Category Archives: 0303

00480303 (don’t be afraid to say the word)

I couldn’t tell whether they were talking about Vermont or New Hampshire from this distance so I had to zoom in.

Still not clear, but from my now floating lips position I did get this was all about a movement away from another state tucked even further into the northeast corner of our great country of the US of A: Maine. You could say that was the main topic of the conversation between Mouse and his greatest creation, another mouse, anthropomorphic in its case, named Pansy. We were in South America’s Amazon far removed from North because he thought he could get away from prying ears here, didn’t suspect me because I was at the resort when he arrived, let’s put it. Hired by the Gaston Berries to keep track of Mouse and his doings. More on them later maybe.

—–

“A sequence of 1 second shots,” shot back the doctor, following up on rules 34 and 35 already cited. They were exchanging ideas rapid fire on the edge of the cement pond shaped like New Hampshire or Vermont, reader’s choice from these angles.

“Yellow,” started Pansy.

“Blue,” replied the doctor.

“Green,” said the anthropomorphic rodent.

“Red!” issued the doctor named for said rodent to close the sequence.

They’d paced the words to be exactly 1 second apart, just like in the video they were referencing. TILE in summary, the ultimate poop product one could say in a vanilla not chocolate way, a different issuance.

Then the golden gloved one emerged from a static filled background at the center to tell the rest of its story.

(to be continued (?))

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0303, Amazon, Jeogeot, Maine, Nawt Vaya, New Hampshire, NVFS, Vermont

00470303 (6666 posts, 666 pages — coincidence?)

“And so that’s how it all started, this story of FILE derived from TILE,” observing Nauty declared in his wise guy way. “We simply had to move Firey from 4th to 1st in this bottom group of 4 to spell out the word F-I-L-E with the first letters of their reordered names. F stands in for T because these are the 2 straight letters of the alphabet which can contain 7 sub-letters per the TILE game structure. The BFDI object-character colors here also match the 4 of TILE in red green blue yellow of course, although the individual letter to color correspondences are different from the game board. I could go on and on, but I’ll ask you the burning question that now presents itself up front and center alongside or even on top of repositioned Firey: What happened to the Dream Island all these characters were so fiercely battling over, often to their deaths? We know the answer to that too, given it presents itself as a constant in *our* world.”

“Constance,” I say to this, citing the name of the FILE sim that is also the name of the island in question.

“Correct,” he wheezes. “We should return but I’m not sure that’s possible given all else that’s happened in the meantime.” Since the demise of my attempted urban center there I dubbed Constantynople, I understood. Back toward the end of photo-novel 39 I believe. Checking….. checking….. Yes. 39. The island seems to have changed little in the intervening 2 or so years, indeed an aberration for such a large group of separately owned properties in the ever changing world that is Our Second Lyfe. It truly appears to represents some sort of sticky outie constant.


pin filled map of Constance Island with my former Constantynople at the top

“But we still have, let’s see, the rest of FILE,” I said, “the other 30 sims in this column that Constance more or less centers. Minus the hacked off 1 at the top.”


Constance Island in the middle of the 32>31 Nautilus continent “FILE” (purple column)

“Exactly centers including the hacked off 1 at the top,” furthers Nauty, knowing his continent better than me, since it is the same as his body in essence, pins stuck just there there there there, and so on and so forth. Constance is just a start. But also an end. “(The sim of) Ten Pages is 10 up from the bottom,” he continues with his FILE knowledge, “indicating that the 32 minus 1 (the top sim was wacked off in the retirement process), taken as a whole, are pages of a book, perhaps a chapter, perhaps more.”

“A section,” I say. But then I knew it had to be 2 if so.

“The… doorstep to the Temple of TILE was positioned right smack in the center of the 32 sim FILE,” he pinpoints while wheezing out.

Suddenly I knew what had to be done.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0303, Constantynople, Goikyland, Nautilus, NORTH, Rank & File, Temple of TILE

00460303

He listened in while she continued to play her games. It wasn’t a date, she insisted. Casual dress you’ll notice. But Newt was kind of treating it as such. Arrived 30 minutes late. Payback obviously for him being so late the other night to their TV watching down in the bottom of her new dwelling place. Big!

“I don’t know what happened. It just… slipped out of my hands! The whole cone and its triple dip of strawberry ice cream I’ll remind you.”

“No problem, miss. I’ll dip you 3 more.” Sarah “L.A.” Nunchuck had passed the Wheeler test. She’s on the green list as opposed to the red. Newt knew they’d probably be coming here again for future dates or whatever you call this. Rendezvous, she said. “Let’s rendezvous and talk about developments at Nawt Vaya, where we’re going, where we’re heading. But somewhere away from home base. Who knows who’s listening here.”

“Who would be listening?” Newt questioned Wheeler’s logic.

“You know, the neighbors.”

“Veyot? Pearl?” Newt didn’t think the neighbors would be listening in. They had better things to do. Like running art galleries elsewhere in Our Second Lyfe. Yet Wheeler persisted and Newt finally relented. Besides, she found this burg about a 1/2 mile from the lake inland sea quite fascinating — Burg; that was the actual name. “It has an uptown, midtown, and downtown, Newt,” she said about it over the phone while setting up the, ahem, *rendezvous*. “Uptown is classy, midtown is, well, midtown, and downtown is seedy. Then there’s the park to end, west to east. We’ll explore after we have ice cream.”

And so here they are.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0303, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, NVFS, The Burg

00450303

Even though it’s primitive in many ways compared to newer games like Cyberpunk 2077, Red Dead Redemption 02, and even the older Grand Theft Auto V from 2013, there’s still great beauty to be found in Our Second Lyfe.

I was not suppose to come here as the other one. I was suppose to come here as someone new, someone they didn’t recognize and perhaps could learn from. I was always positioned between the 2, I felt.

But Lexi kept thinking about Shelley — that’s why she was here. She was sent away to find the One.

She didn’t see the candy sentry until it was too late. “What do you want?” he rather boomed down at her. “We’ve had trouble around here recently. Creature named Lich. I’m lucky to still be standing.” Silence. Lexi was contemplating what to say to this being, obviously a transplant from an entirely different dimension, she sensed. “Had – TROUBLE,” he emphasized, still glowering down. She had to say something, so:

“Shelley Johnston Struthers. Or Johnson,” she cited the variable name for the middle. “Looking for her. Heard she passed through here.”

“*This* is the castle of the High Princess Pinky Gumm I’ll have you know. You will *not* come around here looking for another.”

“Hmm.” This guy was fronting a rather ordinary looking house as far as she could tell and not a castle. He’s mad as in crazy mad too? “Okay okay,” she relented. “I’ll bite. I’m actually here to see the Princess. Princess Gummy Pink.”

“Princess *Pinky Gumm*,” the candy sentry proudly corrected.

“Yeah, that one. She in?”

“Of course she’s in. She’s *ill*. She cannot leave her bed.”

“Oh. That’s too bad.” Lexi started worrying about communicable diseases more than finding Shelley, at least for the moment. But is this princess actually Shelley? Shelley’s royalty in her book but that’s just the hormones talking. And she’s kind of pink as well. “Catching?”

“Catching *what*?” he issued from above.

“Is whatever she has catching?” she rephrased, still staring up at his gummy ball machine head and wondering how all that worked for brains and all.

“Of course not. She’s *possessed*. By that Lich I mentioned before. You can’t catch possessed.”

“Soo… there’s something inside her? This Lich?”

“That is correct.  Now — go along or I’ll have to alert the banana guards of your presence. They are positioned at the, ahem, basement doors just here… there… there… and there.” While speaking and whirling around in place, he points at what appears to be each side of the house behind him. He’d changed his mind about a visit. This person below him, this *cyberpunk* it appeared from the implants in her head, was simply too snoopy, too suspicious seeming. He decided to reveal that he was not alone in guarding the grounds; strength in numbers.

Lexi sees no signs of guards, knows that regular basements only have one door in and out. At least where she grew up in Horner’s Corners Kansas like the Mary Anne she is. Before it was flooded by the lake. That hellish, damned lake. More fantasy from this toy dude, she judged. Maybe the princess is made up too. She decides to question further.

“So the princess is actually not seeing people right now?”

“Not today. Not tomorrow. Maybe yesterday but that is too late for you. Check back in a month. No: make it 5. 5 years, 10 years to be totally safe.”  He knew that, in all likelihood, Our Second Lyfe would not even be around after 10. Safe indeed.

“Couple more things and then I’ll go on my way. I’m sorry: the person I’m actually looking for must not be here,” she admitted. She wasn’t dead sure of this but she decided to say it anyway.

“She is *not*,” the candy sentry emphasized. “Only the High Princess Pinky Gumm from Candyland. We’re all from Candyland here. *You’re* not. You don’t belong here. *One* more question and be gone.”

“Alright.” Lexi knew this had to be a winner. “This Lich. Anything to do with Fern?”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0045, 0303, Nautilus, Oooo, Perch-Mistletoe

00440303 (Debbie’s commute 02 of 02 (slooow internet))

Bruised and battered, I’m almost there… FREEZE.

… But not quite.

“Old piece of shit!” a punk driver shouted through the window at me as I drive through Little Seoul in the middle of my journey, stating the obvious.

“Hell-looooo!” I shouted back, then wondered why. FREEZE (Dammit!).

I made the rest of my commute quieter, with streets empty now. It seemed to be the safest way to return home. No freeze.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0303, GTA

00430303 (transparent meanings)

Augusta ponders blame and culpability. Looking at you, city council.

In the mind’s eye, Frank drives by the now empty lot after the disaster and thinks of his own emptiness, as in the past he came from. Growing up in Davis with an aunt he didn’t respect enough in retrospect. Didn’t take her woman power ways seriously enough. And now here he is desperately seeking the feminine in himself. Too much masculine: too many powerful, horse laden yellow cars and such.

Who to turn to in a crisis? Certainly not questionable tea dispensing Albert from Murkville. Should’ve screened him better before the hire.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0043, 0303, collages 2d, Georgia, Google Street View, GTA

Walsh County (Pitch Darkly)

“Look dear, I caught another one (!).”

“Hold on, Mary. Hold on. It’s Baker calling.”

“Baker? Hi!”

(reply)

“Yeah, we’re getting along great. A little cold of course but it is North–”

(reply)

“What was that? Hold on, let me take this darn Russian cap off with the ear flaps and all.”

—–

“Okay go ahead, sir.”

(reply)

“Yeah, I heard that now.” He covers the phone with his hand and whispers over to fishing Mary. “Baker says he needs to talk to us as soon as we get back to town.” He listens again…

(reply)

“Mary Ball, eh? Well that’s *one* of her names.”

(reply)

“George, right.” He removes the phone from his ear but doesn’t cover the face up this time while saying over to his wife in a louder voice: “He wants to know how you acquired the Killing Shack, you know, the one over in Epping Woods.”

“Why does he want to know that?” She was happy fishing right now. She didn’t want to be reminded of that horrendous past on her well deserved vacation. Calm, she said to herself. Caalllmm.

“I’ll ask him.” Phone to bare ear again. “Baker, what’s going on?”

(reply)

“Virginia neck country again, eh? Just like with—”

(reply)

“Dead ball era, huh? That’s *my* era, where I came from. Where the *ERA* was real low, he he. Get it? My era. My ER–”

(reply)

“Okay, thanks. See you when we get back.”

(reply)

“We will. Thanks.” And Baker Bloch hangs up on the other side.

—–

“Did you mention the antipoison?”

“No,” Baker responds to Hucka. “I thought he’d had enough to chew on today.”

“Agreed I suppose. So we’re on for next Tuesday?”

“8 o’clock sharp.”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0303, Big Woods, Hana Lei^^, Jeogeot, North Dakota

super-cape

With her relatively newfound fame, it seems that our Ruby Supergal was always traveling these days, living out of her suitcase as it were. She was on a mission: to spread love and peace and joy throughout the whole of Portugal and maybe even the western parts of Spain, depending on how much she can grow her fame. She felt she was a light of the world, showing the way to a brighter future out of the dimmer past. And the Atlantis revelation was one step along that path, perhaps a pretty important one, up there with any musical decisions she might make.

She let one of the colorful butterflies circling around her shimmy through her outstretched hand, enjoying the sensation.

She knew the butterfly enjoyed it too. Hope, she decided to name it. Hope for the future.

“Soundcheck on the set in 10 minutes!” her manager barked up some nearby stairs. “Goodby Hope and the other 2,” she said as she moved away from them and back into reality.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0303, Hana Lei^^

“Hey Mickey”!

Channeling the music as inspiration instead of irritation, she starts…

Ketchup Tom thinks he has an easy trade with me. Not so much. I’m only here because of the typewriter. And the drums — I wish to play with him later on at least in *that* way. Tee hee. I laugh like a slut but I’m not. I talk and walk trash but I’m not. Sometimes I write science fiction when I’m in a future mode or mood. Silverberg went over Pork Chop Hill; didn’t make it back. The war took a lot of us. I don’t have to remind the reader about that. Threatened to turn civilization back to the Monkeys, pheh. Civilization Phaze III we could call it in Zappa-speak, if it even gets that far. Monkeys use bones for drumming after all. And how often do bones turn into starships? I should know all about it. Because I was in that one. Because… I am Frank’s long lost sister’s father’s granddaughter. Not Moon: Starr. Because I will be one. I am destined to be one, born to be one. A Starr is Born.

Mickey, put down your sticks and sit back and listen to what I’m saying while I dance on your Head. I’m speaking to you directly.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0303, Bellisaria, Sandfly

sunset

“Okay I’m here on the beach beside the TILE ball, Tom. I’ve got you on speaker so I can keep reading this interesting magazine in front of me. Perhaps clues in there, you understand.” Al didn’t really believe there were any clues in there. He just liked the articles advertised on the cover. All about Home — he wished he had a true home and not just continue to be a traveler of both time and space. He desired to settle down, like the old days, fast becoming the *good* old days.

After the reply: “About 8:01 PM it looks by the sun. Roughly speaking.”

Reply.

“No. No one on the beach except me. No surfers spotted, no one.”

Reply.

“It’s a pretty beach. Pretty long that is (*snicker*).”

Reply.

“No time for jokes, I understand. Jokes later.”

Reply.

“I’ll get settled in. I guess I’ll just bed down here for the night. Then start up the road tomorrow after I check out the beach more in the morning. Maybe I’ll get to interact with someone then.” Al didn’t doubt that his boss Thomasina was onto something sending him here. TILE was strong — he could feel it, as he does. ‘No orange, no purple, let’s make this shit happen,’ he recalls about the sacred manuscript. And here, supposedly, is the amender of such, the bringer of cow and a lot of other things. Won’t have any shorts left, Thomasina said. Al was looking for a little yellow naked fellow. But he was wrong on that.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0303, Hana Lei^^