Category Archives: 0312

May 13, 2023 · 10:14 pm

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She checked the TV guide in this limited satellite viewing of a place but nothing else came on until the sun rose up at 6. 5 more minutes. Edward was finished with the 1st chapter of the book both in reality and irreality. They needed to unwind after all the excitement, thus the cartoons. Bugs Bunny, Ren and Stimpy, and then the most controversial to end. Adventure Time. “Too Young”. Lemongrab was a trip! He makes a mental note to look up more on the character after their excursion into the sea today. Goal: Galapagos Islands. Or Azore Islands, whichever appear first on the screen. If the latter, however, they’d have to watch out for Keith, make sure he didn’t see them together. Shelley was dressed in her usual sun blocking duds which were the same as scrubs. Loose fitting. Ducks all over the top. When she appeared in them after Adventure Time, somewhat nearsighted Edward thought they were lemons and that she’d donned the outfit as a joke. But it was just her usual for maritime adventures.

An image reappeared on the formerly static filled screen. Crack of dawn, yea! Now they can continue watching themselves. There they are out on the beach, choosing one of the 2 available boats, her “boys”. Edward or Arthur? she pondered in front of their noses. Both the same length if slightly different shades of gray. She could have both! She climbs in one then climbs in another. Yes, these will do fine.

(to be continued)

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March 21, 2023 · 1:32 am

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How appropriate, he thinks. A big purple cube-like thingy has manifest just outside my front door since I lasted visited, sign of The Void of course.

Anyway (he turns), this is the last of my stuff, Nautilus continent home cleaned out. Couldn’t afford it, you see, with the upcoming court battle looming and paying for legal fees, etc. But I know who my real foe is now.

It seems like yesterday I was standing on the back porch with Shelley, inviting her to my sand paradise sim. She came to the party with Edward, who was somewhere just below with the rest of the still raucous crowd, even at half past 1. She explained, fairly early on actually, that her husband was away and he didn’t mind Edward taking care of her in his absence — trusted him just as much as he trusted someone named Keith who was a kind of surrogate father to her, I gathered. Also revealed that she was a writer, which interested me greatly. I happened to be a friend of a friend of one of the upper echelon of Lonelyhearts Publishers over on the *Omega* continent — caught her with a lie on that: she claimed Corsica Prime for the location, where her husband was, actually (she then admitted), looking for roles as big as his ambition and ego, she stated. I’d even heard about one or two of her books, although I couldn’t remember her attached nom de plume. “Jennifer,” she said. “Jennifer Lane.”

He turns back from the memory, red handtruck and hauling the final boxes down to the boat in his mind now. 1st pre-hearing at 7:45 tomorrow morning; gotta give about an hour for prep on that as well. He’ll have to do with around 2 hours sleep, he figures. He can catch up with the dreaming this weekend. Information, pure information. When he can interpret it, pheh. Like last night with the avocado.

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January 2, 2023 · 11:19 am

we’re painting a picture of a place

He stared over at it while she stared at him. “Remember that day when we opened the box and came here?”

“Best day of my life,” said Lucy to this. Limes. Box full of limes. Unlimited tequila.

“I mean, we were *there* — Real Life — and then we were here — Second Lyfe.”

“And we had 3rd Life on our computers instead, yeah. Cool. Really neat. I instantly turned myself into Leia from Star Trek.”

“I mean,” he continued on this track. “You remember smells. Don’t you?”

“Smells?”

“And touch. Feeling and touching. Not just seeing, not just hearing. There use to be 5 senses, Lucy.”

“It’s beautiful here,” she deflected. “I can feel the spray of the ocean if I close my eyes. I can hear the porpoises. I *feel* like I have a purpose here — that’s the only ‘feel’ I need.”

“Okay, how about smell?” he tried again. Did *he* remember smell? He couldn’t quite recall it now. Maybe all a dream. He tried to trace it back. And why this fascination with Shelley when he already has Lucy? They’ve been married 6 years, been buried longer than that, but that was just a past life. Someone allowed them to open the box, someone raised them from the dead. Here. Small box for a coffin, but there you have it. More symbolic than anything, he reckoned.

“It’s been there for 6 7 years. Have we even tried to move it? Even once?”

“2019,” said Lucy to this. “Hurricane coming in. Wouldn’t budge. We came back and everything was okay. The only lingering effect was this pool of water that partially submerged our back yard. Water never left. But we always wanted a pool.”

“Not this kind,” shot back Keanoob. He didn’t *feel* like sitting down beside it today, partially submerging himself in this pool or whatever the heck it really was. A curse, he gathered, quite a long time ago, actually. Probably 2019 again.

He’s going into the mountains instead.

“Ant Castle?” Lucy said to this, use to his wandering off by now.

“I think I’ll go visit Barry instead at his studio.”

“Better call. You remember what happened last time.” Barry really gets involved in his art, as Keanoob found out that day.

Ah heck, he’ll stay local and go check out the Durexian-Trojan War Memorial again. In a park across the road; only 200 meters from here. Sometimes he can still hear the distance cannons if he lays real quiet in the re-created Durexian-Trojan shared tent over there. You lose a sense or 3 you gain a sense or 3. Or so they say.

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October 27, 2022 · 8:34 am

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“Thanks for coming to rescue me, *Lemont*.”

“You’re very welcome dearest. But you can *really* thank your Venus Cage necklace, or at least the photo of it.”

“Right. Didn’t remember anything about the Umbrella Club until I pulled it out of my purse and took a look. Angles aren’t right in the black and white photograph. Can’t figure out where it is taken on the body.”

“It’s not a body.”

“Yeah, I know that now. But just the studying, the trying to figure it out, changed me. I can never go back now. I remain under the Umbrella. Figuratively, of course, because here we’re out in the sun still. Where is our umbrella anyway?”

“Stashed away for a rainy day,” he said.

She turned on her side. “And… I don’t think I desire to wear purple any more. That must go along with (the change). Or when I do it’s *my* choice. She shaked her index finger to reinforce her point. Shelley she was through and through, she thought.

But Lemont knew the situation could change. Good now for them. But George/The Musician was still out there somewhere.

And Roberts remained just around the corner.

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August 17, 2022 · 9:13 pm

meaningful names

Newt walks down 64th exactly aligned with longitude 64 in the sim. He’s just done the same in Big Woods sans a road to follow, trying to also figure out the lay of the land there. *There* has shifted to here. Witness the Duck in the background (!).

Wall of purest Green ahead. And that confounded gold tipped pyramid. How did Eyela know it would be here??

Now to find her, Newt thinks. Could have shifted shapes already, exchanging old for new. Very likely, given her history.

There’s also some clear indication that an association exists between this new town, this Gold City as I call it derivatively, and NWES City on the west side of the continent — opposite coast.

Remember NWES City and *its* Applewood? Primary setting for photo-novel 22, perhaps the best of the lot, or at least most profoundly, um, balanced front to back (unless it’s 25, 19, 16, 13, 10, 7, 4 or 1 in the series). We also saw Marsha “Pink” Krakow in that one, along with her boy Barry. Applewood (sim) is most prominently featured, though, in section 1 of photo-novel 16, which matches a NWES City narrative to one created in Nautilus’ Collagesity (when it existed), or, more precisely, a NWES City narrative unfolded in sections 1, 3, 5 *balanced* (that word again) by a Collagesity narrative existing in sections 2, 4, and 6 to complete. In photo-novel 22, as it happens, Collagesity has, in essence, *merged* with NWES City (briefly) to form a synthesis of inner/personal and outer/general, the goal of my journeys since the failure of same back in photo-novel 4 when I tried it with (what I call again) VHC City.

Is Newt thinking some of these same thoughts about past photo-novels as he continues to explore Gold City, advertised by the owner as the *second* largest city of the Jeogeot continent? Probably. Can you guess the largest? I think you can.

One more note here. The rent is significantly higher in Gold City than NWES City, which I would assume makes it more difficult to flesh out a story like I did with the latter. Right now I’m working along the lines that the name Applewood here is planted on purpose in its honor. Add in my efforts past and present, and we may have some kind of overall Jeogeot mythology forming from the aether.

At the midway point up in the sim, Newt turns left from 64th onto Southbridge, hoping to get more answers tonight.

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June 10, 2022 · 5:29 am

Spongeberg the Destroyer

“Don’t worry, Baker B.

“Grassy and I have taken care of Lower Austra for ya.”

Before the Faun, they laugh together.

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April 1, 2022 · 6:48 am

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The lake is just silver shores now. Debbie is gone; the situation had changed. He had Joey now. Time to head back to the underground, check on Joey, check on *Bart*. If he starts to stir again he should be there. Too bad Debbie can’t help since she’s better at recording. But she has the library gig now, she explained a bit earlier, before the mist moved in and turned everything metallic. “I… love…” he confessed, and she just POOF: gone.

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January 25, 2022 · 8:30 am

cins

Like any child, Duncan realizes he is neither one nor the other. He is himself. Yet he must honor the dead.

What *now*, mother, father? I am a mere black child with red on his hands from doing wrong deeds. Continuously! Tell me how I made my error.

Could it have been… conception itself?

—–

Neighboring Perch-Mistletoe now:

I’m doing what Wendy did before, he thinks while rubbing down a counter in a local sushi bar with his bare hands. I killed her (!).

The Man About Time showed up.

“Sorry about the lateness,” he apologized in his mild manner, too embarrassed to say he’d forgotten how to put on his clothes and had to be reminded by those around him. “Just change your wardrobe,” they collectively scolded. “Oh,” he said in return, turning as red as Duncan’s sinful mitts, another error filled story.

“Wellll?”

“Carrcassonnee?” Man About Time said, knowing what was foremost in Duncan’s mind even if he didn’t. Did it work this time? Was he able to merge the 7th back into the 6 and start the, er, *car*? It was a thing to ponder and he did. Remember, MAT, remember! Where *was* he? He looked around. I was there and now I’m here which was there before, but…

Duncan repeated his original one word question to Man About Time, refocusing him to the present. Center. He recalls: center.

(to be continued)

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November 30, 2021 · 7:24 am

Meat

“F-ing complicated!” he said about the map he stood upon, and all the pins dotting it. Nautilus. The 1st continent. The last continent. Where the Outside gets In.

“Calm down, calm down,” she said from the side, just around the corner. “You know about Marilyn and the alternate national anthem. You know which US of A is peering down into the translucent cube — hypercube, actually — from the Outside. It’s one that has been frozen in time. You have your pattern,” she finalized, looking steady into his eyes now, fully emerged. I couldn’t tell her hair color. I’m going to go with white (for now). I knew this was a 3.16 situation and that a return to Squared Root City was up soon. “Give it some time to mature,” I said, trying to calm myself this go around. Unable to keep stabilized, she receded. I moved forward — past Collagesity. Forward into the past, perhaps.

I start a new folder for my inworld photos and pin it to my Quick access. (photo #) 1950. Here we go!

—–

Ah yes. Starlight.

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October 11, 2021 · 10:43 am

pink

One of these things…

“Tell me about this mix up of blue and black, Primary Rabbit,” he requests from the shell chair while listening to the insane croonings of this Indian Wells fellow. Inane even, perhaps, like he doesn’t even know what he’s doing. Like The Shaggs, he thinks, good girls but totally misguided. But Frank (Zappa) liked them and thus they can’t be all bad. I wonder what Frank would think of Indian? I think he had an Indian in his group one time, The Mothers. But maybe it was a Black man instead, he corrects. *Both*, he realizes. In one. And a Cowboy as well.

“Have you gotten it yet?” Primary Rabbit squeaks from beside him, still deciding what primary color would go best with his vest.

“Never mind.”

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