Category Archives: 0511


She thought of herself as ugly, a cow even.

Later, from her perch above, she watched her bathe, thinking, If I was only that beautiful. Xia and her cat. Always the cat, even in water. Sky, land, water — didn’t matter. Sometimes she believes she is the cat. I can’t leave, Myrtle thinks. I love her too much.

“All done!” came the call from below. Then she moves toward her clothes, cat still glued to the shoulder. Another constant, let’s call it. Myrtle watches everything with great interest. She use to not be this way. There was Ted, there was John — his twin, granted, but still another person. Then Harry the Lie Detector Magician. He hooked her up one day after much pestering. “Who do you love?” he asked her with great sincerity, tricking her. “You?” she answered basically as a question, making the meter jump. “Try again,” he said with some venom. Zimmy of course. Forbidden love. But then Zimmy changed into Xia. Soul shift. She use to not be this way.


“Tell me that you love me, Xia,” she said, looking over. 1/2 sincere, both knew. Xia was playing this game too. She’d learned from the best (Zimmy).

“Of course I love you, Myrtle. You’re my bestest friend in the world, even closer to me than Zimmy.” Myrtle knew Zimmy didn’t exist any longer physically so he really didn’t count. She said so.

“Oh, Zimmy’s around. I just saw him fiddling with that portal, trying to get that thing to work for *real* this time.”

Myrtle had watched *Xia* mess with the so-called portal on the porch over there just before she came for a visit. There was no Zimmy. Not any longer. Okay, she’ll play along. “Zimmy’s a good brother to you.”

“*1/2* brother,” Xia quickly added.

“1/2 brother,” Myrtle calmly corrected herself.

“He taught me everything there is to know.”

“I know.”

“I *know* you know.”

Silence between them. Xia’s feet daintily kicked the old wooden fence marking the border between their properties, reminding her that she needed to return home soon. But — so lonely over there. Only Zimmy. Like talking to a mirror sometimes, she lamented. They were only 1/2 kin to each other blood-wise but still so close that their skins almost overlapped, blood shared and then some. “Come over here,” he said just earlier, before the visit started, patting the rug below the non-blue ball.

It took about 5 days, but Xia, slowly but surely, began to think of Myrtle as a mom. *Her* mom. Zimmy’s too. This baffled Myrtle. She decided to retreat into the interior of the island for contemplation, to a parcel some call the Abyss. Maybe the term was applied later, after what happened to Myrtle. Myrtle became… dark after that.

While gone, she rented her place to an orange being. All Orange. Not useful any longer, the elves retreated back into Philip, their creator after all, if not a Dark Lord. They’d forgotten who their actual father was, and that he had been living amongst them all this time. Everyone absorbed the inevitable fall together. Dancing Chuck looked on at the mess, wondering how the heck he was going to put all these pieces back together. In the end, Zimmy became intermixed with Xia and visa versa. And Philip became part fish, part tall tale himself, the stuff of legend; many books and documents written about him. When Myrtle returned from the Abyss and kicked All Orange back to greener pastures… well, we better save some of the story for later…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, Nautilus, 0511, Wild West, 0038, Constantynople

Nightsity 01

“I seemed to have left my wallet back at the office, Lexi. Be a dear and cover for me again?”

“Sure thing, boss,” said the cyberpunk bartender back, use to such things. He’ll make it up to her in the end, she thinks. Surely he’ll make it up to her. “Soo. Whatta ya think of the act down there?”

If I wanted a Lt. Uhura I’d go back to Star Wars Academy and order me up a Princess Leia, he thought. “Okay,” he said aloud.

“Star Trek Theme,” said Lexi. “I recognized it from my time on Venus. Popular there. Star Wars is of course hated on that planet. Ever since Luke Skyhobbler declared Martian Law.”

“I recall.” Thus the reason Edward, some people’s Eddie, didn’t bring up Wars. He received his Kick-Ass grasshopper, extra shot of crème de menthe. Now he could do some serious pondering about his business and its future.

“You going to tell her or should I (again)?” asked Lexi, knowing the woman was going to get the axe. Boss only visits once a week, and almost always there’s a firing as a result.

He drank a deep drink, set the 1/2 empty glass back down on the counter. “You, I suppose. Ben here yet?”

“Benny?” said Lexi, knowing Ben since he was a little boy. Couldn’t ever get the hang of the grown up name. “He’s around.”

Edward reached into the other pocket to retrieve a cigarette. “Do you know where?” He lit, he puffs, kind of in her face, just to make sure she knows he’s a tiny bit irritated at the lack of details.

“Sure, sure,” she responded, trying not to cough even a little. No one smokes in here but the Boss anymore. Rules of the Boss, actually. Only he is allowed to break them. Typical.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0037, 0511, Nautilus, Upper Austra^

Shining 01


“Find anything in that holler down there?”

“Oh, a book. And a cave full of crystals. The book reminded me of Hucka.”

“Hucka? How do you know…?”

“I know a lot,” answered Shelley Struthers to recently husbanded boyfriend Arthur Kill, who sometimes steps out of character to play Lemont Sanford up in or toward Real Life. And now there’s a 3rd Life to deal with. On Our Second Lyfe’s computer if you know how to log in. And we do.

Arthur looked over, nodding. “The umbrella eyes, yes.” Library in her eyes, he knew. She doesn’t need the physical stuff any longer. All in the head.

“How ’bout you? Find anything? Up here?”

“Lemme think about that.”


“Just a lot of monuments and tombs,” he finally answered her after fleshing in his own local backstory a bit. “One statue seemed to not have a head, but then I realized the angel on top just had her head down and the bun in her hair appeared like a, er, untopped neck.” He picked this particular monument to talk about for a reason.

They just needed a little bit of time away from each other to contemplate by themselves, why they’re here in the first place. Heterocera. Home of the *Head* Line, the Heart Line. Shelley’s old home on the former — apt. still there, actually, at the triple point in Hooktip, even if she never is. That was a long time ago for her, her Firesign period with its silly puns and innuendos. She hadn’t moved on. Just absorbed… assimilated. ‘Nother one.


“Real Linden water down there, I found out.”

“Fascinating.” He found himself arching an eyebrow even. Making him think of another fake head removal, another “long long ago.” Soo many memories now. Encounter with “God.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0511, Heterocera, Pond District^, VHC City^


“So they have no records of you attending the University of Life, which is why most people stay in 1000 City.”

“No need,” she replied. “I knew everything I had to know by that time.”

“So you just broke away from the exploratory team — hid in that darkened alley you mentioned before.”

“I hid behind the bar,” she specified to the questioner. “The black hole. Like I said.”

“You called it a black horse before.”

“Did I?” she said innocently, bracelet sparkling once again. It detected brilliance in its brilliance. Plus a photo was being shot. At us; recorded becomes recorder.

“Why did you send those postcards from the city back to your parents?”

Weary of the grilling, she looked down at the table before answering. Real metal coins! she thought. Hadn’t seen the round stuff in a while. This guy must be lit. “I had to,” she decided to phrase it, encouraged once more. “Because of them.”

“Them who?”

“You know.” She didn’t elaborate. Keith B. obviously though of The Void and the powers that hid there. What little he knew about the place.

“I came to you for answers.”

“You will leave me with more questions,” she shot back. “Trust me.” But she’ll give enough to earn the coin.

“You… didn’t stay here,” he guessed after a pause. “This… Gemini.”

“Of course not. I encapsulate realities. I can go wherever I want through them. Down at the beach. Remember?”

“You engineered all of this,” he then speculated, knowing he was right. Liz was, how you say, a Goddess.

FLASH. The world turned inside out.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0511, Gemini, Hana Lei^^

key wet

A trio of men: Cowboy, Indian, Black. And behind them: still fuzzy. Maybe someone named… Frank?


“I’m remembering,” spoke Jennifer “Shelley” Struthers, turning into that Lane, seeing further than before, beyond the edge of virtual reality itself. Stinkerfoot.

Roll him over, look into his eyes. MENTION that the gnome had disappeared. Someone purposely took it. I looked all around the rocks it once inhabited in its 2 locations that we know of.

CRUX — think of relationship with Apostrophe album, the apostrophe itself according to Frank.

Did the Tigers get to him anyway, despite being taken away from the more prominent rock perch and tucked, hopefully safely, behind a nearby tree? The story of County Park basically ends there, as another location I had my eye on for a toy happening was blocked — someone else was already present, a nice enough bloke but obviously living off the land. I knew where he lived; he was telling me that, albeit unconsciously in all likelihood, unless he was an alien himself, ha. He filled my space quite effectively. He, in all likelihood, needs it more.

Back to virtual…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0511, Blue Mountain, County Park, Paper Soap, Soap

Earlier I had posed on green.

“You saw me today, Baker Bloch. No mistake.”

Baker looked across the table at Wheeler, whose face then changed. “Am Iiiii nothiinngggg?”


This was in a collage called “Moon Landing”, of course deleted now from virtual reality since Collagesity is gone.

And then in a nearby collage of the former Power Tower gallery called “Victory”.

And, in fact, another one from the same series (Lis), facing backwards this time (“Cereal Characters”).

Wheeler, herself now facing the other way, changed back. “Just so you’ll know I’m around,” she explained the transformation. “Now (slow turn). About that hissing…”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0511, Blue Mountain, City Park, collages 2d, Nautilus, North, Rooster's Peninsula


He was behind glass again, writing to his superior officer. Summary: he fell for it, the whole Captain and rock art story. Man About *Time* won’t be snooping around his *islands* for a while. Signed — no *Love*, Zapppa, with an extra “z” 🙂 🙂 🙂

Time to put Jenny back out to sea and head toward Jenny.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0511, Lower Austra^, Nautilus


After “Mr. Body and Man” closed on Tuesday, the theatre’s marquee was changed, heightening debate about the monument becoming the priority for the town, this Mountain in the Air. Because a new option had been added to the first two: Cyclone Stone, spelled wrongly in the marquee due to, at least in part, the hastiness of the switch. Bradley Pitt said: get it out there asap, let the town decide, not 2 wankers playing chesskers in a cornfield. He closed shop for the night and left his assistant Stu to remove the old letters and put up the new, working overtime again but of course not getting due pay for it. Bradley would pay for his stinginess. Stu did this on *purpose*, he realized in the morning, still holding his resignation letter in his non-fist pumping hand before it. And he *knows* I have arthritis and can’t do the job myself. Bradley decides then and there that Stu would never hold a proper job again in town, and would have to move elsewhere. In truth he’d already packed his bags and was heading through Diagonal as Pitt thought this, soon to pass the northwest corner of the county. So many lost down through the years now. The glory days were, I guess, around a Century ago by now. Which makes the monument, the rock *or* stone, even more important, a new *beacon* of hope for the seat and the county as a whole.

Which brings us to Roger Pine Ridge again, still waiting under the Rock or Stone (You Choose), still hoping. “Marty. Where *are* you,” he mutters between white stick tokes, watching a beat up old Chevy move away to the northwest beyond the square.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0511, Iowa


“We’re here today, dear friends, to choose,” Preacher Zoidboro urged, soon to be Non-Preacher Zoidboro to about half of ’em, friends turned to fiends (or foes). “We have, evidence #1, the ‘Text on the Mount’ shoved under my parsonage door by a mysterious black hand, the color of dark licorice. Evidence #2: the Mount itself, better known as the Monolith. It is the One to complete the Four, in my…”

“Blasphemy!” shouted Bill Bright from the back. Count him in the foe camp.

“Let him speak his say,” urged Martha Bennington in front of him, fresh from a shower and thus more relaxed. She didn’t even have time to dry her hair before the special Tuesday’s Wednesday’s meeting, but that was because she was up most of the night reading this blog. No, make that writing in her blog. Something about drumming… a man possessed by a circle within a circle design. Let’s make that a dream, which kept her awake thinking about it afterwards. She also woke up her husband John, sitting beside her, but never going back to sleep. He couldn’t choose between the 3 and the 4, he determined. Glancing at the Monolith while walking into the church this day in April’s May, he decided to remain neutral, let others do the choosing for him. He feared Martha fell on the side of 4, and the chiding of Bill Bright in back added to this theory of his. Plus the fact that the drumming dream was in 4/4 time instead of 3/4. She specifically said she remembered it that way, and mentioned the 2 times in particular. 4/4 instead of 3/4. “3/4 would turn it into some kind of, um, *waltz*… a joke almost,” he recalled her saying. Well, the Trinity in his book is *not* a joke, but we’ll see… let’s see what the others say. Bill Bright has voiced his opinion. Martha too by counterweight, it seems. Zoidboro is obviously on the side of 4. Old Preacher Benfield has shown up to stand, er, up for the power of 3. The battle lines have been drawn. But what of the church structure itself, built and kept up by the hard earned money of the parishioners who seem to be dividing into two now? Will we just, I don’t know, build a *wall* down the middle of it? John continued to speculate while the others had a pause to contemplate as well. Actually, it was more a pray, requested by Zoidboro and also Benfield. *Pray* on this division. Feel in your *Heart* what is true, they urged, which made about half of them think of the joke about a Spade walking into a bar with a Heart, at the top of the “Text on the Mount” just under the title. These were the ones who would choose 4. The ones that didn’t get the joke: 3. We have our camps.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0511, Paper, Paper Soap

job change every 3000 miles

“Fill er up, Burt.”

“You!” I exclaimed beside my old Papa.

Marion Star Harding stared into me while still strolling toward us, taking his time. I knew I shouldn’t say his real name. I’m remembering!

“You know this Bozo?” Papa also stared over at me, but with puzzlement instead of secret knowledge.

“No.” I looked between the two. “No, I was mistaken. I thought this was the man–”

Marion stares again. She’d said enough. She stopped.

“Thought this was the man what?” Keith asked, still with furrowed brow.

“I thought… this was the man who offered to drive me to your place,” she decided to allow. “Before you picked me up.”

“Burt?” uttered Keith B. “A *pilot*.” He started to laugh. Jennifer join in with him a bit — nervously. Then Marion Star Harding: just a chuckle and a smile. Because Keith B. would only expect that from the silent type guy.

“Whadda ya say to *that*, Burt?” he said between guffaws. He turns to Jennifer. “I’ve known Burt since he was a little boy. He can’t tell right from left, heck, up from down. Right Burt?” Laughter again all around, Keith B. the most, then Jennifer, then Marion. “He… he he… he once tried to build a submarine on top of a mountain and fly it into space (giggle). You remember that old wooden sub, Burt? (grin).”

Marion Star Harding remembered the sub. And indeed, he got it to fly into space, deep into space. But only at night when no one was looking and the stars were out. Because he had a particular Star in mind. His own.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0511, Purden/Snowlands^, Sansara