Category Archives: 01

December 5, 2017 · 4:55 am

Clemscott

Pitch Darkly teleports into the centre of Clemscott. As he knew from previous visits, the owner of the sim had marked the spot with a grassy, oval lozenge. This Clem fellow. Clem Scott maybe. Smart like a Fox.

Merlin’s Mound dead ahead, as Pitch has dubbed it. Grassy green like the central object he stands upon. Extension?

What, if anything, is buried within?

This is a grassy avenue just beyond that interests Pitch greatly for reasons I won’t go into just yet.

The avenue extends along the north side of… well I’m just going to let the pictures basically tell the story.

According to these signs adorning the surrounding square shaped wall in all 4 of its corners, the fenced-in region of approx. 1024 meters (32 x 32 meters) holds what are apparently experimental building projects, with apologies given for the involved dust. You can actually buy the wall and attached signs for 50 lindens. Pitch is tempted…


Walled region.


Viewing platform?


Banana and apple.

Once again, Pitch realizes he’s not going to be able to figure it out tonight. He must move on. But not before noting this 32 meters long “measuring rod” extending well below the surface here. 32 meters is also the length of each side of the walled compound.


Walled region and “Merlin’s Mound”.

Pitch decides to quench his parched throat at a neighboring bar before continuing. “Bucket of blood,” he requests to the familiar bartender. “No nails.”

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December 4, 2017 · 5:31 am

spots

Meanwhile, the upper 2/3rds of *Story Room*, so to speak — Pretty Man and Earie/Chuck — had decided to splurge on an early Christmas present and vacation in luxurious Comfrey on the Gaeta continent, noted for its staged environments. But those names are misnomers at this point, as Wheeler Wilson had fully changed back into a woman now after leaving the role of Pretty Man behind in Gaston, while The Musician had similarly set aside his desire to play female Chuck Cheese in addition to male Earie. So we’ve got a sort of reset for these two back to VHC City days from earlier in 2017. And I suppose that may mean they’re actually not the top 2/3rds of Story Room any longer either. Shoot.

The vacation literally got off on the wrong foot when Wheeler slipped on an icy spot while stepping out of the unicorn drawn carriage which brought them to their lodgings.

But luckily the fall only hurt her pride. New-ish shoulder pet Sidechick Corea was okay too.


“Pheh.”

—–

Baker Bloch — er, Pitch Darkly also had new digs, albeit of a more modest variety. He stares out from his porch across the water toward Clemscott, owned by the creator of his beloved Mary. He’s also decided to return to a prime state. He will not give up on his dolls.

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December 3, 2017 · 9:57 am

middle and upper

She logged in then saw him squarely facing her directly up Old Cannon Road. Baker Blinker and Baker Bloch didn’t meet enough in Our Second Lyfe, I realized. I had them decide to share a perch meal at Perch together and catch up.

—–

“How’s Pitch doing? I heard he’s still trying to decide whether to buy a new Mary or not.”

Baker Bloch took another sip of his strong German beer before answering Baker Blinker, then instead said: “When did Perch get this beer on tap? I don’t remember it.”

“Oh I don’t know. I’m not here (in Collagesity) that much. So about Pitch…”

“Let me have a word with the garson.” He turns toward the center of the restaurant. “Garson!” he called and then snapped his fingers.

So rude, Baker Blinker thought.

—–

15 minutes later, their garson appears.

“He should have been here ages ago,” the male Baker continues complaining to the female Baker.

—–

I’ll just summarize what was discussed at this meeting between the two town owners. Pitch has not given up on getting back together with Mary, but sees her in a very different light now that he keeps visiting her creator’s home over in Clemscott and pokes around more. Such a bizarre place, Baker Bloch tells Baker Blinker. Pitch can’t figure it out. Then, of course, Baker Blinker herself wants to see, which I’ll get to in a little while. Karoz is growing weary of life in Chilbo now that his favorite coffee and sweets shop formerly located in the Stinna Biddle Gallery there has been derezzed. They may be moving back to Collagesity; Baker Bloch gets chills with this news. Rocky Racco has returned from the Gulf War and sealed up the sand castle portal occupying his lower floor by having Caucasian Tommy Brade toss the owl’s head ring into the Ichelus volcano, thereby destroying it and Brade both. He said he got the idea from a popular Middle Earth book. The only proper way into *Middle*town now, Baker Bloch explains to Baker Blinker, is through The Kidd. They both stare over at the upper 2/3rds of the Kidd Tower again with this.

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December 2, 2017 · 8:06 am

Return

The war over, Tronesisia pilots her Pink Baron back to Middletown to begin civilian life again. Her wheels touch down precisely on the 2 yellow rubber lines of Main Street just beyond Treasure Bay. Perfect 3 point landing.

But she hadn’t earned the moniker of flying ace for naught. 20 Frenchmen alone shot down! She returned a war hero, with all the accompanying accolades. She was a baroness now, due to marry Lord Bendington on the 25th (Christmas Day).

What about former lover Peter SoSo you may ask? Left behind in the ashes of battle bombs. Unable to extract himself from the high life in Hana Lei. Tronesisia desired more for her own life than just wobbling around stoned all the time. She desired accomplishments… medals. Badges signifying significance.

She strides powerfully into the skyscraper with her penthouse apartment. Surely soon to be renamed Baroness Towers, she thinks. Or some equivalent. “Hello, Ms. Tronesisia,” Bert the doorman says at the entrance. “Welcome back.” After she passes, he rushes into the work room to tell Timmy, Ben, and Wanisa to fetch her luggage out of the plane posthaste. Word spread fast through town. “Ms. Tronesisia is back, Ms. Tronesisia is back!” She was loved and feared by the citizens of Middletown.

“Ahh, good to be home!” she exclaims on her patio while sipping strong German beer and looking out across the sea. Soon she would be surrounded by royalty. She imagines them sitting all around her now, talking of her war glories and helping her take steps to make sure her celebrity status pays dividends in the marketplace of what surely will be a post-war boom.

Finished with her beer, she heads inside to retrieve another from the top-of-the-line Italian refrigerator. She pauses at a certain point, sensing something different… new.

Tronesisia doesn’t see the bottom 1/3rd of the Kidd Tower just below her this particular night. Billie Jean Kidd had been unsuccessful so far in bringing the remaining 2/3rds to Middletown to make it clearly visible from this window of the penthouse apartment. But soon she would. And then Tronesisia’s dreams of life as a post-war baroness would all melt away.

She would remember who she was, at the core.

“At the core,” Billie Jean Kidd echoes down below.

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October 9, 2017 · 8:53 am

Morrison

“You’re back Clyde.”

“Yes, Richard,” answers the pink lady-elephant. “But it’s Bonnie.”

“Where’s Gregg?” asks Richard.

“You mean Stan? He said he was on his way. What are you guys up to tonight?”

“Nothing. Heard you got a new band Clyde.”

Bonnie shakes her head. “*Howard* has a new band. That’s my twin brother. They call themselves Leona, yes. Just rehearsing so far, I’ve heard.”

“Blackstars,” says Ziffie the smaller pink elephant on the bar stool to Richard’s left.

“What was that?” Richard asks down to him.

“The name of the band,” Ziffie explains, “is now Blackstars. I think it’s a David Bowie tribute band, but Garson sued and put them in their place.”

“Who’s Garson?” asked the man in the scary rabbit costume.

“Former Bowie keyboardist. ‘Alladin Sane’, ‘Outside’… list goes on.”

“But mainly ‘Alladin Sane’,” pipes up Ziffie again.

“Yes,” agrees Bonnie. “More the (title) song and not the album.”

“Improvisor,” inserts Ziffie.

“Right you are, cousin. Three time’s the charm.”

Stan comes strolling into the cafe.

“What’s up homies?”

“Blackstars,” says Bonnie.

“Blackstars,” Ziffie quickly follows.

Bonnie and Ziffie stare at Richard, pressuring him. He relents. “Hmmm. Blackstars I suppose.”

“Cool. Let’s you and me, Richard, go see the new crop of dead people over at Pervimus’ Gathering Bar.”

Instead of answering, Richard goes up and smells Stan. “That a new perfume, honey?”

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October 8, 2017 · 9:54 am

Pretty Man

Basically like clockwork, Earie passes Jiff’s abode a couple minutes beyond total darkness. 7:30 tonight, but winter is coming and the days are getting shorter. Tomorrow he should pass at approximately 7:29, the next day 7:28, and so on until time turns around or he leaves the sim. One day Jiff will follow the punk to see where he goes, but right now he needs to get some sleep. Jiff’s usually in bed by about 8 and rises around 6. Sometimes he even sees Earie pass the other way. Then it’s off to work at the Gaston-Berry Police Station as staff psychiatrist. A new and troubled male inmate has just arrived who goes by the name of Wilson. Pretty face, though. Maybe that’s the screw’s turn, Jiff ponders, knowing other information. Maybe this town demands too much from its citizens.

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October 8, 2017 · 8:20 am

st>rs

After The Blackstars’ latest jam session, lead singer Improvio and drummer Woody Woodmanson hung back in the sky island to chat about the band’s future. Howard, Pretty Man, and Sheriff had all headed to the Ear Bar down in Soho.

“Well Woody,” began Improvio. “You said you had something to talk about. I think it went pretty well tonight. Band’s pretty tight. I had worries about Pretty Man especially but it’s all shaping up. Pretty Man’s not just another pretty face but has real talent at the keyboards.”

“*Howard* was on the keyboards tonight. Not Pretty Man. You need to turn around and acknowledge the band now and then.” Woody was in an unusually pissy mood tonight. The rehearsal didn’t go as well for him as it did for Improvio.

The blue lead singer tried to assuage his wood toy drummer. He changed the subject for a moment. “Tell you what, why don’t you take me down to the center of the Purden Woods tonight and show me this Core-Alena tree you’ve been on about. How about that?”

But Woody would not be deterred. “Here’s my thing,” he said, continuing the mood. “Sure we can jam and jam and jam until we toast ourselves to death. But it’s all spinning wheels and slinging mud. Nothing’s *written down*. Jam, jam, jam,” he said again. “We need…”

“No,” broke off Improvio. “I’m not going back to Gaston and interact with those other two.”

Woody stopped walking on the log and hopped off, holding his brightening key in front of him.

“I’m getting a message from the Great Cheese,” he spoke solemnly. There was a small pause, then: “Yes, you must return to Gaston. But it’s not Gaston, it’s *Garson*.”

“What?” exclaimed Improvio, as he turned to see what Woody was transfixed by. A large, bald man with queerly tilted head had appeared on the edge of the sky island.

He steps further…

“Alright I’ll go back Woody,” proclaims a totally spooked Improvio.

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October 7, 2017 · 2:40 pm

Centre

The at least part alien Baker Bloch disguised himself as an apple tree before teleporting into the very center of the Gaston sim.

Just like Earie/The Musician indicated to him. The sim’s so-called Central Park is not a name be taken lightly.

And whoever sleeps in this Wastelands Bed next to it holds great power.

Baker then decides to teleport over to the site of Leona’s rehearsal last night. Or are they called The Blackstars? Anyway, another sky island…

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October 7, 2017 · 8:48 am

blackstars

It’s time for Improvio to strike out on his own.

Hana Lei…

… and Leona too.

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October 7, 2017 · 6:55 am

decibels smecibels

Rocky closes up the market and bar tonight and steps outside to look in the direction of the Wanderlust Art Truck. It’s received quite good press in various blogs and other social media outlets,* and the raccoon is certainly glad of the extra business his store has gotten as a result.


Thanks Levi!

He’s saving up quite the nest egg. But as the old saying goes, winter is coming, and the tourists will trickle down and eventually go away as the snow lays thick on the streets of Olde Lapara Towne. He’s frankly tired of cold winters. Peter, Paul and Mary — I mean, Lamb — were smart to retreat down into the much more temperature regulated underground and create Malone Central, he thinks. But that’s disappeared too apparently, as everyone has gone through the sand dunes/sand castle portal into this mythical land of Hana Lei. He thinks here of a particular collage in Baker Bloch’s small art gallery upstairs featuring David Bowie.


“Twisted”

Rocky decides to go back into the store to check again, just to make sure. He passes through the phantom red door into Audrey’s and takes the old timey teleporter to Grasslands. He always seems to bring his gun with him when comes down here lately.

Yes, he remembers now. The last remaining, actual grass of Grasslands, along with the sand dunes portal, had to go away to make prim room for the upstairs art gallery. And local punk band Story Room lost their remaining OLT venue since the theatre space formerly there was also eradicated, and this just after they were banned from playing at Clownski’s after a new noise ordinance was passed by the town council. Our two local bands, lost in a single stroke, he ponders. Rocky thinks of another old saying: Lamb dies with Ram. Baker Bloch tried to prevent it from happening by moving the future focus back into the here and now of the present. Yes, Rocky has his market, has a bar, has a small gallery even. Things are good in October. But even November can get snowy, and the anthropomorphic animal longs to see Santa Claus without Jack Frost always tagging along and nipping at his nose.

He’s not even going to think about how his new novel is coming, and the lack of sales for the old one. Because it’s target practice time once again!

—-

* See, for example, several of my friend Veyot’s recent posts from her “Veyot’s Views” tumblr site (tag = Lapara):

http://veyot.tumblr.com/tagged/Lapara

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