Category Archives: 0512

00500512 (The Sage Page)

“So there I am again. You can tell me by my bent up nature, just like an Ozian Wheeler traveling around on all 4s, and also bent to the rule of the Witch Mombi and perhaps the Nome King through her. Old Wheeler,” she summarized about the figure in the center of the collage before us, called “Crash on Mars.” Not because it depicts something crashing into Mars but because of another figure to the left of “Old Wheeler” called Crash who holds in his hand a giant fishing rod from our perspective, horses let out of a barn I suppose. She first brings him up in the next paragraph.

“(the 19th Century U.S. religious figure) David Brainard is seated in the foreground,” she continues, “who seems to be the same as (brainy) David Bowie, the Spaceman, the Man who lived on Mars. The Starman, as in Dark. Black. Look at the top. At the end of Crash’s fishing rod which passes through (the word) RUST.”

I saw the black star at the top of the work where Wheeler (*New* Wheeler) indicated, fronted by a blue-green hummingbird. I ask about it next, prefacing this by saying that it seems to me it should be a fish here instead. “What gives?” I end my query.

“Let’s turn to the next Bogota collage,” she replies and starts walking to our left, pulling up in front of it. I go stand beside her, basically shoulder to shoulder again so we can keep trying to see as one.

“More Life on Mars,” she says. “Remember when I told you to bring me Book 03 from the town library and place it on my table? Well there it is. It’s a summary of all knowledge, all books.” The collage changes.

“And there is the second part of the animation which is actually the first, showing my point. Lisa the Vegetarian is the Tungaske artist who absorbs it all — inputs it; eats it — and then provides an output for us to peruse and perhaps dig into deeper if we wish. Beyond surface reading, you see. Surface of Mars. Crash again in back, facing toward you this time — sans rod, I’ll add, with no horses around this go around. As if waiting for you to act. Can you act? How deep can you go? TBC

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0512, animation, Canada/Tungaska, Cement Village, collages 2d, Cricket, Google Street View, Jeogeot, MARS, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS

00490512

“She called me Martin. Not Murdoc. It quite irritated me, and I think I figured out why. Murdoc Alphonse Niccals I was born, you see, but later changed Alphonse to Faust when I sold my soul to the Devil for rock ‘n roll fame, as any red blooded, white nosed lad of his time would have, he he — just kidding about the white part, mind you (sniff). So to name me something else would maybe break the spell, the, er, *blessing* that the Dark Underlord had bestowed upon me. But — ahh — maybe that’s what she was actually trying to do, see,” he realized while talking it all out. “Martin, eh?” He turned the word around in his mind, examining different angles, different facets.

“And this was Blue Moon doing the, um, renaming?”

“Did I say that?” he responded, eyebrows raised. “I meant Blue Flower… eh hehehehe, *Moon* Flower. Yes, that was her name. Not the other ones. Although 2-D was certainly *her* blue flower. Sacrifice you see. Lamb. Just like…” He petered out here. He couldn’t remember anything else for a while. I put him back in his orgone chamber for recharging. I knew the upside down cross on the front would keep him there. The Fallen One.

—-

“Peter, yeah,” he starts when returning and after a sniff. “Sorry I…” He trails off again. Back to the chamber.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0512, California, Kentucky

00480512 (happy (cobalt = Kabusie?))

There’s Wheeler, my better (female) half, carefully walking the 8-5-6-7-4-1-2-3-0/ blue-yellow-red-green-cobalt-violet-orange-marroon-white segments of the ground level labyrinth again.

But there’s not a lot else in this 2 story Temple of TILE mostly under the waters of the Nawt Vaya Sea. No piano like before, no place to sit atall. 39 prims to play around with on the property. I could bring back both the piano and pipe organ with that, ALL KEYBOARDS.

Wheeler stops before crossing from green into cobalt again. “Is this suppose to be *me*?” she calls up. “What kind of girl do you think I am, hubby of mine?”

You know what kind of girl you are, I wanted to say back down. But instead I said: “I’ll remove it asap. It’s certainly in bad taste anyway, considering what happened to Freddy.”

“There.” We wouldn’t see a difference from the above angle but there’s a difference. With the subtraction of 1, Mercury X. Rising stands alone on one leg with no 2 to follow.

Now walk, Mercury X. Rising, walk. Live again! Wheeler should have been passing by this transition spot in the labyrinth right about… here.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0512, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS, Temple of TILE

00470512

Everyone Says “Hi” 24 x 24 on panel.

A painting inspired by the David Bowie song and part of the PBJ show with Jay Jacobs, Feb 2016.

It was weird, as I was painting this I couldn’t get any of the characters to smile. Later I found out that Bowie had passed away that day.

Here is a link to the song. https://youtu.be/um05lJzXD0w

—–

Just in his own little island, Jeffrey Phillips remained happy, clutching his Philip Linden doll to his partially bare bosom and remembering his connection with another Phillip named Jeffries, his name kind of reversed or where it came from. White was his world; pure; removed of color and complexity and foldouty nature. But all around this everyone was sad and unable to smile. Jeffrey knew something had to change. The Real World must intrude on this rosy environment. Again.

“INSERT THE THORN,” a voice boomed up in the air somewhere. *sliiiidee*

Ahh: there it is, brown instead of white like all the rest. A sticking point as it were, an impasse.

—–

And just like that Shelley was banned not only from that “new” sim but the kingdom/queendom as a whole. Good to know how they feel about her. Like another Brown, Molly this time, an unsinkable force to reckon with, however. I must MAKE SPACE for her whims and fancies while remaining active in this Our Second Lyfe. But not there obviously.

So Rose Heaven is no more for me. And David Bowie remains dead.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0512, Georgia, Jeogeot, NWES Island, Rose Heaven-

00460512 (Big Boss 02)

“Oh my GOD, you’ve *got* to be kidding,” says Fran to Cloe after Benny Right Horn tried to persuade the 2 girls in the same way as his actually handsome brother Jer Left Horn did over 5 years before. Nudity permitted on the docks: he’s taking “advantage” of that allowance as well.

Cloe said, “what? what?”, not looking away from her phone or turning around. She was still searching for that video of the cow blowing the farmer’s hat off without moving its mouth, ha. She knew Fran would find it hilarious.

“He’s actually got *2* censors to cover his ass it’s so massive, one for each cheek.”

“Speaking of asses…” And Cloe shows Fran the found video.

“Wow,” says Fran after the 7 second clip was over. “That was loud.”

“And windy (!). Soo… what were you saying?”

“Never mind.” Fran had enough of “bad” asses for a while.

But he had an ace in the hole. Or in the front. Oh no oh no, Benny don’t do it. But he did.

“Oh giiiirrrrls.”

Fran’s jaw drop when she saw Benny’s “pipe”. Benny was an old porn star. Like recently featured blog actor Drew “Grumpy” Cleveland currently residing in the Omega continent’s Castletown. You remember: from photo-novel 43. In fact, let’s have it that Drew started out as Benny’s stunt double. And perhaps also visa versa, each taking turns with each other, depending on the nature of the film. Drew liked front and Benny liked back. The arrangement worked out swell for several years. They easily edited the horn that grew out of the right side of his head in post-production. When *needed*.

And because of the turn, he’d get that information about the cat-people (aliens). Now to the caves to find them for real. No pussyfooting around this time!

“See ya later… giirrrls,” he said in parting after putting his clothes back on front ways. Slooowly.

“You bet!” said still slack jawed Fran. “What-ever,” said still phone playing Cloe, looking for more funny videos for her dear dear friend Fran.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0512, End of Time+

00450512 ((more) animals)

Horses.

Bison.

And, as we’ve already seen: sheep (like Fred). But no humans except for this fellow casting his own shadow against one of those old fashion Dutch windmills this time and who doesn’t really count except to one.

That was about to change. As instructed by tech wizard and friend to the gang Lester from up above (or sideways or whatever) in Lost Sanos, Grand Theft Auto, he waits at the Ells bridge for the other human now inhabiting this Netherworld to drive up. But, standing here looking out at the canal heading in the right direction to end this, he’s had a good long time to think about the decision. He’s God-like or at least a God wannabe here. What is he when he returns to the, er, surface? Just Philip Strevor, small time criminal with big but in all likelihood impossible dreams for greater glory. And he’s a *bad* person up there — he admits that now. Down or over here — Hell, Heaven or wherever — it’s all morally ambiguous. He has to see this through, he’s realized. Find out what’s at the finish line. SE corner it is!

earlier:

“Okay, Mikie, I’ve arranged to have a *gold* car waiting for you when you crash. Not silver, not copper, not any other shiny metal. But: gold. If you choose silver you’re in the wrong one and you’ll derez in about 15 minutes I’ve estimated and that won’t be pretty. So make *sure*.”

“Got it,” said Mikie. God knows he knows what gold is like, he thinks. He’s dreamed about having it in great abundance all his live long life (live long life again?).

“I’ll set the coordinates to crash you as close as I can but I can’t risk landing on top of the rigged thing. So it will be at a distance, I don’t know, maybe 5-7 minutes away tops. That’ll give us 8-10 minutes wiggle room. Once you’re in the car you’re safe. The car’s body will become one with yours, just like (with) the plane before. You’re merely making a *transference* of the container.” He turns away from the computer and his typed out plans and toward Mikie to emphasize his point. “Do – you – understand?”

“I- I think so.”

“You *think* so… or you know so?” Lester wants a yes, which he gets with, at first, slow and then more steady nods and finally a verbal confirmation.

“Yes,” Lester mirrors, turning back. “You’ll understand or you’ll die. You can’t live without a body there. Only Philip can do that because, well you know.”

“Because he’s already dead,” finished Mikie for him.

“Yeah. So *don’t* let that happen to you. This isn’t easy to set up, believe me. If I wasn’t a genius of the *highest* rank–”

“I know I know,” says Mikie. “You’re a genius, Lester.” And Mikie wasn’t being his usual sarcastic self for a change. This was big, he knew. This was bigger that his dreams of huge amounts of gold, potentially. This was a gateway to the afterlife we were talking about. Something that could reshape the world as we know it — and bring them untold fortunes in the process. They could *control* the access.

—–

“Okay, Mikie,” he says to himself after disengaging from the plane and looking around. “There it is over there between those 2 buildings. Better hustle.”

“Made it! And 11 minutes to spare, ha ha.”

He goes inside.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0045, 0512, Europe, Holland, MFS

00440512

He sat down on the toilet even though he didn’t need to go to the bathroom. Mechanism, you see — no inner fleshy workings of that type to maintenance. He needed *oil* yes. Oil to think. Because he was lost. Lost in a forest that had inexplicably, to him, turned white. Too early for snow he knew. Maybe some kind of virtual blight? But here he is, trying to cogitate with the limited power he had left. Suppose to meet someone named Fern here who would take him to an isle named after food. 2 isles actually, she said, a 2n1, she described it. Breakfast… and some other type of food he couldn’t recall.

He also couldn’t recall how to contact Fern for help. She was not the same core as him; he had that at least. Something about flesh again. Yes, he went into the bathroom to think about flesh, hmm. The bathroom and its toilet would help him remember.

If he just had his trusty oilcan he could squirt some in his left right ear and the gears would begin to spin properly up there again. But he lost it somewhere in this forest, too confusing with its whitewashed nature to retrace his steps to that tree stump he left it by.

*Sally*, he then recalled. He could ask his *wife*. His better, mechanoid half. Yes, of course. Sally. Speed dial so he didn’t have to come up with the number. He could ring her up in his head they were so close. Almost the same brain workings.

—–

Sally woke up with a ringing in her head, cursed the extra glass of diesel wine she had before bed, then realized what it was, *who* it was. “Hello?” she spoke to no one around.

“I’m in trouble, er…” Long pause.

“Sally,” Sally said, understanding that he *was* in trouble if he forgot her name in the moment. Lack of brain power, lack of oil most likely. Where *is* he?

“I don’t know,” he spoke back, understanding her thought. “Somewhere white. The trees… are white.”

She intuitively remembered the “blight” starting in upper right central Maebaleia, in the middle of that new super city developing there. “Hold on,” she thought back. “I’ll be right over.”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0044, 0512, Blue Feather Sea+, Maebaleia/Satori, X-City

00430512

He actually turned the other cheek after I verbally abused him. When did monkeys, representing animals in general in this scenario, become more dignified than humans?

Knowing Fern performs before the green screen again while pal Frank Lynn observes.

‘Phil. Phillie,” she calls again from the rail.

“And *cut*,” the director directed. “Anyone got any rock cocaine because that was *brilliant*.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0043, 0512, GTA

00420512

Pitch Darkly and especially (of course!) born fisherperson Mary Ball Darkly were so successful on their extended angling vacation that they had to rent a truck to bring the caught loot back home to Aisle of Palms. “Hope you brought your appetite back with you too,” issues Mary while staring at the smelly crates piled 3 high in its bed, knowing they had limited space in the manor’s freezers.

Now to get down to serious issues once more: the Ball situation. They were four weeks late getting back as it was. Too much fun! Couldn’t let it end despite the potential cost. It’s all virtual reality anyway, said Pitch to Mary after their huge haul at Fox Island (alternately Squirrel Island) in Endlessly Antipodal. So it was on to the Amazon Basin and piranhas/electric eels after that to finally get the cold of Walsh County ND out of their bones and blood, and then All Orange to finish up, a virtual fisherperson’s paradise as indicated by Mary’s knowledgeable friend Sandy Beech way way back in the days. Just got around to getting there. Sandy’s never wrong about these things, she knew. Best fry cook in the whole of Great Belt where he comes from, she’s heard from not one but several sources.

“Are you sure this is right, Mary? Fish in a *volcano*?”

“Emm, maybe I got the wrong color in that name. All Green?” she tested, burning through yet another line. “Brown?”

“Let’s go, Mary. Well have to rent a truck to get back our vast haul as is. We have enough.”

“Alright.”

“Plus the Ball situation; Baker wanted us back there a month ago.”

“I know I know.” Mary starts packing up the tackle…

… just in the nick of time as it turns out. *Great balls of fire* that was close to where they were standing! And more on the way. Get off that erupting mountain quick guys!

But, as we know, they got home okay, phew. Mary wasted no time in placing a call to so-called expert Sandy Beech.

“All *Blue*,” he erupted back when hearing the color she chose to remember in their by now long ago conversation about the place. “There’s no fish in a volcano!”

But, savant that she is, Mary still caught a couple.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0512, Big Woods, Great Belt, HANA LEI, Jeogeot, Middleton, Xilted

00410512

“I found the ship at a golf course sim which was closing up — got a cheap deal on it for that reason. Plus it was a mess, all cracked up on those rocks over there as you can see from the photo.” Black Pearl provided a photo to Red Dead Beardy Head much like the one below where she is finagling the deal with a woman named Libra Neptune who, of all places, had ties to Saint Dennis. So it seems like she has the power to manifest such realities. I, the writer of this here blog and attached current photo-novel, had no idea the Black Pearl ship would be here too. A gift, we can call it, ‘nother one.

“How ’bout Davy Jones?” said Red Dead still beside her in bed, although it was a different night than before. Plans had advanced. The restored Black Pearl, ready for space as it would ever be, parked in the vacant lot in back of downtown. They were staying in the captain’s cabin, testing it out. Well stocked with Caribbean White Rum — good start.

“Not needed in this story,” she replied plainly about Jones, knowing what he was referring to. *Her* Black Pearl was different from Sparrow’s. This was from a woman’s perspective.

—–

They were walking into town for a morning drink and a bit of breakfast when Black Pearl spotted her walking below Parrots for Pirates.

“Libra??”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0512, Big Woods, HANA LEI, Jeogeot, RDR2