Pink observes yellow (and wants).
Category Archives: 01
00390117
The actual seance in Ruby’s Bellissaria home in Ashton Village, or “reading” as the invitation called it, was kind of anticlimactic to what just happened outside. Psychic Olive Olystick knew instantly upon seeing green clad Al and blue clad Sarah sit down opposite each other at the prepared table that they were destined for each other, *made* for each other in effect (manufactured). Groover filled in the needed 6th spot for absent, sick Cowboy, taking the “yellow” seat opposite Olive’s red. “We have our 6,” she said in the introduction, amended up from 4 to include mutual friends Gloria and Wanda from down on the beach. But Olive knew they didn’t really count. There was still only red, green, yellow and blue around the table. A true TILE, yes, modified for the moment. She had manufactured Groover as much as Al had manufactured Sarah, and visa versa as well. Round and round and round.
Al, of course, asked about Bart and the renegade treatises, both his and Lisa’s, although the boy’s higher channeling effort took top priority in his mind. The reason for him being here in the 1st place. Olive looked deep into her mind, produced an image of a cow that was also a human. “Someone lives on this continent who has your answers. Not the 2nd continent (of Bellissaria), not the 3rd, nor 4th, nor 5th. Here. Not far away to the north — Northern Hills, I’m seeing. Groover knows a person involved.” All eyes at the table turned to the Trojan-Durexian war vet, who just sat there was his mouth agape per usual, like he was as surprised about this information as anyone else. He wasn’t. “Grooover,” urged still-in-trance Olive, seeing that gleam in his eyes. “You *know* something. Spill.”
“This must be about Chet,” he replied in his goofy, high voice, knowing he couldn’t hide anything from Olive.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0117, Ashton Village, Bellisaria, Northern Hills
Ashton
As fate would have it, they met at the front door of the place. “After you,” Sarah spoke to green clad Al opposite her. “No, after *you*,” he returned, like the gentleman he is, unlike a certain other person in her life we won’t speak about just yet for fear of him show… oh darn. There he is. Straight from the beach and drunk off his tits.
“Ah, *there* you are, *hiccup* love of my liffe, appfle of *burrp* myyyy…” He falls down. Sarah doesn’t move toward him to help. Al picks up on the worst. She turns toward the sober man here again. “Let’s go inside together,” and she holds his hand while they walk within. She feels warm, Al thinks. She feels… good.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0116, Ashton Village, Bellisaria
Village
She manifested two pills in her mouth and swallowed, one red and one blue. That way her size stayed the same. Phyllis began to speak.
“Red yellow green blue. NO purple. NO orange. NO nothing else. We have our 4. I am Phyllis. Let’s begin.”
This was a test run with her old pal and sometimes comfy pillow Groover but she was taking it very seriously. She wanted to make sure she hadn’t forgotten how to do this, and that Phyllis would still come through clear and strong. Strong enough to answer questions. Ruby had taught her well.
Meanwhile, just next door…
“Tarnation, woman. You’re not really thinking about *going* to this thing, are you?”
“You can come too,” she offered only 1/2 heartedly at best. She could also feel the future, telling it didn’t include her Cowboy, the thought-to-be love of her life. But that was long ago. Before the 1st lassoing.
“I’ll hogtie you I will,” he continued in that fashion. “I’ll *make* you stay one way or another.”
“I’m going,” she said firmly from the couch that was the same color as her dress. She was one with it. Cowboy had to get up and leave. “Well then tarnation galdarnit I am too!” he said in a huff before slamming the front door, intending to head to the beach for a Blue William or three or five. Boat Bar’s Gloria and Wanda would listen to him there, especially Wanda. But that would give him a lot of trouble later, perhaps the final nail in the coffin that had become their relationship.
“I wish Sarah was as good a listener as you… Wanda.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0115, Ashton Village, Bellisaria
Happy 4th!
A letter was slid under the door while he was watching TV with the dogs. *Squirrel!*, they all thought as one passed by on the highlighted limb, all tails at alert for a moment. Al might take it for a sign but a squirrel was entering the picture every 10 seconds or so. Too frequent to be useful for synchronicity studies. He moves toward the door, picks up the envelope on the floor. Addressed to Resident. Well, *he’s* a resident of the Homeless Union. At least currently: day to day, night to night he’s taking it. Not meeting anyone here since Groover passed through a couple of days back, another “traveler”, he picks up and opens the thing. “Madame Ruby: Psychic ” he reads aloud, perhaps to the dogs but most likely only to himself. “Hmm,” he says while spotting the meat of the missive beneath the card with the 3rd eye underneath the lettering.
—–
Just down the block, Sarah reads her own slid-under-the-door invitation aloud and then her beau/husband reacts. “Tarnation, woman. A *reading*?! What the blue william is a *reading*!?”
—–
He was talking to Gloria and Wanda a little later who came up from the beach for a visit when the door opened and she walked right in, instantly making herself at home on the remaining seat in the room. “Is Groover here yet?” she uttered. Then: “I usually sleep on the car couch. Where’s the car couch? Did they move it upstairs? Is Groover upstairs? Taking a leak? He’s always taking a leak. Must come with being so blue and all. Vet of the Trojan-Durexian War he is. Never takes off his helmet.” She stops with this, perhaps to catch her breath. Al stares over, thinking: so this is the infamous Olive Olystick Groover mentioned, seeing the scowl, feeling the powerful psychic presence all the way over from his own seat. Gloria and Wanda stopped chatting, as if frozen in place. Olive was only talking to Al. They had a mutual friend.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0114, Ashton Village, Bellisaria
00390113
He listened over as best he could while pretending to stare at the pickle holding couple in front of him. Was this a gay couple instead? He’d just been with his own “chum” (as they were talking about), but that was different. A 3rd was involved. How about here?
Ant-man, he heard. Man of Ant. And the other: one of Sand; Sandman. Like one pickle is sandy colored and one pickle is the more normal green colored. Combine them and you have a green, sandy mess. He gathered all this from their talk. The Pickles, 01 and 02, were like themselves. But something had happened, something had gone wrong. They *contemplated* a gay relationship, or at least the Sandman did. He talked about different tongues…
—–
As kind of planned, he was now under the bone at the entrance to the Verdant Falls Dog Park, the exact same coordinates on Pickle 02 as the Squishy Pickle bench he’d just been on was for Pickle 01. He spotted a couple sitting on the exact same kind of bench, even down to the green and blue pillows. A merger had failed because of something that had happened before with Ant-man and Sandman. The Mann had separated from Ant, and was now interacting with Wo-mann.
“Come on boy!” he heard The Mann call. “And… boy!”
But there was only one dog from Edward’s angle. More mergers. We can move on.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0113, Bellisaria, Pickle 01, Pickle 02
Permaglow
She went back the next day to meet him. She knew to sit far apart and she also wore a mask for extra protection. Many said he didn’t exist but she knew better. She felt the chills of reality pass through her almost daily.
“I can’t… stop glowing,” he said to her across the patio holding the 3 Meter Monument. “I *can’t*… stop *glowing*.”
But what to do for him? Marg was dead. Homer had lost his head. Lisa, yes. She must contact the sister, the author of the other, lesser treatise on the controversial “perhaps sentence”. Not the channeler/psychic Bart was but still the only hope, she knew. And, chance has it, they had a mutual friend, even though she still didn’t know that fact.
Back home:
“Tarnation, woman! TV dinners again?! Where you been all day girl!?” She, of course, couldn’t tell him, except that she’d been walking per usual. Cowboys never see the other side. “I’m going to stake you down with a rope,” he warned. “Just like a big, fat cow I am.” He was close to her face now, rage in his eyes, nose, mouth, everything. Her window of opportunity to help the boy was closing. She’d need allies, at least one. And he was very close as fortune would have it. Now to somehow bring them together, hmm.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0112, Ashton Village, Bellisaria, Pennsylvania, Pickle 02
eleven
“… closed for installation,” she reads just outside the property lines. And she was so looking forward to viewing art in one of the few “original” Bellissaria galleries left. She checks parcel details. Owned by Emerald, an alt of Diamond, so still the same as before. The avatar also owns property in Blung, oddly enough, which could be a past verb of bling if it were such, as in jewelry, as in, often, diamonds. You have to pay attention to synchy stuff like this, especially in synch friendly Our Second Lyfe. She remembers first visiting this gallery in July 2019 when it was presenting an exhibition celebrating the 50th Anniversary of Apollo 11’s moon landing.
https://modemworld.me/2019/07/16/celebrating-apollo-11-in-second-life-and-sansar/
Prism decides to explore around the area a bit since she’s here, hating to waste such a long trip, and automatically heads toward the mountains instead of the coast, as is her wont. Let’s follow her there…
Cool! she thinks, going further in and up. Bucolic!
Winding around, she doesn’t want to go back to pavement and thus turns right on this ridge that eventually leads her to a mountain where a man called Tom. We’ve been here before.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0111, Bellisaria, Western Hills
00390110
She had walked much further today than normal, all the way to Permaglow on Pickle 02 to see the famous 3 eyed fish.
And then she spotted the forgotten nuclear fuel rods at the bottom of it all, obvious source of this aberration. Springfeld came to mind, the home of the boy. Stuff of legends. Also: skateboarder from Tull, but last she heard he was surfing.
After counting them, one two three, same as the eyes, same as the rods, she felt a chill pass through her and looked around. She’d felt this before. Something had happened. Parallel world.
Later, when she returned home and was hanging out the wash, she just missed him passing by on the street on his way back to the Homeless Union, mission in the western mountains scuttled, at least for now. Both had information the other needed. And much much more.
But first there was the little matter of Cowboy. “Are my chaps dry yet!?” he called from the house. “I need my chaps! Woman.”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0110, Ashton Village, Bellisaria, Pickle 02, Springfeld
00390109
At the first mountain pond, low but discernible as such, he spotted one of those famous angle fish he’d heard about. But angle only mirrors angle as it turns out, as in the corner of the sim of Carumba just beyond where it meets up with Tickle Ridge, Beaver Lagoon, and Westvale. With his lower draw to reduce lag, Al could only see flatter ground from here on up. What was there to skirt? It all seemed like a trap. He rang up Tom again.
“Get out, abort,” came the suggestion, nay, order from his superior being. “We’ll start again in this direction soon. Regroup at the Bellissaria Homeless Union. There are other people there, I’m sensing now, that you need to interact with. Try to find the turtle for real this time. Maybe even Bart,” even though Tom knew this would be more illusive and the equivalent of finding the goose that laid the golden egg. Could he, can he? There was a reason the ridge dwindled to nothing past Cowabunga. Tom didn’t remember that. Space and perhaps time were being altered.
Never mind that Al was wrong and that the ridge continued a little west of where he was looking, low but discernible again if you remove the hiding trees from his angle. Fate dictated he return to the coast. And he forgot to take care of procuring that stick, which he took as an omen too.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0109, Bellisaria, Western Hills
Sunklands 