Category Archives: 0413

November 4, 2025 · 3:05 pm

00480413

Things were a bit different on Nawt Vaya Free State land when Biker Mann returned to the revamped, reopened Hole in the Wall several days later in the month. And he hadn’t even met the red tie man within.

He looks out at the water, notices more different. A big, orange tile roofed building sticking out of the Nawt Vaya Sea. Related to the ties? he thinks. Turns out it’s related to the also new ties, yes. Red tie man hopefully will explain.

And what about the poor robot in front of him (!). Kicked out of the bar, but why? Inside now.

—–

“Biker, meet Barry. Barry, Biker. I think you two have a lot in common. Tell him, Barry.”

“We’re dreaming.”

Biker wakes up. He wouldn’t actually revisit the Hole in the Wall until day after today’s tomorrow. No ties will remain, but Barry is still inside. Daisy Flathead restates her introduction from the dream.

“Biker, meet Barry.” Biker gasps, only recalling the dream at that point.

“Am I dreaming again?” spoke Biker.

“Wait a minute, Biker Mann. I haven’t finished my lines. “I think you two have a lot in common,” she continued as before. “Tell him, Barry.”

“Not this time,” he answers Biker’s question, indicating both are awake now. He’d checked before he left the cottage to the left, up on the hill. No tie, unlike before.


before

Barry’s live-in girlfriend Wendy suddenly appears at the door, out of breath from running over. “I got here as fast as I could. Wake up Barry!”

But it was she who was asleep this time. No clothes.

“I have a spare dress in back, sweetie,” said sympathizing Daisy, who’d had her share of naked-in-public dreams. “Just for this kind of occasion.” TBC

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July 26, 2025 · 4:11 am

00470413

“Why yes I’ll accept your goblet of wine almost naked and equally tall Colossus before me, ha ha ha.”

Shelley Johnston Struthers wakes up drooped over her laptop, realizes she’s got to finish the current photo-novel before August 31st or overdue. Hiding the tempting body evilly illuminated by the black hole sun behind her, she gets back to it.

—–

“It’s YOUR fault, you know. The death of Susan here. You killed her!”

“No, YOU killed her!”

“Did not!”

“Did so!”

“Did not!”

“Did so!”

—–

Oops. 7 o’clock already. Time for Newt to watch TV with Wheeler. Better say my goodbyes and head out. Maybe for the last time, PHEH.

(to be continued)

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April 26, 2025 · 9:10 pm

00460413

“Hey motherf-cker. Long time no see!”

No, You’re not who I’m looking for this go around I don’t think. I can return here if needed, though. Thanks!

Nor you, Redd from GTA V among other places, although there’s a seat opposite you I could certainly plop my behind down in where we could catch up with each other if needed. Again, saved a timestamp.

Fish in the ceiling at the Advocet Hotel bar is certainly interesting but there’s no one around that I know atall here. Another time marker.

Then exactly halfway in my journey through Vista Del Rey via this BD video that continued the first, I find the Dandelion Cocktails bar. And Redd there sitting on the side of it (!). Must be Redd I’m looking for after all. I approach her — again.

Dandelion Cocktails is a Witcher 3 easter egg in Cyberpunk 2077, by the way. Referencing this poetic dude.

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January 6, 2025 · 11:28 pm

00450413 (We are here (!))

Jeogeot’s only true inland sea. I’m not sure why I haven’t focused on it before, hmmm. It’s time has come I guess I’ll say presently to that thought.

Still in their matching Mr. Moon t-shirts, joint owners Newt and Wheeler ponder the meaning of milk and bread at the new location of Crooked. The TILE Manifesto is about to be studied in earnest, I feel.

A remaining question to be answered: will Wheeler’s Bulls Bar return at the place pictured above? It seems to be destiny in a way. The objects making up the bar are shared by Baker Bloch (Newt) and Wheeler, which makes it harder to store and transfer to a new location. The outside remains unfinished: just giant white and red cubes stuck together. Probably should just ditch it; go with interior alone. Especially since it’s such a scenic setting here.

part 2: parents

“Hey Newt?”

“Yes Wilson, er, Wheeler?”

“We need…”

“… to talk about Shelley, I know.” Pause. “Let’s let her finish her run first. There she is. Go Shelley!”

“Thanks!” she acknowledges through the transparent tunnel walls while continuing to motor along.

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October 26, 2024 · 9:15 am

00440413 (Arroyo)

“Chop!” I said, looking into the Dewdrop Inn room I’d force-opened and recognizing my dog at last. Well. At least the *map* of my dog. Martha’s Vineyard. Always wondering what it meant and why the feet were there. And the head with the two Chop names, East and West, like paired lips or ears or sumtin. Well that head is *this* head, those feet — clearly — are *these* feet.

My dog is a robot. And a sexy one at that it appears, at least to those of its kind. But maybe Chop is instead the robot in the chair — watching. Maybe the map is that of his true love, something he wants to *eat* — chomp away at. Like breakfast, hmm. Rose, I remembered. Better get back and finish my meal.

“Never mind me,” I wanted to say to the robots in parting. “Wrong room.” But I knew they couldn’t hear me. This was a spectacle, something only to be observed and that alone. Same as, er, Chop is doing here. I’m engrossed, he’s engrossed. Seems to fit, yeah. I shut what remained of the door and leave the motel and head next door again.

(to be continued)

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July 10, 2024 · 8:58 pm

00430413 (The End?)

“Arroyo is a dead end,” Fern said to me through her dreams last night. “You’re going to have to swing back and forth wildly across Nightsity like a wobbly pendulum in order to approach the issue from all angles. Only then can you understand the city, but it will not be solved in this one photo-novel. Our Second Lyfe is dead.” That’s what she said. There’s no going back. She told me where to swing next. Lightning strike while crossing into Kabuki. But I can’t call it that, I suppose. Got in trouble with Arroyo from the locals. Fern already has a place there, a business, but won’t tell me specifics. Her gal pal Lichen is probably around too. And I was indicated they still have the list. Both of ’em, which are actually one of ’em. Black and White together. Here’s the strike. Took a bit of effort to catch the quick thing.

Fern is an ascended master for sure, beyond me in most ways except comedy. That part belongs to Lichen. And perhaps there we can find the spark that might kindle back my love of Our Second Lyfe. Because it’s certainly still there. Through Wendy, the third. But for now, in this post, we must acknowledge the death on some level; move on. Fern has fused with [Certain Death] on the search for the All Seeing Eye. Both share the golden gun that guides them through dream after dream after dream, like entering rooms in an endless mansion. For him, though, it started in a different game, on a highly neglected “third” summit called Gordon. Lighting strike again. We’ve seen this before.

Back to entering, err, *Kabusie*.

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April 9, 2024 · 4:07 am

00420413

“Bridges, Wheeler. Tonight’s theme is bridges.” (*click*)

—–

“How about this. The last thing you see before a 30 day dream ends are bridges. What do you say to that?”

“I say we’re about to see Linen again.”

“The man in charge,” agrees Baker.

“But,” corrects Wheeler, “that wasn’t the actual end of the dream. Instead: ship. Sunken.

“Natural World is next. Horses!”

“Vast,” agrees Baker. “Most important. Connector,” he elaborates.

“Map to end,” says Wheeler.

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January 4, 2024 · 12:38 pm

00410413

He knew he shouldn’t do it but once he got the idea in his head it was stuck there. Paint — watercolors of course — this red headed bathing beauty in front of him as an abstraction, red all over and with a round head instead of natural. Chroma, he knew. His former existence. “Okay, keep still,” he requested to his paid model for the day. “I’m about to start.”

Wannabe boyfriend but way-too-plain, way-out-of-his-depths Butchie Hawkins looks on very interested from the other side of pool dipping Carrcassonnee (she’s back!). What he lacks in looks he makes up in mind powers, namely psychic abilities. He’s going to ask her out after all this is over. He’ll be more on her level then. Because this wasn’t just a painting. This was *real*.

—–

Later:

“What have you *done*?” she cried, no longer the person she knew and loved and admired inside the finished product. “Where *am* I?”

“Just follow the yellow ball,” he said from his side, also part of the art work now. “Follow it all the way into the grave.”

She backed out of that death scene as fast as possible but she was indeed the ball now. Stuck.

“Thanks for *nothing*,” she said as she bounced away, cash in hand but wanting a lot more for what he did to her image. Greg Ogden had made a breakthrough today at the Aisle of Palms Pool. He didn’t have to paint pretty all the time. He could paint ugly.

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October 18, 2023 · 1:43 am

a punk is born (zooming in on yellow (1st thing in the morning))

Many famous musicians have walked the roads of Gaston, and many famous musicians have left from such roads. Not George, though: he remained glued to the town through his car as it were, white in the daylight here but silver at night, as silver as Maxwell’s Hammer.

And now his soul has returned as the strumming punk known as Ketchup Tom because of his red mohawk if not visa versa, Marsha “Pink” Krakow his new drummer in tow, owner of her own VW Bug and one she perhaps is glued to as well, and even perhaps the *same* bug. Paired silver and gold as we’ve mentioned before — or white and yellow in the daytime. The Portal. Mimosa. Probably dusk and dawn as I’m writing and thinking this out.

George also existed here as Duncan Avocado, a character very important to the blog and attached photo-novels up until and including 31. 3-1 (March 1). His birthday which was also kind of his death day, at least in my eyes. He lay in a blue-yellow tent on the floor of the Collagesity library after that, a virtual structure last seen in Constantynople which has recently been destroyed/derezzed, with a final friend in the library *still* a friend — but simply too busy with a young kid to have much time for anything else, including our promised hikes. Important thing: I don’t hold it against him. And I should probably get over my disappointment with Duncan too. Put it in the rear view window. Thing is, we’re *doppelgangers*.

Red blue yellow houses in a row to begin. Again.

“Ugh, my head. W-where am I? And *who* am I?”

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August 13, 2023 · 4:57 pm

dream ended

Welp, my stay on the island of Constance didn’t last as long as I hoped it would. Leaving in a week. Immediate neighbor called my town there *junk*. Another neighbor has blocked it off with a big screen. Shame. But where to next? Maybe take a little break from virtual land ownership, rent smaller places for a while? NWES City remains an option, a strong one. Perhaps the most logical one. Just like I’ve done before. But playing around with this “island-state” certainly was fun, I’ll say! Our Second Lyfe is soo mutable.

I’ll take the redecorated CROOKED with me wherever I go. And I can keep exploring the island from a distance, without all the involved money. I’ll regroup elsewhere. Though it might take a while to get back to this finely balanced point. Goodbye Myrtle and the rest! Let’s see what happens this week to tie a bow on the process.

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