“We have arrived too late.”
“Too late,” said the other, just as frustrated with him as he with her. One AM and one PM. But they couldn’t remember who said what. Thus the mutual blame game, which would spill over with the toys before bedtime. Because there was nothing left to do but sleep.
“Twelve hours you.”
“Twelve hours *you*”
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0038, 0210, Hana Lei^^
They’d prepared 2 nooses for “folding f-cks” Barry and Hucka down at the dining hall of the Grant Hotel, named after the president and not visa versa. But that’s when the choppers arrived from the north, disrupting everything as stated. Johnny Cage was hiding amongst them, blending in as best he could, speed included. Around Silver City, Nikki (that’s it: Nikki; not Penny, not Wanda) slowed down enough to ride alongside him for a while, enough to strike up a friendship, enough to open doors for the potential of more. By Lordsburg, Johnny had made up quite a number of scenarios in his head, all involving Nikki and marriage, some with babies, some not. In some they just ride and ride off into the proverbial sunset, the wind in their hair and the moon at their backs. Others they use to the top 5 gears of their 15 speed mountain bikes (which Nikki had bought in the meantime, ditching her motorized version) to climb the highest peaks of each of the 50 states, Florida and its puny 345 foot high Britton Hill included. “Well start with that,” he said in one version. “Just to get you acclimatized to mountain air, ha ha.” And then he laughed a bit in reality at his imagined joke. Nikki motoring to his side noticed. “What’s so funny, Johnny?” she asked, but before he could answer they were upon the sign. Shakespeare thata way, ghost town no more. The Void saw to that. He could feel it deep in his bones now, starting at his modified neck and working down. If he could just figure out a way to steal it outta here he’d be a rich rich man, set for life in whatever form it decides to take in his future. Babies? Sunsets? Mountains? One way to find out. They followed the choppers that managed to beat them down the now dusty road, beside the water tank with the town name emblazoned on its front.
As they passed, the LORD on it sank below the horizon with the rest, history come back to life.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0037, 0210, New Mexico
I occasionally stop by here, a house to the south of Chilbo on the Jeogeot continent, to check and see if my star is still there on the porch where I put it, oh, say about a year ago by this point. Owner of the house and attached property is a bigfoot researcher, like myself. 🙂 Guy named Snow. And the creator of the star is also a Snow — small world, or so they say. The first Snow is also co-owner of Roberts and Franklin Investigators in Towerboro on the same continent.
Has Robin Williams pic and quote in his profile, thus the decision to place the star here. Williams was a big fan of Firesign Theatre. And a couple of years back, in the sim of Moork, I found a small parcel owned by Uh Clem, a name derived from one on their “Bozos” album already mentioned in this photo-novel by Peter Ladd, nephew of Mr. Babyface. Tonight I found an Ahclem avatar in the same group as the person who owns the Ouroboros property seen in the last part of my last post here (and who has a Firesign Theatre quote in his profile). And, to remind, Shelley Struthers, an all important character now, extraordinarily so, is based on a Shelly I found in Our Second Lyfe who is also a big fan of Firesign Theatre (another one of their quotes in her profile; is, like myself, a member of the only Our Second Lyfe Firesign Theatre group I know of) and whose apartment she has owned for at least several years lies directly on the triple number of Hooktip, on the Head Line of the Heterocera continent. Keep in mind that we just found more oddities on the Heart Line, its matching diagonal from that particular continent. You can get a glimpse of what I’m working with, all the connections. It is, indeed, a Matrix.
But I believe I know what’s on top of the box now. And the bottom. Nautilus, my *home* continent now (not Jeogeot, not Heterocera) is at the bottom. Top is Reality: an approximately 10×10 mile square in the middle of Ringgold County in the south of Iowa. And then they begin to interpenetrate.
She/he went from the cross…
… to The Cross.
Page’s convincing portrayal of the “church lady” image of Aunt Esther was in marked contrast to the “blue” material of her stand-up act and record albums.
“What can I say, that’s my aunt.” “No it’s *not* (pause) Okay, yes it is. But…” “But what?”
Bluebird heads down the stream, intending to go further than she’s ever been before in this direction.
She reaches somewhere familiar but keeps on walking, spurred by the thrill of the unknown. Vanessa and Tiana had long gone from the back of the wagon, their unexpected and unrehearsed rendezvous complete. Return to Sugar Town for the 2. We’ll catch up with their continuing story soon.
Options present themselves. She again chooses what she deems the straightest path away from White Tree Village, her home now in virtual reality, thanks to Mistress, thanks to Venus. But she’s never seen or met her benefactors. That could change tonight, depending on the color of the script, white being the safest bet.
She gets twisted around. The sky suddenly turns dark. She’s at the Mattress Tree. And someone is waiting for her.
(to be continued)
“Miss Graham, Miss Graham,” Barry DeBoy interjected, raising his hand.
The teacher points to him with her chalk instead of circling the all important modifier on the blackboard, the center of it all.
D’Eddy, sleeping in a nearby cardboard box and overhearing some of it at the end of his dream, wakes up. What started with his hands now extends over his whole body. He is fully black now. He looks at his hands, his arms. He even takes off his shoes to check his feet. It’s all tinged with red a bit too. He ponders what that could imply. Indian as well? “Well well well,” he found himself muttering, shaking his head at it all. “Well well well.”
He prepares breakfast by standing on the sink and touching it. Rosebud tea with butter and muffins. Perfect.
He realizes he can’t get rid of the cap attached to his belt because it exposes the red around his waist. He can’t exchange it for red because red is already in place. I.e., he is not the Barry DeBoy of his remembered dream. He has that much.
He waves hi to his neighbor Hutchison (or was it Hutchinson?) out the window, tending to his garden next door. Not seen.
He goes downstairs to play the piano, since there’s not a lot more to do in the house where he lives. The cardboard box was a dream, but he knows where it is still. Enigma. He’ll go there later when he gets bored. A player’s place is at the piano, he thinks, and begins to tickle the ivories. He decides he needs to study the ebony keys more and incorporate them into his compositions. Ivory *and* Ebony — could be the title for a song, even. Could he compose a piece with only black keys, sharps and flats in other words? It would make for a challenging exercise; cut into the boredom that always comes when he lifts his hands from the Bechstein upright.
His other neighbor Victor also plays the piano. He’s a more proper player, although not a composer: teaches the subject at a local university in fact, a community college I believe, which is all the education most middle class people can afford these days. He doesn’t want to be an elitist, or at least act like one. Because he knows he’s an elitist — 1/2 and 1/2 (here we go).
Barry DeBoy can faintly hear the other piano play on top of his own. Why does he always start about the same time as me? he wonders, momentarily stopping to listen in. Gershwin?
“Put the cap back on,” he hears in another dream. “You are an artist; you are *not* a piano player.” And so it goes.
He stands back from the piano, realizing he can’t even play. One of his paintings appears on the wall beside him: “Capsule in Ocean”.
Can you see it?
2 galleries spotted near each other in the now huge Belliseria landmass otherwise pretty berift of such according to the SL Galleries inworld map.
Visited one to left. No gallery. I’ll provide a picture with interface. Suppose to be, according to the map again, Shakti Studio, located on 152224 Rollingstone Parkway. Notice through the About Land dialog box I opened up that the property is owned by an avatar originally known as lifeisahard.rhode, with crucifix like crosses in her changed name.
The gallery near it, an actual one this time presently featuring the duo calling themselves Insane Focus, is the location we just visited 2 posts back with the wall of ferns, etc.
More soon…
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0210, Bellisaria
It’s time to tell the story of the Ant and the Elephant, both chics. CUE MUSIC
“First off, the elephant is a Trojan Horse, pardon the mixed metaphor of sorts.”
“Pardoned,” she said, because she had that power. She was queen over her own little land which wasn’t little atall to her. Like Rose Wells before her. Or after her. We continue…
“We know that because of the triangle that can be opened with stuff put inside. Like a *bomb*.”
Attagirl gasps, throwing her hands cartoonishly to her mouth. Because she was. Would her subjects do such a dastardly deed? And why in Dennis of all places? Or a TV shooting screen in Dennis?
He stared at red, the cover closed for now, the puzzle incomplete, the TV shooting screen: disabled. But luckily we can view remotely.
Grasshopper is dead.
Her bugs are responsible.
The proof is in the pudding… and the sandwiches, and the cake, and the sausages.
Boomb!
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0210, Bay City/Nova Albion^, Crisp Sea, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Sansara, Wild West
Because of his exploits and otherwise poor grades, Daffy and his wife Dandelonia decided to send Dimmy Gene to a private school up in Nautilus, but trouble followed him everywhere. “Marilyn?” he questioned unbelievably, resisting the urge to scrub his eyes with balled up hands to see if he was hallucinating an old flame just left back in his Jeogeot German hometown.
“One of ’em (!),” came the happy reply by the blonde bartender, just starting her shift at the Princess Club. “Buy me a diamond and we’ll talk about it.” She held out her hand seductively. There was a ring for every finger, including the thumb which held the largest and also the most uniquely shaped. “General named Tom bought me that one,” she said, knowing where his eye lingered. She was an expert at that. “Thimble Diamond, biggest in all of Nautilus continent.” She moved it toward him more. It crossed his mind to grab her hand, pull off the big diamond, and make a run for it. But he knew he couldn’t get far what with all the bodyguards he’d seen around. He held it instead, kissed the ring, and acquiesced to utter power.
Dimmy later described one of the main features of the Princess Castle where the school was as a runaway to his old pops, but he’d inserted one too many vowels into the word. After her shifts at the bar, Marilyn was also often seen there with more lingering eyes. She had ambitions in this world. She’d sell her diamonds one day after she collected 5 more for the other hand, and move to Argentina and run a house of ill repute with all the attached glamour and prestige. She even had a name for the dream place already: Marilyn’s Munsters, with all the girls dressed up like ghouls and goblins; a novelty attraction. She knew it would be a hit and become her legacy. She had it all planned out. Until Dimmy hit town.
The school also provided him with a loaner car. Daffy had spared no expense to make sure his son got ahead in life. “Got anything faster?” he said to Sam Petty the car loaner agent, his eyes pulled away by the glitzier ones. He settled on the most glittery, kissing another, more bony hand. Marilyn was with him at the end.
“Axis-Windmill. You have blood on your hands that you must atone for.”
“I know.”
—–
“What happened to your hands, mister?”
Roth Voomer looked down, not even thinking about that day any more. He’s basically healed. Except for the extremities of course.
“It happens, kid. The Abyss will have its price.”
“The Abyss,” the almost submerged kid says while nodding, having learned about such things in prison school.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0210, Horns of Hatton^, Maebaleia/Satori
Sunklands 