Category Archives: 0505

new!

The buffet was already laid out on the serving table at The Cones, my latest local eating and drinking establishment but this time for core avatars only, where they can let down their hair and be themselves and mingle amongst their other selves without the need for masks and separate identities. Take silhouetted Andy Warhole here on the upper deck, waiting for his date Marilyn to show up. But actually they were one core avatar and each knew the other knew this. In the moment. So while he waited, he was actually waiting for the single user of both, the single core used by this user, to simply change his costume to Marilyn’s, switch chairs, and then combine snapshots of each into one composite photo to make it seem the two were on a date. This happens over and over in the outside world, with little recognition by the avatars themselves. But here, at Sunklands Institute in the great Iris waterlands — swamp some derisively call it, like Roger Pine Ridge back in the days — separation could be relaxed and examined more from a distance, a perspective. Photo-novel 13, in fact, is all about getting back to core — that could be a subtitle.

The sun had just set when Warhole switched chairs and the collaging process mentioned above took place.

“Marilyn, so glad to see me, ahem, you again.”

“It’s purrr-fect here,” she cooed while staring out at the spot where the sun had just set, seeing no aftereffects commonly known as twilight, or the refraction and scattering of the sun’s rays caused by the atmosphere. Strange — this wouldn’t happen in the real world. Real Life. She decided to ask about this.

After Andy Warhole uttered the almost obligatory 5 or 6 repeats of her name, all in the same monotone, he responded properly. “No this isn’t real for certain, this — *world*.” But not being very philosophical he had no more to say about this. The DJ for the night showed up, and he mumbled, “About time.” It was Hilter, Chancellor of all of Germany by this point in time but not the all encompassing evil dude we know and despise by a slightly different name. So: 1939. Twenty years after the publication of the infamous Red Book.

Actually I have to bring in another core avatar to play Hilter, since Baker Bloch doesn’t have that costume or what’s more commonly called, in Our Second Lyfe terms, an “outfit”. So Bracket Jupiter is logged on since he does — two core avatars here are logged on simultaneously, which is common and even necessary in my work. He takes his position while I make another collage of Marilyn and Andy in the background. I add facelights to both to help highlight their position. Hilter waits calmly for it to be over before starting his first tune. And what would that tune be, you might ask? 1939… lemme check. INSERT PHOTO HERE

I believe it was Pink Floyd’s “On the Run” combined with Judy Garland’s “Over the Rainbow,” but difficult to say definitively because of the confusing effects of yet another collage.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0505, Heterocera^^, Iris^

orange crested

“I’m glad you’re black again, Parasol. Now I can get rid of that White Elvis hairdoo. Back to the old self, ahh!” He settles back in his beach chair, taking in the waves.

“How about the ant? There’s always the ant to deal with. Ant,” Parasol by his side reinforces.

The Mann looks from the waves up to the mountains. “I’ll deal with that later.”

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Filed under 0020, 0505, Corsica^^, Northwest

more

“I *want* to get better,” bubbled a depressed Messed Up from a similarly colorful and confusing couch. “I — have a new love in my life. I’m motivated!”

“That’s great, Ms. Up,” responded Dr. Young Kane (played by Axis aka TronAxis). “I’m glad you have a reason to change. Makes my job easier.”

“You — may know him actually,” Messed Up sloshed haltingly again, knowing more than she let on.

“Oh?”

“Yes.” And then she spilled his name.

—–

“Young *Harris*,” spat out Dr. Young Kane later to his imaginary wife sitting below him, more cartoonish tonight than usual but still sporting the perfunctory blue-green hair.

“The reason you came *here*,” she returned. “Where are we going with this?”

“I — was going to ask you that.”

“I think — we should go to bed now. We can think better in the morning. With our coffee, eggs and tea.”

“*No*,” Axis said firmly. “We’re going to *figure* this out *tonight*.” His voice was pitched just below a yell now. “*Why* is she here?”

“New patient,” said Venus cooly from below. “You need the money.” She stared at The Sun between them, the rays. “It’s the Corona–”

“*Stop* saying that word. I’m sick to death of hearing it.”

“–V Drink,” she dared to finish. “The deal is almost done.”

—–

He finds himself in a different place, sporting the Esso t-shirt once more. Peter Oesso now, formerly Peter Osseo formerly Peter Esso. “Like an opossum,” he explained to Randolph the pirate beside Storybrook’s Gatcha Warehouse about the newest name. Fresh from another hand washing he is.

“Possum; opossum. I *think* I get it.” He turns toward the effigy of Mr. Fix It against the Black Elephant with the graffiti art. “So that’s It, huh? The man you killed to get that gas station.”

“I *didn’t* kill him. It was just a — convenience.”

“Convenience *store*.”

“In the future,” Peter Oesso admitted to the bastard buccaneer.

“So, are we on for 500 more cases of the often deadly brewskies? Or are you done with it now? The killing and all.”

“I — have a confession.” And it was here Peter Oesso told Randolph the Bastard Pirate about the conjoined trunks streams.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0019, 0505, Corsica^^, Southeast, Storybrook

big… mammoth even

“I believe, let’s see, *this* one is mine, Parasol. ‘Olive *Green* Pink.'”

“Good to know.” Parasol had finished with her chicken and was starting with the eggs. Three of ’em. Knik — Big Black Skome.

She still couldn’t see the Ants for the Eleph in the room.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0505, Corsica^^, Henrietta

happiness

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0505, Rosehaven^^

Gastonites

“Well here we are lady,” spoke Uncle Zach, currently (and miraculously!) posing as a taxi driver. “The Joint Joint. It’s haunted you know. That back room. Back in the back. There’s people back there that shouldn’t be there.”

“I don’t care,” Heidi replied innocently with naive voice.

“Two eggs, they say,” he started again, hands extended and wavering to accent the spookiness. “Floating in mid air without any wires.”

“I’m not scared of eggs.” So child-like. Very surprising (again).

“You haven’t seen *these* eggs. Different colors they are. One glowing red, the other: green. Two colors that don’t go together well —  at all.  And: are you going to get out or not?” His haunted story had run its course. For now.

“Goodbye Mr. Taxi Man. ”

A boy appeared in the chair beside the door. Heidi changed as well.

“Shall we enter, Georgie Porgie?”

“After you, um, Heidi Widie.”

He always had trouble keeping up.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0016, 0505, Gaston^^

introductions

She had come to see the band but they were away. Well, Jim A. was *permanently* away, replaced by this mysterious Jim B. who was 20 years younger. And what about herself? Also 20 years displaced. It was 20 years ago today (etc.).

The Band; a make-believe one inside a real one. But the make-believe one had come to overshadow the real, like a Virtual Reality within Reality Reality begins to take over and work its powers outside in as well as inside out. Glove.

Satan.


“Hell-o hell-o hell-o.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0505, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Pipersville/Sink X^

repatriation

“So it was actually the very next night the drums changed over. To the celebrated circle within a circle.”

“Yes,” states Biff Carter, still drinking and explaining at the bar. “They were celebrity spotting in that small park outside the Seraph Club on the other side of town, the *uptown* area, when Jenny noticed the poster.”

—–

“Hey dad. You’re more into British stuff than American, aren’t you? More Union Jack than Stars and Stripes?”

“Sure, baby. If we were in Real Life.”

She pointed above her father. “What about *that* for a logo, then?”

—–

“And, as you can hear, there’s improvement even in the drumming tonight. The symbol actually makes the man in this case. He’s entered his ascent. And, sadly, this trajectory would eventually cross his equally ascending daughter’s at the Room.”

“Back to the Room, then.”

“Sure, baby. I mean — just sure.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0505, Cassandra City, Maebaleia/Satori^^

7 Stones: Artist “Alley”


Audrey’s

Paying respect (Karl, Terry, other pirates).

I suppose *this* could be the alley. Behind the structures instead of in front.

Yes.

But Woody’s blocked this completing underpass if so.

Woody appears to be the new Pitch Darkly, in that *his* house is connected to the Blue Feather instead of his bloodied vampire friend’s Darkly Manor. Interesting new twist — probably one of many the town will provide. Although full of familiar structures and viewpoints, 7 Stones has a new air to it. Beyond Collagesity.

I hope so, since so much is at stake.

—–

“And House Greenup has also returned, Cardboard,” chirps Woody Woodmanson cheerfully to his ever-present, flattie house companion.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0505, Lower Austra, Nautilus^^

1 o’clock

“What troubles you my friend,” she imagines the statue asking her after the funeral. This Angel of Death.

“Oh, just a decision looming. Whether to connect to a motherland. Or fatherland. The separation happened a number of years ago.”

“I remember,” states the statue in her head. “Caledonia. But you’s guys have moved your kingdom — or queendom — forward. Caledonia has essentially stayed the same. It would be like connecting to the past. This Winterfell.”

“Rosehaven now,” says Merry Gouldbusk, soon to *be* Queen. And with that the fantasy was over. She was alone again.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0505, Rosehaven^^