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Category Archives: 0411
Aisle of Palms…
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0411, Big Woods, Fal Mouth Moon, Jeogeot, Temple of TILE
00400411
“Definitely silver,” he rechecked through the past observing tool locally known as the chronovishmach. “So definitely George.”
—–
In the past, Hucka Doobie was eating alone. But in this alternate version she had the guts to walk up to Marion Star Harding and ask him on a date. Just after this she continued her guttiness and told Ozzie Osbourne, another star, that his gig was up in Gaston and that he’d have to return to Meat City for future concerts like these. Still on an adrenaline rush she goes back to Marion at the bar and gives him a kiss full on the lips, saying that’s to tide him over until tonight. Just arrived Ketchup Tom, aka The Musician (aka *George*) walks into the club, wanting to check everything out while Marsha was unloading the car, especially the structure of the place, trying to determine if his music would collapse it like before with that huge piece of coal for a bar in West Virginie. Hucka Doobie assured him that all had been prepared and that a non-collapsing spell had been cast by a local wizard. Club Rhino: definitely at a crossroads between various dimensions. Why Hucka Doobie was here in the first place, she finally determined after much lamenting and gnashing of teeth about her “entrapment” in Gaston. “Damn you Tammy Whatammy!” she cursed aloud a lot at first. “Damn you evil, conniving Casey One Hole!”, the root person to blame since Tammy was just following orders when she pushed her through that imprisoning collage back in photo-novel 7. Such a long time ago. She knew alternate versions of herself existed elsewhere. But she only existed within the body, the *vessel* of this here one. And she’s tired of complaining about the darkness. “When in Rome,” and so on.
“When in Rome” (2018)
And so in this version she dines and drinks with Marion Harding instead of doing so alone. And other things have changed: no “Welcome to Mimosa” on the sign, you’ll notice in comparing the last photo of this here blog post with the one above, anything that was once golden having been lost in the transition. Silver now. Night. Dark. Welcome to Gaston.
“We better get to the gig,” Marion requested after 2 wines, hoping to move to his more standard pot soon. Levon would have some, he knew. And Levon liked his music over his money, women, anything else. He’d be at the gig for sure.
“Oh,” said disappointed Hucka to this, wishing they’d just skip to whole gig thing and move on to that other stuff she had in mind. Bases, although obviously safe at home still — home base is definitely off limits tonight. But 1st, maybe 2nd? In play, she envisioned in her mind. Was she still desirable? she couldn’t help wondering as Marion got up and she followed suit and then looked at the back of his suit as it made pleasing motions while he walked toward the Rhino.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0411, Bogota, collages 2d, Gaston+, Omega, Silverton, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island, West Virginia
00390411
Philip watched Philip’s head turn big one last time before turning and leaving him behind at the base of the bridge.
“You stay here,” he said to his double just earlier, looking down on him a bit from the middle. Only the big head drew them even. “Storms’ a brewing: hurricane season, let’s say. You go back and take care of Dancing and Flip Flop just in case.”
“Just in case what?” the double asked.
“You know what,” Philip answered himself, or about as close as he could get. But the big head — eye to eye, then. Something about his doppelganger having answers that he didn’t. But no time for that now; the decision has been made. He turns…
Mr. Z watched it all from a nearby chair, perhaps unnoticed in the heat of the moment. He’d seen it all before. His own double.
Mr. Z, aka A.B. Normal, paused at the top of the bridge, realizing he had encountered his own doppelganger heading in the opposite direction: toward that island storm.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0411, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File
00380411 (turning)
“I don’t know why they renamed this part of the lake Clear. ‘Bout as black as the other part as far as my eye can tell.” Eighty knew Forty couldn’t see with the other one so no need to correct the singular. Another victim of the war, let’s say.
“Meddling, pure meddling,” she replied. “Boredom maybe. The more things change the more they stay the same.”
“Amen to that.”
They kept staring at the still pretty murky water, despite the acquired name. Eighty spotted the octopus again, reminding her she had to meet her counterpart Eight at the town ratskeller. She excused herself from this wonderful but ultimately fruitless conversation. Her last uttered sentence here says it all. Black split up with a dam to make Black and Clear but it doesn’t matter. Everyone can *see* what’s happening, even half-sighted Forty here, Eighty’s wannabe boyfriend but only part of the way there so far. And, spoiler alert, it doesn’t get better for him moving forward. Because she’s got an extra 8 on top of the one she already has. Sometimes they forget which is which.
—–
“I forgot you were coming,” Eight admits. “Sometimes I…”
“… forget which is which yeah yeah yeah.”
“You too?”
“Me too,” Eighty reciprocates. She has to ask why to a lot of things to help remember the y, the letter that makes all the difference. Why split Black Lake with a dam that was formerly just a footpath bridge to create Black and Clear? Stuff like that. She stays outside most of the time because of it. Eight: usually here… in the relative dark. Sometimes sitting with Rag Doll instead of “sister” Eighty. Which is how turning Alessandra remembers the scene, finished studying the newest work of boy-like genius Barry De Boy. Men, she thinks. So full of themselves. She’ll stick with bathing suit clad Shelley, however imaginary she is… no one else can see; black instead of clear.
“Welcome back Miss Aless,” Edvin the matre d spoke up to her, like a page to a queen. Table for one as usual?”
She wanted to say, “make it two tonight,” but knew she couldn’t. Busboy Peterson had starting clearing her regular spot as soon as she showed up on the stairs, studying that painting from the future. Almost done.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0411, Jeogeot, Newtown+
fidgety (blue pill (party 11))
He was trying to stay in the present and read about horses in a row but his mind kept going back to Evelyn. Evelyn Hart. She was the center of his world; the love of his life. His name? I’m picking up on Murdochh, yess, a Middletown moniker. The plot thickens more, like a vanilla shake turning chocolate and beyond. This man was a link.
If only the toys would stay still enough for a proper portrait (dramatization).
“Stay. *Still*.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0411, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Wild West
00360411
Good to see you back home and safe, Mrs. Shelley,” spoke Sam the bartender. “Mister Arthur was looking for you this morning. Said he was going for a walk — Ant Castle I believe was specifically referenced by the sir.”
“Yeah,” spoke Shelley. “I didn’t come home last night. Wandered down The Trunk.” Sam nods here understandably and sympathetically, having heard this before. “Got lost.”
“Aah The Moon again,” he said, knowing it was full last night. “Did you do anything you can’t take back?”
“I…’m not sure.”
“Then you better choose. Dark Side or Light Side. And which is which in your mind. Because if you don’t, The Moon will choose for you. I approximate you have about 1 month to decide. Or 27 or 28 days, ma’am. Which *service* will you choose?”
Pretty profound words there from a bartender, but, then again, he was studying for the priesthood. Or to be a gourmet chef… choice will also come to him soon. She decides and I decide, he realizes. Because instead of praying he was cooking up a storm last night, shrimp, lobster and crab being the victims in order. “Rock’n it,” he said at one point in the heat of creativity, expertly blackening a shrimp with one hand while boiling a lobster to perfection with another. Master chef. Or not… a crab dropped out of the pan while he had a moment of doubt, fear creeping into and intruding on unconditional love. God, he thought later. God disapproves of this night.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0411, Corsica, Northwest
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Actress Janet Zzyzx heads to the haystack for fresh straw to suck on before her shoot. “Okay,” she said, satisfied after moving it around in her mouth, testing for texture, width, etc. “Ready.”
—–
“Today,” said director Kurt Strawb, a fruit-vegetable hybrid, “we’ll be returning to The Void for more North-South action.” Hurrah, thinks Janet, believing she’d be going back to the bar that provided her free drinks after her last shoot there. But, alas, that place has been shut down, as Kurt alluded to next. “*Instead*,” he said, “we’ll be returning to the same place as the Cash-Carter cell shoot from yesterday.” Janet hadn’t been there, visiting Bermuda on a short break at the time. She was familiar with Claude Cash — who wasn’t? — but the Biff Carter character was unknown to her, having only appeared in the film for 1 scene before this. She said this to Kurt; she asked what happened. “Set the scene,” she requested from her sophomore director, involved in only 1 previous film before this outside of student work. “Blackjack in Hell” doesn’t count except as a big fat Zero, as wide as it is high.
“Welll,” started Kurt again, reviewing it in his mind at the same time. “Claude — you remember *Claude* don’t you?”
“Of course.” Don’t patronize me you sophomore, she thought.
“He shows up mysteriously in this police cell guarded by our Clubb — which is a double entendre since Clubb is also club, add in Carter’s reference to Kitty Kat Klub, which is, in turn, reference to the KKK and also Krazy Kooky Kentucky from Act I. Then we also have mention of Klancasterians from Act II.”
Way too much detail, thinks Janet.
“So when our Biff Carter, back on the force, at least for a handful of hours a week thanks to giving Phil that pill…”
Filburt, or Philburt, thinks Janet. Wondered when he was going to rear his ugly head.
“… shows up, it’s not previously seen Arthur Kill in the cell — or Kill van Kull or maybe even Lampton, all being part of one entity that was killed and then raised from the dead in the last photo-novel…”
*Please* don’t go back to that, thinks Janet. The current one was confusing enough.
“… he is able to, ahem, *fill* in for him, ha, and thus use his old squad car, which has fallen into disrepair in the meantime — as opposed to *being* repaired…”
Pu-lease, thinks Janet.
“… anyway, he uses this to track down the girl, he hoped.”
Another stalker, thinks Janet here, suddenly getting interested again. Just like — what was his name? — the guy in black, the *prevert* who stalked that other girl, the one who also always wore black, as in bikini, as if they were joined at the hip in some way. Or someplace else, hmm.
Kurt Strawb had stopped here, waiting for Janet to complete her reverie signaled by her glassy eyed nature. She looked at him and then looked around at the crew, all ready to start, all waiting for Kurt to finish his spiel. Too much talk! most were thinking around him. He’ll never get a third try at these things the way he’s going, thought some even. Sophomore he would remain.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0411, HANA LEI, Heterocera, Mountain Lake, Omega
00340411
“Drop it!” Tessa commanded, then realized she was in the wrong post when she shouted this. Wrong post wrong place. Although they may meet again, she said.
—–
“This orange ain’t right,” Maggie McFarland pondered in the correct time and location, thinking it too yellow to be true. Halfway between an orange and a banana we could add from our perspective. Not here not there. She puts it back… in the bananas?
Maggie had left the remainder of her groceries at the check out counter, including a green apple and a red pepper. Check that: a red apple and a green pepper. Checkout lady and part-time Twin Pines Market owner Mabel (Mabel!) was in the bathroom, waiting for Maggie to finish. She always goes back two or three times for other stuff. “Oh, I forgot the oregano sauce for Den Den’s supper, oh dear,” she might utter after Mabel (Mabel!) had already rung her up. So she just lets the food collect now on the counter and bides her time patiently uses her time wisely. “Oh never mind me,” Maggie said at another point, “I’m just an old lady looking for a slice of fun pie,” and went off and retrieved Den Den’s spagettios, perusing the shelves for the right kind first, the one made with veggie broth instead of meat. Mabel (Mabel!) had learned she could comfortably fit in a bathroom break after the first layout of groceries, like here (see above photo). She actually saves it up just for this occassion. 2 o’clock. Every day at 2 o’clock Maggie McFarland comes in to shop for her groceries. Unless its Munday. No one shops on Munday. No one does anything on Munday. Noone.
Maggie comes to the counter a second time, lays the too yellow orange on the counter between the red and the green. She put it back with the bananas and then changed her mind. That would be nuts to keep it there, she thought, and then actually slipped it in her pocket for a second, glancing around first. Mabel’s always gone this time of day, about 2:20. She could get away with it, she knew. Deep deep deep in her pocket.
But then thought better of it, temporary insanity over. “Done!” she shouted in the direction of the bathrooms and everywhere else, all the fruits and vegetables properly in a row now, starting with red and ending with green. Yellow in the middle, yellow in the middle… she picks it up again, makes a face. One last chance to steal.
“Me too!” Sound of water ends. Mabel has come back into the light. Is the banana colored orange still between the red and the green? An important question to be answered right after we come back from our sponsers. “Fun pie, it’s there when you need it, it’s there when you’re not.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0411, Jeogeot, Towerboro
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Holding his two hot drinks comfortably in either hand, cozies in place, he pauses before leaving to admire the view toward the ocean, the sea that surrounds his home continent of Nautilus like a circumference to a circle (or square). About at the same place Newt, earlier on it seems, saw those salt and pepper shakers tittering on the floor. Exactly the same spot. Not tittering: *crying*. He readjusts the cozie on either cup and proceeds to take his “little bambinos” — as he likes to call them — back to The Table room for the meeting with Wheeler. Guess I should have asked if she wanted anything, he thinks while walking toward the castle gate. Perhaps one of those unsweetened teas she likes so much.
But too late: inside the castle now, its walls sealing off exterior from interior. He didn’t even look over at the whale tail brushing the side Starbuccaneer Barista mentioned. Another tight but meaningful that Baker missed in the rush toward safety.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0033, 0411, Nautilus, NORTH, Rooster's Peninsula
00320411
The cracks of thunder behind the door should have been a clear warning for danger ahead, along with the illuminated cracks in the wall beside it. But Joey ignored them all, going through door after door to reach the ultimate end. John L. Brown tried to warn her, albeit faintly, albeit sarcastically. “Don’t go,” he whispered over after she went through, and then had a giggle. Count him among the nefarious agent types. Joey: good. But Ontario had become malfunctioning thanks to the deletion of half the town and so she was back here, trying to retrace her steps to the… tree. Or whatever the thing was: family tree perhaps, like in genealogy. She had to fill in the memory gaps. She resisted the urge to become plastered beforehand; wanted to keep her mind open just like the doors that were presented to her, 1 2 3.
Onlooking John, seen by us but unseen to Joey, tried to determine what species she was and correctly guessed Venusian because of the blue-green skin. Or blue and green skin. But orange eyes. Alien obviously.
There she goes!
“Don’t go,” he whispered as the door closed behind her, even hitting her rump a little bit. The giggles begin.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0411, Long Islands, Nautilus, Wendy-Ontario-, Wild West
Sunklands 