Category Archives: 0203

00500203 (seven = silver)

“I think it’s painfully obvious that I’m Noodle in this scenario,” lead singer Shelley Johnston Struthers spoke over to band manager Biff Wendell Carter, out on a break from rehearsing, their third of the night. Lots of STOPS and GOS for this one, like in a heated game of Mille Bornes. Trouble. Friction. Inertia. No one could even decide which band members were present or not. Sometimes Sherwood was a kid and other times a fully functional adult, albeit a brilliant drummer at whatever age he appeared. Things were in FLUX.

“Okay, I agree,” said Biff, thinking of all the changes and shifts and sputterings too. “We’ll make that another concrete truth of the blog and attached photo-novel,” he said, but, again, that’s probably me talking through him. So let’s leave out that sentence and say Biff merely agrees with Shelley on her statement. She is Noodle. She’s also Pink tonight. He approves of both. Then he brings up a subject he knew he shouldn’t broach.

“Listen, Shelley. I’ve been doing some research. Staying a classical, so-called non-mesh avatar is fine. But it seems people who choose to follow that path with their outward appearance at least get new and improved mesh hands and feet. I wouldn’t touch the head, though.” He looks over at her head, thinks of the smile (not currently present upon it, though), that beautiful innocence. No, leave the head for sure.

Shelley looks down at her extremities.” I’m not changing *anything*.” She was stubborn about remaining classical. She also likes classical vegetation, builds. Helps reduce lag. What’s not to like? She’s been around long enough to remember the good old days and the excitement of Our Second Lyfe when it was relatively fresh and new… and *non-mesh*. That excitement is still there but in pockets instead of an overall vibe. You have to dig a bit more these days.

“I *do* like the pink,” says Biff, trying to smooth over his mistake. We can build up from that, he thinks. Whatever happens, I’m *not* going back to the restaurant business. TBC

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0203, Jeogeot, Rodentia 02

00490203 (bottoms)

I was standing on the lip of a big hole, staring down, naked except for a single rose.

A woman, also naked but with a bit more protection, 2 bits more but white roses not red, was way way down at the bottom, sitting on what appeared to be a pier by a pool.

But that wasn’t the end of it. She was also peering down, into the waters of a 2nd hole. Deeper, deeper… a ship far below her even. Sunk 100s of years ago, maybe 1000s of years ago. The Sinking Ship it was called even *before* the accident.

She jumps, I jump. More passages to come (TBC).

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0203, Haven, Weird-o Islands+

00480203

Turns out there was a Locust Street here in Fieldon and then another Locust St. in Fidelity, its opposite on the Illinois circle pictured in that last post. The only shared street name between the two small towns. When I “beamed down” through Google Street View to the north end of the latter, I immediately found this.

Was it as easy as that? Yellow Guy referenced, who was born and raised in this very state? I traced the internet company’s origins back to O’Fallon a little over an hour’s drive away. Nothing to do with my old friend. But still the, aherm, *connection* seemed pertinent.

Another of these promo signs off Locust St., Fidelity style.


I decided to recheck Locust St., Fieldon in Google Street View to see if I could spot any additional oddities cropping up since my last scan several years back, just like I’d tracked up and down its double in Fidelity today. Nothing really jumped out at me except this house which seemed to have turned 90 degrees between 2021 and 2024. Is this normal? I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason for doing this, right?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0048, 0203, Google Street View, Illinois

00470203 (the search for meaning (the flesh and the stone))

“I have a confession, Eddy, my Edward.”

He looked up at her from his bench position, his standard sitting place in their very tall, very narrow new New Island dwelling spot shaped like a ring. “Yes, dearest?”

“I went over to Fishers Island last night.”

“Umm… in your dreams?” Eddy asked of his lover, his *inventor* Shelley. Again the red haired version. Just to be someone different or try to be.

“Nah, in reality. I wanted to check out the location of the K2 lounge. The, ahem, *landlord* said it was gone now in the text accompanying her profile picks, along with the attached cafe. Yup — both gone as I checked.”

“But — you were here all night,” countered Eddy.  “You mean? … that period between supper and TV time, that hour?”

“Yup,” she said again. “And I was over there long enough to join some kind of academy. I think it was run by witches because they gave me this costume for free.” She quickly donned it. “Cool, huh!”

“Hazel, I mean, PHEH, *Shelley*, this is bad. Really bad.”

No, he thought, taking another gander. Not bad. He came up with another word: evil. Really evil.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0203, New Island, Wallytown/Fishers Island

00460203

“You’re remembering.”

—–

“Thanks! I was ready to move on.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0046, 0203, C2077, Heyworth

00450203 (doing The Flamingo)

Art is sort of a decentralized, collective thing. Like, art is kind of a conversation with all the artists that have ever lived before you. You know, like it’s like you’re really just sort of its — it’s not like anyone’s reinventing the wheel here. Like, you’re kind of just taking, you know, thousands of years of art and, like, running it through your own little algorithm and then, like, making your interpretation of it.

“Pyramid. Know anything about it?”

“Ground floor’s open to everyone, choom. Called The Heavy Hearts Club — more to that name than meets the eye, huh — never thought about it like that.” He shakes his head, then refocuses. “But those top floors: only VIPs, the gold plated ones, huh. The ones gifted – by – the – Goooodds. And sitting at the very top like a huge glinting eye… well, um *hum*. What, child of mine, do you know about the *Suun*?”

“I– dunno, choom. Tell me about it.” I glanced at the flamingo behind his head again, knew we were entering some deeper waters. Those long legs might come in handy after all.

“I mean, *huh*. Are you a true *believer*? Or are you just a pretender, a wannabe worshipper with his religious mofo diapers still on and sh-tting those mere mortal *brown* bricks. Not the yellow ones, the golden eggs. You have to sh-t the golden eggs to be the chosen. Otherwise, you’re a wor*shitter*, ha. See what I just did there? Okay, okay,” he admits. “Not my best one. But you better believe the other parts are true. There is a shining eye at the top, choom. A shining — eyyyyye. You look into it, you better damn well be one of those chosen ones, hmph. Or else,” and he extends two fingers and pokes at his own eyes to demonstrate. “He takes your *two* to make his *ONE*, *huh* — you know what I’m saying?”

I figured I’d gotten enough out of *this* one, obviously also blinded by his own ambition. Top notch runner in his day, he explained before, only to have his body reject the new cybernetics. Another casualty of Fiona’s School for the Gifted and the Damned, as he put it. Just like that Linda boxer across the way he also told me a story about. Typhoon Ronald indeed. Living inside a past glory, old memories drowning out the present. He can’t even see what’s right behind him.

“Welp,” I said, taking one last look at the neon pink flamingo then turning toward the pyramid. “Guess it’s time to head over and see for myself.”

“Gold – plated – *sh-t*,” he ended, shaking his head again and laughing and waving me off.

Start with the ground floor, yeah. Have conversations with everyone while working my way to the top. Become a little algorithmic of all that’s ever been. Gold plated.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0045, 0203, C2077, Doggtown

00440203 (mystery flesh pit)

https://www.reddit.com/r/Voicesofthevoid/comments/1en5q2b/wha_the_hell_is_this/?rdt=43388

Question: what the hell is this?

Best answer (right answer): that’s where the voices of the void come from

And here is where Our Second Lyfe begins outstripping this more modern game in importance. Because this hole… actually comes from that. A whole super city in the upper right central part of the Maebaleia continent of that virtual world is being built around the phenomenon. Lab coat wearing Dr. Kelp and her companion A. Pond look on.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0044, 0203, Maebaleia/Satori, VOTV, X-City

00430203

She sits in the dark and stares at TV static while thinking about the artist whose first name is Tennessee and the musician whose last name is Kentucky. Both “former,” it seems, as in dead, possibly even murdered. Maybe even… one and the same? Shelley phones up Edward to talk about it. Hubby Arthur is off acting again in a far away location. The boyfriend will have to do.

“Meet me at Sarah’s,” she requested. “Let’s walk around the town together.” She didn’t add, “then come back here,” but it was implied.

“Let’s make it Lexi’s,” altered Edward, knowing Sarah was quite the gossip.

“On my way, then.”

Contractually, she was required to wear the Crazy Blue outfit at all times now, no exceptions. Except one.

Later she studies the sappy “Abduct My Heart” lamp given to her by Arthur for her birthday before he left. She begins to cry.

What did she figure out? That Tennessee and Kentucky were indeed one beyond the Black Wall.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0043, 0203, C2077, HANA LEI, NIGHTSITY

St. Dennis

Here they come in the streetcar, he thinks. Finally arrived in the right place. Must make my presence known soon. But first…

… a little havoc while I wait, he he. Bark bark, bark!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0203, RDR2

crossfire

When they had finished with her hair, it had turned fiery gold again, with a corresponding change in clothes. Marsha “Pink” Krakow was back, baby.

Took a while to properly cool off, though. “Thanks guys!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0203, Cass City+, Maebaleia/Satori