A woman without a head at the beginning of a trudge across an icy realm…
… acquires 2 by the end.
From a distance she watches herself approach, as in 2 1/2s of a one sided mirror.
Death. Comes to us all. (TBC(TBC(TBC)))
Category Archives: 0501
00490501 (Schrodinger III)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0501, Big Woods, Jeogeot, Missouri, Schrodinger III, Starfield
00480501
And so I, through Frank Lynn, went back to Jelloab from my home base in Jeolla 2 sims west and took another gander at Tobor, still trodding between sand and sea at this location. Well, not sea like Nawt Vaya sea, an inland body of water. This was an ocean, the great Our Second Lyfe Ocean that surrounds all mainland continents and all islands and archipelagos everywhere in this metaverse, the great unifying element one could call it. Note Jelloab and Jeolla start with the same 5 letters which can spell Jello, as in Jell-O, as in the gelatinous, sugary substance which can be consumed for dessert by us humans, invented in Le Roy, NY by Pearle Bixby Wait in the late 1800s. We should probably earmark a visit to that location via Google Earth or Google Street View soon? Anyway, I think I’ve had enough of the ocean for now. Goodbye beach girl! “What’s your name?” I decide to ask over before vanishing. “Greta,” she said, which I quickly realized was an anagram of Great, continuing that thread. From the ocean, I understood. A spirit, a conduit. “Greta, you say?” “Yes,” she replied. “Native of the area?” But she didn’t answer, just kept staring at the sea ocean in a silent kind of way again. Toward Tobor. I realized my time at this shoreline was truly done.
Snapshot of an inworld map of Jeollab and Jeolla before leaving with my current location marked by a blue person icon and my homebase almost directly to the west marked with a red house icon. You can see the whole Nawt Vaya inland sea next to my home, which, like I said before somewhere, is the largest inland body of water on the Jeogeot continent and the only one I would deem worthy of a sea appellation instead of a pond or lake. My opinion (my mythology).
Let’s keep all this geography stuff in mind as we move forward here. TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0501, Gaeta V, Jeogeot, Juho, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS, SG Park, South Lake, Vortexville
00470501
“So that’s it down there,” I said, rather unimpressed.
“Yeah,” she said. “I thought we better take a photo up here before we forget where we are. Kabusie — so complicated!”
“Yeah and you’ve lived here, what, 12 years?”
“After Major died…” We both became silent for a minute. Then: “Well, we better get down there and take a look. I need to get you back to the house before dark so you can play with your, ahem, BD’s, heh.”
Just that one night she caught me, I think here. I’ll never live it down. Moving on: “So I still can’t go out after dark here,” I started the now old complaint. “And me 21 1/2 years old?”
“You need to get a job — *day* job. Then you can spend nights at the apartment–”
“This place comes alive at night,” I countered. “What would I do in the day?”
My *point* is — if you’ll let me finish — you’ll be too wore out to do too much mucking about afterwards. Thennnn, when you’ve saved enough money and learned — a *lot* — more about the ins and outs of these mean streets — where to be safe, what places to avoid — *then* we can think about getting you your own place. Under *my* supervision.”
“Super*vision*?” I chafed again.
“Yeah, you know. In looking for an apartment. No, I don’t mean being with you all times of the night following you around or anything; we won’t be living together any more. Truly I want to let you grow up here before kicking you out of your new nest. Mother would kill me if I let anything happen to you. You know that… *baby* brother.” The emphasis on “baby” reinforced what our mother thought of me. Still a toddler in this world, still an infant. With monkey feet that you can’t put socks on. With a crib by the bed watching robots walk past then melt into wall corners. Ro-bots.
“Okay,” I tried to put an end to this worn out discussion. “What would I do in your mind? During the day?”
She readjusted her position on the rail we were looking over, as if preparing herself for a retaliatory blow. “Wellll, you could work at that factory that makes robots we talked about. Uncle Steve could help you get a position.”
Suddenly, with the synchronous conjouring of the word robot, I realized this was fate. I *had* to work at that factory. I breathed out. “I’ll think about it,” I decided to give her.
Lexi beamed while looking down. Her master plan might work out after all. “Okay, wonderful. Now let’s go take a closer look at *Crooked*.”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0047, 0501, C2077, Kabusie
00460501
“I’m going to rub than d-mn coffin right out of the painting, that’s what I’m going to do, hmm-mm-mm.”
“Paw?”
Andy twirls away from the flawed painting Uncle Herbert gave him as a wedding gift for his first marriage and toward his son from that marriage, trying to block his vision of what he was doing to it with his body as best as possible.
“Opie, what’re you doing out of bed?” Andy says in a harsher tone than normal, which of course Opie, being the sensitive child he is, picks up on. Something’s wrong, he senses.
“I-I just wanted some milk. And maybe cookies (!)” Should have been a laugh track there, Barry De Boy thinks from the couch, also understanding something’s wrong.
“Milk milk milk, okay okay okay,” Andy says while rushing over to corral his son and herd him toward the kitchen. “And then right straight back to bed. Do you realize what time it is?”
—–
After making sure Opie is good and tucked in again, Andy returns to the painting. But his rubbing has made the child’s coffin even *more* visible to his complete exasperation, uncovering additional layers of paint. “What the–” he says while staring at it, and then instinctively glances over his shoulder to make sure Opie didn’t come back down again. “That’s it that’s it, wedding gift or no, this painting’s got to *go*,” and he grabs it with both hands, intending to take it out to the squad car parked in the driveway and dispose of it in the dumpster behind Floyd’s first thing in the morning, before he even goes into the office. He’s just that determined — suddenly — to be done with the thing. Uncle Herbert hadn’t visited in months after all. But Aunt Bee, he thinks. Herbert was her favorite brother. She’ll notice, she’ll be upset; won’t let off until he puts the painting he gave us back up above the mantelpiece, pheh.
There’s another way, he realizes. Who can change a painting but a *painter*. “Barry De Boy,” he says aloud, probably to the camera.
“Barry De Boy??” Barry utters too. He looks down at the red tie, wakes up.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0501, Jeogeot, Mayberry, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS
00450501
Maybe I can wedge my way through those yellow and blue buildings over there.
Nope. Dead end. Oh well, maybe the green and red buildings down the way.
Bingo!
Free of Stompetoren and its Tiley ways, ha.
00440501
“Soooooo… youu headingggg (hiccup) backkk… todaayyyyyeee *weeeeeeee*?” he said in his drunky, sloppy way, suddenly spinning around as he spoke, almost toppling over. Typical for the morning. By afternoon he’d be popping the pills, becoming less slurry as the drug fueled words popped back out of his mouth more in staccato form, with consonants and vowels left out, soon to progress into whole words and even phrases and sentences. Word salad they become in effect, not slurry but just as incomprehensible and useless.
“Yup,” she uttered, coming onboard and up the stairs to directly face him. She wanted to know what he was drinking, wanted to smell it on his breath. Because she might need some too. Given what she was potentially facing today.
Vodka. And not a hint of vermouth to change it into her normal. She’d have to pass, pure being too strong for her liking.
“Well,” she said as he stumbles and falls. “Get to piloting… Cpt.”
“Right right right. Heading back, right. Riiiight *weeeeee*.” Another fall.
“You know — never mind. I’ll do it myself. Been there enough lately.” Still on the ground. “Yes, you just rest, Philip. It *is* still Philip? Right?”
“Right right (hiccup)… right,” he repeats, and then falls asleep on the spot, pills in his mouth as soon as he becomes conscious again at 12:01.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0044, 0501, Blue Feather Sea+, Maebaleia/Satori, X-City
00430501 (Island Boy)
He came here…
… in a boat. He was looking for someone. A woman both 3 and 1. Is this truly the right location? But the lightning strike knows, he remembers.
Into the setting sun he continues. Like a caboose on a train going round a dark mountain it is, soon to disappear out of man’s sight only to emerge the next day. Roundabout. 8 sided even, like the I Ching. The endless revolution of black vs. white. Lists. Into Liszt. We continue…
00420501 (Southern art gallery)
He was here to confiscate the so-called offensive painting and that alone, this Arthur *Kill*, disguised in another role. Even took the same first name this time. “Art like this shouldn’t happen in Saint Dennis,” the wife of a prominent town businessman said to the gallery owner on opening night. He countered that it was tasteful nudity, no naughty bits shown at all, “unlike, say, that one over there,” he said, pointing to another painting visible in the next room. “A bare bum! That doesn’t offend you but this does?”
“This one was done with more in mind. Chains!”
The gallery owner, raised in the North where his mama still lived (Illinois I believe), ruminated: I thought you Southerners *liked* chains and slavery. Maybe because the model isn’t *black*. But of course he kept all this to himself.
And so Arthur the policeman, gifted Shakespearean actor beneath the blue garb, was sent in by the powers that be to make a statement. Thing is, he helped seed the controversy in the first place, part of his overall plan.
“Oh Libra Neptune,” he quietly lamented from his position in front of the work while staring at it, contemplating the circumstances surrounding its composition. “I thought I paid you enough never to come back here.”
He also wondered if her unpictured cheeks had turned red again.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0501, Kangerootown+, Omega, RDR2, The Cross
00410501
“We’re only rescuing you from yourself, ma’am,” spoke Officer Howard earnestly, responsible for the check in. “What if, say, I ran up to Starbuccaneers just above us and Barista Wanda — or whatever her name is; I just made that up — Wanda, say, gave me a free coffee this morning, on the house just for being a cop. And then let’s say I take a couple of sips and then give it over to Officer Brendan, and Officer Brendan gives it to Officer Ferguson, and Officer Ferg — well I think you get the point. Pretty soon there’s free coffee all over town and Starbuccaneer’s is not making a dime off of it, business closed. So you see it’s dangerous, really dangerous, to offer stuff for free in a capitalist economy. Say, if we were in China or Cuba it would be different.”
“But we’re not anywhere,” Bermuda (Atlantis High Priestess) countered. “We’re right here. In Aisle of Palms on the Jeogeot continent. Neither here nor there.” Kind of like the Azores, she thought to herself.
“Well,” said Officer Howard back, taken aback a bit, “I don’t know about *your* user but *my* user comes from the good ol’ red white and blue US of A up there in the Americas, no communism in sight. Er, except for Cuba as I think I mentioned before. Anyway–”
“*Anyway*,” interrupted Bermuda, eager to get this over with and be locked inside her cell, safe from what she senses might be a growing mob. “I believe I get a phone call?”
“Indeed, ahem, indeed you do,” said Officer Ferguson, suddenly tired of lecturing the virtues of trickle down economies. He indeed got his coffee free from Starbuccaneer’s this morning from someone named Wanda, indeed shared it with Brendan who shared it with Ferguson and on down the line, everyone in town with their required caffeine high and no one else visiting Wanda this morning. Like the Loaves of Bread story from the Bible, Howard being a modern day agogo Jesus. Yet he still didn’t know he had that power. Too bad he didn’t also have the Savior’s power to resurrect himself because, after the decaffeinated 3PM afternoon break mob led by Jittery Joe was finished with him, he’d need it to continue.
“Let’s GET HIM!”
“YEAAHHHHH!!”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0501, Big Woods, Jeogeot
00400501
When Marsha “Pink” Krakow returned to what she knew was her true home now, Big Sandy on the oldest Bellissaria continent, her Mother was waiting. With a big surprise. “I bought this for you,” she said to her shocked daughter after she arrived, indicating the trailer. “Pink, you see, or as close as I could get to that hot variation you prefer.” Edward, her Eddie, was already blackening his patented vegetable stew dogs on what Wheeler told him was his new grill. He was already sold.
“Oh. And that pink scooter you’re standing beside! What do you think?”
Marsha was thinking of *price*, not necessarily money price but emotional price. And here it comes.
“I can see you’re speechless, dearest. Come sit beside me and we’ll talk.” Wheeler patted the lounging couch across from her and then pulled out an apple to eat. “Price?” Marsha wanted to ask her so bad. “Price price price?” And here it comes.
“Have you talked to Serenity since you’ve been here (chomp, chew chew chew)? Never mind, dear, I know you have. You told her about Shelley, my *actual* daughter.”
“*I’m* your daughter,” she wanted to protest at this point, but knew it technically wasn’t true — in a way. Shelley provided the body and added a lot to the personality as well. But Brown was also there inside. Conscience? Mere gestures? She wasn’t quite sure yet about the so-called 3rd component, the last of a trilogy. And then herself up front and on top of course, resurrected from what happened in photo-novel 19 that she doesn’t like to think about a lot. Cook for the Ozmo Devils. Dead in the head in bed like Jed. “Why didn’t you tell me about Serenity?” she actually said aloud. “That she wasn’t her cousin but her *wife*?”
“Oh it’s just one of those things that slips the mind (chomp; chew, chew, chew). Lots of important stuff going on up there,” and here she pauses in her apple eating to tap on her forehead. “I’m still the mayor of that damn Meat City and its dominant male energy. *I’m* more male than them, despite the body, the femininity,” she decided to put it. Marsha understood. Her mother had to put the town council (etc.) in their place or they’d gain the upper hand again, the blame misogynists. Dominant sex, *pheh*. Marsha had to do the same with her Eddie in a lesser way. It’s just how men are raised in our society in part, she figured. So she didn’t blame him *all* that much for his own, lesser brand of the disease of the mind.
Marsha had to ask this next”: “W-why, then, oh why… did you put me in prison? Turn me into a *doll* Feed me those drugs through my head to think that I *wasn’t* in prison but next door, singing karaoke until the wee hours of the night? With the fake doll looking on?”
“Rockaway Beach?” Wheeler started her answer, citing the name of the first place which was also its location. “Kenzie’s Korner in Kuradov?” she said the same about the second. Now the circumstances.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0501, Bellisaria, Sandfly
Sunklands 