I can see the Rainbow Sphere but I can’t get to it. Banned. Roger Pine Ridge still could, though. And therein lies the problem.
We must return to Iris.
“Some year we’re having, eh Spore?”
“Iiiim LOVING it!”
The United States of Our America is definitely in some kind of Civil War now, and I’m definitely on right, but just in the picture below. I’m a card carrying leftist. How did we become so polarized and broken? We politicize *mask wearing.* *Mask* – *wearing*. Ugh. But we must carry on, divided but somehow still united, and face the true enemies head first, rising fascism disguised as anti-socialism being one. I side with Rhodenwald (right) instead of what’s across the road.
It’s why Duncan has no desire for Baker Bloch to rent from Life Properties also across the road at the old Rhode Gallery site he sits in front of here, pheh.
“Don’t you dare,” he tells him. “Don’t you bloody dare.”
“What else do you want, Domino? Audrey will be here any time now!”
“You got to go cold turkey on the turkey,” is all his nephew had to say about his supplier showing up soon. “If you lay down the needle then you’ll hear the music like I hear the music, the voices, the… ‘Everything’!”
“Still babbling on about Firesign Theatre, pheh — The *Bill*. And don’t you *dare* call me dadd-i-o (again).”
“I — wasn’t. I just want you to listenn. It’s the one after the ‘Giant Rat’ thing you didn’t like before. You haven’t heard this yet. I think you’ll like.”
Domino lays down the needle.
45 minutes later, Audrey shows up with the junk. Sometimes lover Zach Black greets her with a beaming smile. “Girl, you’re just in time. We’re ready for a re-listen!”
“Great.” She lays down the supply on the bed and settles back for a long one.
“Did you know a cave is just a hole turned on its *side*?” Zach continues excitedly. “Imagine that. You gotta listen to this honey. Lay down that needle again, Domino.”
“Sure thing dadd — man.”
The wrong Baker Bloch has moved on. Peter then manifests the hole in the plot physically in Sanderton. “A *rose* would help,” he says while energizing the situation, as he can. And so he becomes one. Peter Rose — Peet Rose. An Old Red Star. Back to the past we go. He moves within.
Sorry, he’s having a little trouble.
He – moves — *within.*
Ben Wolf looked over the balcony’s edge and saw a flaw to the sim. The Surreal Gallery here could have extended the Linden pine forest from Ashlet, across this sim they own in toto (Claressa), and over to Derriandros. They still could — but he knew they wouldn’t. Still: a couple more prims for *art*.
With that, he backs up and takes in the 27 prim Egyptian balance sculpture of heart and feather again, the measurement of a soul to enter heaven. The heart of course must weigh less than the feather to properly cross the threshold. Many do not make it, understandably, probably the great majority. He wondered if he was such an unfortunate one. He worries about his soul a lot. Still The Lord seems to be on his side. Wonder where he is today? Ben thinks, waiting for the vivid internal dialog to return.
He then teleports into what he believes *must* be the mind of God, which, to his surprise, starts changing around him at regular intervals. Does God change all the time as well?
It was Alberta the Selenite butler behind him. He was always there, at the back of the hearth. Waiting to serve. Selenite, huh? Mssr. Gold thought. Wonder if there’s a connection…
… for he had just finished up re-reading photo-novel 12 on the house media feed, where the Rosehaven-Caledonia fictional universe was conceived. The one that featured Merry Gouldbusk as Princess-Queen, *not* the actual Princess ruler of Rosehaven. That would be Selena. In the universe of the here and now, where Caledonia is not Caledonia but Caledon, the somewhat larger micro-continent just south of Rosehaven. At the end of photo-novel 12 the two lands were united again, just like in olden days. I’d have to check back but I’d guess when Rosehaven was called Winterfell, the name changed several years ago to distance Selena’s realm from the Winterfell region in “Game of Thrones,” growing beyond cult status at the time to achieve universal recognition. Enough, said the Princess. She tired of telling outsiders that this was *not* a “Game of Thrones” role playing region. And so Rosehaven was born from Winterfell in Our Second Lyfe.
On the official Realm of Rosehaven blog, under the Chronicles header, you’ll find a good number of fictional stories about Rosehaven already, most of a much more serious and detailed look at the land and people populating it than my own. But a cool link is a concept called The Mist (or Myst or Mists, et al), an agreed upon unifying element that actually hides (or can hide) Rosehaven from the rest of Our Second Lyfe for protection (if needed). But like all powerful agents, The Mist has a darker side. Princess Selena herself is a product of The Mist, having shown up at her aunt’s door out of the blue in 2012, a physical manifestation of its trickster aspect, it seems.*
And so now, as a land owner in Rosehaven, I’ve had dealings with the real Princess. Dare I tell her of my fake ruler: Princess Merry Gouldbusk? And then there’s Ingo, her fake big brother who also rules after the death of their mother and father, the King and Queen (also fake).
Then there’s the curious, little detail of a storyline by Merri(Kat) in the official Rosehaven chronicles. Interesting wormholes here, with more to be found I’m guessing. How far have the wayward fingers of The Mist penetrated? All the way to… Earth?
By this I mean *The Mist* is a trickster at times, *not* Princess Selena, who seems to be a decent and wholesome elven type being all around from what I’ve read and heard! Direct quote from the blog post on her origins, then. Serra Anansi, her mother, is the speaker:
A baby in a basket?! The Mist?! And then I suddenly remembered making an off-handed joke at Mr. Drinkwater’s rez day party about having a baby. I do like to see him sweat and try to be diplomatic about such outlandish things and you know how wonderful he is at finding the most ingenious ways to divert the conversation to more proper topics.
I ran to the window, still able to see the very last fingers of The Mist evaporating on the horizon and I called out to it “I WAS KIDDING!!!!”
Herbert Gold sat at the terminus of West End Road just before dawn and started his first painting ever, simply entitled “Gold”. Afterwards he gets the strong sense of being boxed in again and realizes he has to end it with April Mae. Wife #4 on the way. He has an inclination to go with a redhead this time. Younger. Red. We’ll see what happens.
This statue commemorates the discovery of sculpted prims in ’06. Found in the prim mines of Heterocera, sculpted prims were immediately recognized as a new category of prim that would change the face of Second Life forever. This statue is dedicated to the brave Moles who delved into the pixelated crust of Heterocera Atoll in order to bring forth these valuable prims.
“I was just there watching the red and green grasses wave back and forth with the fairy, thinking: love is the answer, but what is this question we all must ask.”
“Kind of going beyond John Lennon in that way.” Kevin C. (or was it E.?) expressed puzzlement. “Like in the ‘Mind Games’ song, the flip side of the better known ‘Meat City’, admittedly, but still fairly well known. Here, let me hum a few bars.” He proceeds to do so, then mouths the appropriate lyrics. “‘Love – is – the answer. And you know that – for sure.’ See, he never sings about the question.”
“So — are you going to let me stay? Knowing what you know?”
“That you’re not gay, yes. Alright. But we’ll have to put you in the Northeast Quadrant, behind the art gallery. The old Coutts residence. Old codger is more like it. Straight as a porcupine quill he was. I should know.”
But when Kevin A. (A. — that was it) arrived at his new home in the Northeast Quadrant of Regaltown, someone was already there. Not old but young. Space Ghost, with all his powers returned. Ability to turn invisible. Er, ability to do this and that and the other stuff. Not pointing out imaginary green squirrels with his cane any longer. Kevin A. would have a male roommate after all. And wife Grammy was no longer around, since this was the past. Her vortex powers made sure of that.
Young Space Ghost takes one look at Kevin A., then says, “No gays in this quadrant. Who sent you? Arnold? Tell Arnold he can go to hell. Or back to Sweetgrass, where he came from. Americans.” Young Space Ghost spat on the ground with this.
“Yeah, we’ll hang out here for a while, Big Wanda, while everything cools down from the gig.
Middle of the continent. Middle of nowhere.”
“I need some weed,” Big Wanda groused to crime partner Ann Lee Oakey. “Fast.”
“No problem here.”
Paranoid Penny glanced down the path from whence they came. “Did anybody follow you here? Did anyone see you coming?”
“Nah. This is free, right?”