Category Archives: 0205

County Park again

As reported earlier, found this little 8″ or so f-er 4/5ths the way up a local 750 foot mountain about a week and a 1/2 back and thought: someone made quite the effort to get this gnome here and perch it for all to see on this rock visible from a primarily biking trail. Went back today specifically for a revisit and, after quite a search, found him instead peering at me from behind a tree across the trail from the rock. Funny thing: that mote or speck of dirt in his eye formerly seen…

… was now gone. I could almost hear him laughing.

Gnomes, pheh; bastards know too much.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0205, Blue Mountain, County Park

00330205

Some say he looked like Jimmy Stewart, sitting behind his desk with the guns in back as they entered. But they were just for show: R.V. never toted a pistol himself. He believed in the basic decency of man, and that issues, however dire on the surface, can be reasoned through and ended without mayhem or bloodshed. Perhaps his reward for this positive viewpoint was the finding of Helen, our Mayan Marauder, our Publius Enigma, close to public nudity but not quite there, not quite breaking the law either, then, despite the continuing opinion of deputy Andy. “We agree to disagree about the matter,” he settled the matter with his sidekick, his buffoonish underling who *always* carried a gun albeit one without bullets. Sheriff R.V. saw to that.

Skeleton outside and perched vulture — just another show, mainly for the tourists to this here retro town of One Pink, also known as Lips, or that’s what the post office wants to retain as the official name. But the dispute, some say, is just part of the antique feel of the village, as things often happened like that in the Wild West of olden days, often settled — again — with mayhem and bloodshed before a single name could be selected. If a settlement wanted to call itself Bradshaw and others disputed it, just kill off all the ones who want Bradshaw. Sheriff R.V. is versed in the olden ways; he’s a student of law enforcement in the past. He studies to *escape* it, though, unlike some who want a return to the wildness, the wilderness.

Aunt Beatrice is about to get out of church, and R.V. needs to pick her up since she doesn’t like walking home in the sun. Ruins her complexion, she says about our nearest star; a flaming ball of poop, she sometimes calls it, especially when a new wrinkle develops on her 60-ish skin. No one really knows her age, and all that use to are dead, some say: killed — by Beatrice herself in her extreme vanity. Sheriff R.V., an actual nephew and not just a namesake one, knows differently. “That’s just her rough exterior,” he defends to others. “She fights the elements all around her, people, place, things. *Circumstances.* But inside, deep inside — somewhere — there’s a decent, wholesome person that loves the world, that loves her relatives — the few that remain — and, above all — and I think this is very important even though we don’t share the same faith — loves God.”

The police department’s steam carriage stalls out on the railroad tracks. Looks like R.V. is in a heap of trouble again, especially since Beatrice will have to walk about 100 feet from the front door of the church in the scorching sun to get here. R.V. figures he might actually need a loaded gun this afternoon to fend her off.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0205, ENIGMA, Nautilus, North, Wild West

putting the hat back on

She was back on the beach taking over the responsibility of reading *his* book while Allen floated in the sea a bit. Yellow floatie — instant attractor; which then placed similarly yellow Jennifer on his former beach towel. Archibald was not needed no longer since she had absorbed all he had to offer. She bid him well, departing with, “have fun with yourself,” knowing he already loved her a bit too. She had that effect, with the eyes and all, 9 to 10 legs, etc., etc. Perfection, she says to herself, not being boastful but just honest, she thought.

She wondered how chapter 1 could be in the almost exact middle of the book but there it was.

She read about a happily married couple who happened to be nudists and were about to join a related swingers club but for good, noble reasons and not the usual ones. They were trying to solve a crime, a murder, puzzle pieces still being arranged and put together. They then stare at red.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0205, Alien Island, Bay City/Nova Albion^, Nautilus, Sansara, Wild West

00310205

These SILHOUETTES, foreground leaves in retrospect, are *directly* west of dancing Hucka Doobie and Axis in 00310117. They also seem to be “dancing” on a corner of Monroe. Compare.

Despite the leafy origins, I’ve decided it is not coincidence and instead a channeling event, call me crazy (“You’re crazy!”).

Conclusion: we never left the red car. Let’s see what the two are up to currently.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0205, Bay City/Nova Albion^, Iowa, Sansara

lines

The Sun and Moon seem to be moving very fast in this town.

“I thought I’d come talk to you first, Marilyn, clarify some stuff about your angle in this, ahem, evolving story. We have bigots in town, we have zombies, probably all wearing spiked or non-spiked helmets. Like that policeman who keeps eyeing me all around town.”

She wanted to say Tank but held back. And Bazooka — Bazooka was his dad, and, as former captain of the force back in the good ol’ days, the one who wore the spiked helmet. Tank: just a bright blue cap. Put him in the bigot category.

Then she remembered the slip of paper in her jeans pocket, the one she was suppose to pull out in case she got stuck. She pulled, she read. “Moms, don’t let your boys grow up to be Dimmy Jean.”

Silence. Was that helpful? she pondered, staring into his watery eyes. Was he… crying?

—–

Dimmy wipes the counter down nervously, thinking that 1/2 the people in the room are watching him and half aren’t. But he doesn’t know which. He tries to determine friend from foe through the caps and helmets but all the lines get blurred together. He’s lost it. He needs to go home but he doesn’t even know where that is any more. Home is here I suppose, he says to himself. He pours two shots of Jack Daniels, one for the raccoon man and one for himself. “Here’s to home,” he proclaims while raising his glass, resigned to the fact. Over in one gulp, he pours another while 1/2 the room still eyes him.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0205, Jeogeot, Sunklands^

the planet’s 3rd eye

“I recall now. I am your hairy… neighbor. To the North. Remember? Like Canada. Some called us friends. Like me. Remember? Not Arthur but me. We were sent here (to Mythos) together.”

I recalled. There was lots of pain in his direction, more than mine. The US of our A had it easier. A single child (functionally). A loving *father*. “You didn’t know,” he wanted to say to me now. “You were involved… in your own world.” I couldn’t argue. At least he didn’t declare war on me, like Cofmo. Ants, mechanical ants. My grasshoppers never had a chance. June bugs bombed but all were underground.

I know why my artist friend from Our Second Lyfe was named that. For this.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0205, Horns of Hatton^, Maebaleia/Satori

oversized

Kolya wondered about the plane, and that the bird is a plane. He takes another sip of stale lemonade on top of his birdbath, wishing he could meet up with that magical turtle again — Meanie, he thought — to get a fresh one.

“Yelloo!” still knife challenged Lemon said in greeting upon entering the scene. “Welcome!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0205, Nautilus, North, Upper Austra^

rolling with a number

Ahh, just as I suspected. An early form of The Rolling Joints controlled by Jon Deere, their *manager*. I wanted to say, “Hi George,” but I didn’t want to interrupt their playing. I could still hear the green clad Sheriff strumming along to the same, partially improvised tune “(“4:20”) in the distance; just around the corner. But (she thinks while staring into the bakery), it seems I am already here…

He dare not turn around to see that schweet secret smile. He must remain a baker dedicated to his craft.

Almost ready.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0205, Metropolis, Nautilus, Upper Austra^

holey man

“Brain Damage he had.”

“We’ve already determined that, okay,” she replied, planning her escape route. Starbucks should be open by now — 5:00. But Baker is trying so hard to understand. The 2 is impossibly in front of the boy-man, right where the brain was…

“Have him interact with someone in this specific location, so close to Collagesity. Alysha, perhaps. She hadn’t been in a post in a while.”

“Only if,” she compromised, “Kolya goes back to the airport and finds out more about the red book and the accompanying red light.”

“Deal.” He spits in his hand, which she naturally doesn’t shake. Such a goofy person (!).

—–

“See there? Mysten Underhill and Mysten, let’s see, can’t recall the other one. Anyway, those *2* squares, just there. Down toward the lower right corner; right in front of you, in fact. Do you see the houses? Of course you do. I rented one of those, or attempted to. And *Spongeberg*, yes, was there. I recall the number… 144. Table. We tried to set a table up. Didn’t quite work.”

Alysha let Kolya ramble on. He was a true friend and would do anything for her. He was attempting to explain the past of Mysten not far atall north of Collagesity through this old sim map they’d stumbled upon. He’d been here a long time. But so had she, just not as long.

“We owned just to the east,” he continued, remembering more and more about “2”. “But not in Siliconicus: that would be *southeast*. But the *Church* of the Silicon Soul was set up right on the border again. Right beside our own property.”

“The Table House.”

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “That was what it was called (!).” He paused, joyful in the memory. He could see vague faces around it.

—–

They had to go back in the past. And they could (!). Except only the darker side, the place of fumbles and bumbles. Spongeberg the Destroyer was still here, still lived in the general Collagesity area, but just more down in the east, beside Highway 14. He’d given up on 13 — moved on. The darkness beckoned. Christ and accompanying Christianity was not around to brighten the day any longer.


Mysten Underhill, 2015

—–

They both took another big lick of their triple scoop sorbet cones before continuing.

“Funny about places like this, Ayesha,” Kolya then said with cold mouth.

Alysha, she thought without correcting aloud, use to such things.

“Like they are stuck in time. Harder… more resistant to the general erosion… um.”

“… of Our Second Lyfe,” she finished for him.

“The 2, yeah.”

She looked at the top of his holey head, where the rain gets in. Simultaneously he recalls someone at the Table, as if they are linked by one user (they were). But he passes over the memory of Marty as if it were a letter gap. On to the next thought-color, green I believe.

Kolya realizes that was a lot of ice cream for a little girl. Because he could definitely finish it for her. “Are you done with that?” he couldn’t help asking while staring at the stack of mostly unlicked colorful balls in the cone in her hand. He was eager for more brain freeze.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0205, collages 2d, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Omega^^, Wallytown/Fishers Island^

Astronaut AB

Baker Bloch was not totally gone. He came back to help me with the Okinu glyphs. He was there after all, although he said it seemed a lifetime ago. “Pre-Hucka Doobie,” he offered while sitting across from me in the Table Room of the Blue Feather building, my home now in the heart of rebuilt Collagesity. “Explain Uniko,” I requested after hearing him talk about things not really relevant to the current plot for a while. That’s okay — he’s a lot more disconnected to the blog these days, so: understandable. I then listened with rapt attention.

15 minutes later I had most of the story. Okinu had been made over since the glyph days, with no glyphs found now. Maybe this was part of a cover-up, he speculated. He also theorized that the energy which created the glyphs in the first place was still present, and that led to the discussion of the archipelago shaped like the number 2. (Stands for) Our Second Lyfe obviously, but there was more.

—–

The new, remade over Okinu sim had a default landing spot now on an island which lies partly in its northwest corner, the largest in said archipelago. In olden days, the sim was only water with no land atall. Certainly this upshoot was a mysterious island (Mystery Island, but part of the Misery Islands?), and one which contained yet another golden machine. I couldn’t help but make an instant connection. Here was Icarus, the rocket ship that would take me to not Mars, but someplace else. Somewhere inferior.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0205, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Sansara