Category Archives: 0214

locations

Jeffrie Phillips decides to try something different out with Charlene the punk tonight. “Are you there?” he im’s her.

“Yeah, I think so,” she replies back after a lag in her parallel spot. “There’s a rhino, so…”

“Yep, that’s it. So… go ahead and see if you can get through the door. Then I’ll try with the gate.”

—–

“What happened to your last girl?” asked new gal pal Hina 3 days later at Teepot’s sake bar (and art gallery).

“Ah, she was just in a different place than me,” he spoke truthfully. “I wish her well.”

“Your place or mine?” Hina then asked boldly, not wanting to waste the moment.

“Mine.” But Jeffrie returned to his downtown apartment alone and without another tag along girl. He seemed to be flipping through them more rapidly these days. Must be the heat, he wrote to end.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0214, Gaston^^, Purden/Snowlands^, Sansara^^, Teepot^^

Upper West East Central Fenland (or thereabouts)

He decides to become Harrison Jett this morning, who seems to be the same as Young Harris the professor, perhaps a later incarnation. It was a logical choice, given the shirt he wore.

“Another Messed Up,” he observed about the art work before him, thinking back to the contract signed on that particular Weird-o Island. Not the one with the Upper New York virtual university. Not the one where that pseudo-God lives up in the aether somewhere — David something or ‘nother. Instead perhaps the *weirdest* one of the 3, but he can’t recall the name. He remembers… staying there. Perhaps he is still there.

Whose heart is left on the musical stand? He must think of Mozart and the critical error of Yoko Ona the witch. Hole in the center. But it wasn’t John’s. It was his! The walrus was… well, you know the story.

I think this has something to do directly with that Weird-o island I can’t recall the name of. Queer?

Better head back there for more clarification hopefully.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0214, Corsica^^, Northwest

trip

Kind Of Messed Up 02 often went further up into New York to hear Prof. Young Harris speak. His arch-rival Dr. Young Kane was not in attendance today in Oswego Hall, much to the professor’s relief. He knew Dr. Kane, quite old now and not young atall anymore, much like himself (they’ve been rivals since The Beginning) would interrupt the lecture at various points to call out what *he* felt were fallacies. “There’s no such thing as Certain Death,” he might scold, for example. “Young Harris (no ‘Professor’ at the beginning, you’ll notice), me thinks you doth not understand what you speaketh of,” knowing his broken Shakespeare would always get a laugh from the audience, and perhaps make Young Harris turn bright beet red again, like that time in the summer of 1919. The Summer of Red they called it after that. Anyway, today he was talking about Certain Death again, and contagions luring in the shadows, perhaps whitewashed by what he called not pseudo-science but *non*-science or even *anti*-science. “There’s a difference between the two,” he explains. “Pseudo-science *strives* to be science, and perhaps it will one day. Take crop circles –” and here he has a handy paragraph or two to deliver about the “supernatural” reality of what most think are man-made phenomenon, very scientific in scope. He might also invoke here telekinesis, mind reading, tarot cards, dice, I Ching, phrenology, as fields that are not viewed as kosher amongst the scientific elite — those in power to make important decisions and then package and disseminate them to the common public as they wish — but what could be found out to have actual value down the road somewhere. Then he brings up contagions and the blinders we, as a society and also as an elite lurking within, put on in regards to being “in the dark” soon. “The lights,” — and here in his lecture he instructs one of his Young assistants to actually turn off the lights in the auditorium — “*will* go out, and we will *all* — be blinded.” The lights come back on. He takes his bows. No one here today — not that one dissenter in the crowd — to take the spotlight off his success. One even throws a rose at him but it turns out to be blue.

As the crowd dissipates, Kind Of moves down to the lower level to attempt to make contact.

“Professor? Professor, could I have a word?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0019, 0214, Corsica^^, Stranger Creek

directions

Whenever Ben gets lost or confused in his wanderings, he just types BENA into his map search box and returns here through it, to the center of Bena, formerly Bennington — with his bar straight ahead. Through this practice he’d learned, quite a long time ago at this point — about the time of the Vampire Coup I suppose — that his home sim now called Bena has a double, also named Bena. Or beginning with Bena. Anyway, it’s an ocean sim or water sim, more in the western reaches of the continent. And, just to its northwest, a kind of parallel town to here. One day he’d use this trick to escape the bar, the vampires, even his old werewolf friends that still come by his establishment every now and then, despite what the vampires told them to do. “Stay away,” they exclaimed after the coup. “The bar is ours, the *town* is ours. And then they brought in that foreign lawyer Rebl to seal the deal. How many forms did he have to sign back in the day? Too many to remember. Bennington to Bena, pheh.

He turned around in place and stared at Northeast Bloodbath Castle, so named because of a bath of blood (the king’s favorite in olden days) instead of a murder spree of some kind. “Wonder if that Rocky Racco writer guy ever made it over there to fish?” he wonders aloud. “Guess I should have told him about the sea monster that guards the place, hehe.” Ben Wolf ponders about the last time he saw Gregg Oden, aka the “monster”. Probably 20 years ago at this point. Just walked in the bar, ordered a Baileys and poured it in his shoe and drank it down, and then walked back toward the bay, shouting, “I’m Gregg Oden!” before the waters took his slimy green, pink tutu wearing figure again. He’s always looking for a man-wife after he shows them his shiny man-gina, and perhaps this Rocky Racco will turn out to be a suitable one this time. But the odds are stacked way against him.

Ben exits the bay and walks into town, but passes his bar — empty anyways (day hours) — on the way to Rocky’s now vacated cave, his old home when Bena was Bennington. The “Wolf Den.”

He could live here again, he ruminates while sitting on the soft, cushy pillows within. But that would mean…

The pack wouldn’t understand, despite the weakening down through the years. They’d still tear her to shreds, pull out her head and all her limbs and wave them about while howling their crazy “traitor songs” maniacally. Once married to a wolf, always a Wolf yourself, he understood. The surname Phox she cooked up one drunken evening was a sardonic play on words. She knew it was Wolf still and told it to everyone who asked, saying the other name was a joke and then usually laughed a bit to emphasize this. Funny Phyllis Phox, people thought about her. Guess that led to the stand up comedy. Which led to the novels.

No, he’d have to think of another way. Perhaps involving this other Bena, yes…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0018, 0214, Benangatron, Corsica^^

Junk Yd

He always seemed to be hiding behind bushes.

No not that one (SWING!). *This* one.

Because he himself was a bush. Not yet burning but hopefully soon. The Sun was very very hot today. Perhaps today would be the day….

He moves on, trying to find…

OH SHITE, it happened!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0017, 0214, The Waste^^

R

“I *knew* I’d find you here, Eighty-eight.”

“Yeah. You know I can only get so far from you, Apple of My Life.”

“How’s your flu going?” Sarcasm.

Eighty-eight didn’t answer, but instead looked to the door. The door to *her* night club. She was the Star. It all revolved around her. Like planets.

“You gonna stick around and hear me play?” she then asked, not seeing the person enter that she wanted to. Her voice was steady, unfaltering. She knew what she was doing and was in command. Not Tracy Austin Newtonia Kashkow. The latter wasn’t use to that and didn’t like it. Not one bite she didn’t.

—–

She sat at the drum kit, calmly waiting while the singer and keyboardist remained frozen around her (like planets).

Her lover entered with the sphere.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Just afterwards his car parked outside burst into flames. Like the Sun.

—–

“I think I get it,” exclaimed actress Alice Frame in her rented apartment next to Spunky’s while reading the latest script. “Ingo is controlled by the Sphere, the Sphere is controlled by…”

—–

“HIT IT!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0016, 0214, Jeogeot^^, NWES Island

out of sight

“Good one, Aqua Dude!”

“Where’s Chicken Guy today!?” he shouted in return, but Chesteria had already run out of earshot. So fast. Cheetah fast, of course, since she was 1/2.

Watch out for that fountain, Speedy Gonzales! But she was nimble as well as fast. Best of both worlds.

The cows wouldn’t recognize her if she stood still. Always a blur to them.

Then something suddenly made her STOP. A running plane at the airport on the west side of town — new one. Circle within circle design on the wings. It somehow rang a bell. Like a cow.

“Help!” shouted the occupant, a lone flyer. But now: no fly. He had landed in Regaltown and he wasn’t gay, so the scripts didn’t work here. “Help!” he repeated, unable to even separate himself from the cockpit.

Keith B. 1/2 of the non-gay team called The Basterds. He suddenly found himself 20 years younger. Maybe 40 after the glasses also disappeared. Grammy’s vortex powers were still in effect for the area, eating up the decades in pairs.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0015, 0214, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Regaltown^

elements

Amos Truth kept making his sacks for the seeds and trying to ignore the heat.

The local fire extinguishers had long run dry.

The pineapple forest remained safe for now thanks to the intermediary Tall House.

This side of Route 8 was on fire.

“Hurry up, Brother Gabby. Not much more time for gathering.”

“I hear ya, Brother Amos. I hear ya loud and clear.”

Gabby then goes on to repeat the very long story about how Earth had already taken over the town across the road, ending with, “Where’s Air? Where’s Water? pheh. Only a matter of time if you ask me.”

In town, Betty, Carolyn, Marilyn, and Boop tried to keep soiled stains out of their clothes to no avail.

Toppsity was pretty much inundated.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0014, 0214, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Toppsity

a one and a two

“So this is where Old Mabel performs her Hannah Montana routine, huh,” spoke Baker Blinker, not touching her breakfast yet.

“Go ahead,” urged Baker Bloch, seeing his female counterpart’s hesitation. “The Bennington experiment eggs are the best. So tasty. I’m on my second helping.”

“Umm. I think I’ll pass. Thanks for the food, though. It just smells a little — off to me.”

“Bennington eggs? No way. They ship them in fresh every day. I hear the delivery truck rattle down main street every morning promptly at 5:00am. Or so.”

“From your home of Darkly Manor?” the female Baker attempts to clarify. “You *are* Pitch Darkly here in Collagesity. That’s where you live.”

“Err. Yeah, I suppose.” Baker Bloch was trying to understand how all that worked. He had memories of being the bloodied vampire originally from VHC City, and lots of them. Marriage to Mary Greentop. Construction of Darkly Manor to lure him to Collagesity from VHC City when the latter finally became impossible to live in. But how could he lure himself? He must be in two places at once.

“Well I’m all ears now. Convince me — and Karoz — to come back. Now that our coup didn’t work.”

“As you’ve described, it worked for one shining moment.”

“Morgan, yeah. But then — in the same spot even…”

“I know. Karoz lost the wrestling match again. Or won it — something.”

“But you’re right. We had it for a moment.” A climax, she thought, but didn’t say aloud. Then: droop all around. Julian reduced to Julia; loss of “N”. AlmaNoz separated out to Alma and Oz. But where did the “N” go? she pondered. Was the one time enough to lure them back? Like the good ol’ days?

“Two places,” Baker Blinker started the compromise in earnest. “We’ll have to have two places to live.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0013, 0214, Rubi^

Storisende

John Cage had come to feel
That art in our time
Was far less important
Than our daily lives

~ “Tiger the Lion” by The Tragically Hip

“So here we are. At the appropriately named Ebonshire. This is as far as you’ve ever gone Monsieur Gold. You are almost ready to transition. See over there?” Parasol indicates across the water to her left. “End of the tale. Tiger. Are you ready?”

But then Monsieur Gold was gone, in a flash. From the other direction, several deer look on, thinking her crazy for talking to herself.

—–

Just later, Parasol goes to confer with the Monster of the Sea about the next step.

—–

“Thank you my friend.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0012, 0214, Canada, Rosehaven^^