of breath. You know: Time. Constraints that drive one mad and induce Brain Damage, Money not the least of them. Do you know about Money? Time, Money, Brain Damage? It will all survive the test of time. Well beyond the 21st Century. Maybe even up to the *31st* Century.”

Natali was thinking: how to ease out of this bar scene as gracefully as possible. After all, there were about a dozen bars in Wall Wallytown she could visit by her estimation, and that may still be selling the burg short. Around every single blasted turn there seemed to be another one. Bar Lemon does a fairly steady business but it use to be different back in the old days. The days before the coming of the blimey Lindens. For this use to be a Lemony town through and through, Bar Lemon a link to that lustrous past. And herself as well. She could open up to this alien man sitting next to her and blow his freak’n mind. Give him a ride all over town and show him the sights, tell him where this and that use to exist and how it was mainly replaced by *inferior* structures and objects. Mr. Yellow knew too. Both of ’em. The town has certainly been pissed on by the Lindens. Yes, she could give him a total ear-full of info.

But it was her day off.

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May 19, 2018 · 7:31 am

Artist

Annie already has a small gallery near the center of New Island showing her nudes. Karl admires his own portrait again even after leaving. It literally brought him back to life. What a gal, he thinks. I must keep her forever.

Now let’s see. I head directly west to get back home I believe. Pretty sure.

But then he sees the teleport invite from that Infinity Point we mentioned before. Almost immediately, Karl was with Annie, the latter painting not a seascape as one would suppose from the location, but what happened at work today.

Karl takes a seat and watches the painting continue to evolve. He decides to let her concentrate on her work. After a minute or two, he speaks. “All I see is a buoy out there, baby doll, but whatever rocks your boat I guess. Whatever gets you motivated.”

“Um hum,” is all Annie grunted in response, finishing up the last bits. She was almost ready again.

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