Category Archives: 0602

00370602

Squared Root City, the hoped for functioning capital of Lower Austra, is swimming with changes. Club Zero in the upper left corner of the sim sized burg is gone, and that’s just the start. Nulled out. What’s the square or root number now? Same as the number itself, it seems. We’ll see what develops.

—–

Her suddenly talented mother came over to help rehearse the Crazy Blue act, still on despite the Horns being away in New Mexico. Soo shy; doesn’t want anyone to see her yet. Still blonde as rope. Is this who it seemed to be?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0037, 0602, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Squared Root City

00360602

I had to go find out if this was really Mabel we’re dealing with here, a girl of purest green. In a way I suppose it had to be. Kitty kats — not the first time we’ve shared that link in this here photo-novel, 36 in a number.

*There* she is. Composing one of her backwards chord songs it appears from the sound of it, green plant in front of her dancing along with the queer results. She was green it was green. They were one.

—–

After convincing her I was Baker Bloch in another form, she fessed up at least to the knowledge of Tintown, a former tiny community on the edge of Mortons Gap. But whether Kentucky or Our Second Lyfe remained to be determined.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0602, Corsica, Kentucky, Nautilus, North, Northwest^

black and white

“She’s somewhere in that prison.” Lichen Roosevelt glances up. “Tall and narrow.”

“Like in the windows,” her companion Fern Stalin said for clarification, mainly to the reader of this here text. “The prison itself is rather short and squat, despite appearances from our angle.”

“Right right. Well?”

“France was a no go,” Fern said to Lichen.”Nothing in Mercury-Gemilli, or what we could detect at the time.”

“We had our Star Team tricorders,” said Lichen to this. “We should have sensed something if something was there.”

“Maybe later,” encouraged Fern.

“Maybe later,” echoed Lichen.

They begin to prepare for scaling the walls…

—–

“Liz!” Lichen exclaimed, waking her up.

“Shhhh. Keep it down!” she whispered as loud as safely possible, she felt. But she was overjoyed at the sight. At long last they meet almost eye to eye again. Get me out of here!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0602, France, Omega^^, Southern

new outdoorsy “center”

Fans of LOST might like this place I found yesterday on one of my daily hikes. Very reminiscent of Jacob’s Cabin — in the middle of frick’n nowhere.

Questions abound. Who lived in the cabin? Why did they leave? Was it just a hunting cabin? Has it been totally forgotten about over time due to its remoteness? Why the sink in the wall? etc., etc.

Next I visited a cemetery with tombstones variously marked Main, Maine, and Mains. I sensed a branching of probable realities, especially when a stream called Mine is nearby. Did a Main, Mine, Maine or Mains inhabit the cabin? Did the cabin, as an anomaly of some kind, cause this apparent distortion or blurring of names in the first place?

https://lostpedia.fandom.com/wiki/The_Cabin

addition: Did you know the Man in Black lived in Jacob’s Cabin? Would explain the higher ceiling.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0602, Blue Mountain

hill house

Darling Pixley Pixy,

I tried to leave you but when I went out the front door it just became a door. I looked back. I realized all the answers I wanted were here — there — after all, kind of like Dorothy and her Kansas. So I gave up Oz; went back through the door. Laid down and went to sleep for a bit. Woke up and came downstairs to eat breakfast-dinner with the stern but still kindly aunt and the kind of stern but kind of not uncle — old fashioned they were. Asked them how I got here (eventually). They said:

“You landed here.”

I said, “Whaat?”

“In a beam of white light,” they further confessed. “You are not…”

“… from this world,” the other completed for the first, gams for gams (as we say).

I sat there, stunned obviously.

“Your eyes,” they continued. “That was the giveaway. That led to the others.”

“The… *others*?”

“The other… phenomena,” spoke the uncle, differentiating himself from my aunt in tone and volume. He spoke quite a bit after that. The skin tone pink was brought up early (and loudly) in the spiel. Then the tattoo, which he wrongly called “demon”. It was “demo”. They assumed I had scrubbed off the M somehow to cover this up and then flipped my hair down over the space along with the damaged eye. This also made me a heathen in their eyes. But somehow they still managed to love me. Deeply. Alien influence, I gathered from them, some kind of et sorcery.

“The cards,” Aunt Mina then prompted Uncle Taum.

“Ah yes,” he started again, but found his mouth was tired from talking. “You tell, dear.” He worked his jaw up and down, trying to get the soreness out for the next round of words. Aunt Mina saw this. Started talking kind of for him but also kind of not. She had her own mind these days. Read up on the suffragettes thanks to Marty. Realized Muff was just a portmanteau for Mutt and Jeff, with Jett jettisoned in the process — in the name. Band on the run.

“Do you recall being on the run?” she then asked, “OTR as we like to call it?”

“Tell her about the bluebird,” spoke the uncle, able to insert that much at least.

“Cards first. Cardinals,” the aunt clarified.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0602, Jeogeot, Kansas, Towerboro

00320602

He waits between hot and cold, choosing hot himself and currently enjoying a mustard and ketchup laden dog of such temperature before customers show up for the midday “rush” — not much of a rush actually but he’s not much of a worker these days, being technically retired and a bona fide Whitehead in Da Woods.

The Mustard Ketchup Kid plays soccer in a nearby field with his sister Ventura, who hails from California. She channels her energy in order to attempt to get the ball past Bert (actual name), but all this is just more code.

Squared Root City is expanding across Highway 13-14 into the sim to the north. Still exciting times for the burg. We hold out hope that it can replace Collagesity-Fordham as proper capital of Lower Austra. Because the latter is probably going away and is, anyway, too small for the role, being only a little over 1/8th of a sim in size. Squared Root Cy is, in contrast, about a sim and a 1/2 in area now.

That’s why the Axis-Windmill character is back. He waits in the Zero Club at the beginning of it all — just before the beginning, some say — for another important character that has chosen to resurface in these here blog-novels to match the new energy. Vim, some call her; others: Vigor (that’s actually her sister, maybe a twin). She counts her Mississippi’s in anticipation of the manifestation. One Mississippi, Two… wait, she forgot something. Newt! At the Zero!

“Hi baby doll.”

He turns. “Eyela?? Wasn’t expecting *you*.”

“No one is,” she speaks truthfully and, after adjusting the strap of her new clockwork eyepatch to better match her face, takes a seat beside him at the bar. Both now turn away from the camera and speak privately. We try to listen in but only catch a couple of words like Geronimo, Slick, Olive, and Oklahoma. We gather an oil spill in Indian territory of the panhandle state may be involved but could be mistaken. Let’s back up and move in closer. We’re the bartender. Let’s call him Jim. Tom, actually, only 3 feet away. Close enough to properly record. We ask if they need a drink to be more legitimate seeming. They refuse. We move away but not too much — should be OK. And… PRESS.

“I’m glad we could mustard enough energy to catch up,” she began, which was code for “very important information to follow.”

“Spill,” he requested, and she did. We were right. Kind of.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0602, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Mississippi, Nautilus, Squared Root City

Happy Days

Sitting on the dough, the money of the place, he’s remembering a lot. Baker. Wendy. The rented room for the night above the citrus fruit shop. Then it happened *again*, the dream within a dream.

He’d forgotten about the Strange Isle, the Temple of Light exactly 200 meters above it in the air. So much has gone on in Our Second Lyfe now.

And now another strange island, considerably larger in scope, looms before him. Some will call it Retirement Island, especially after the 28th of this particular month of 2022 (February). Actually there’s another, similar sized island not far atall to the east that might be paired with it throughout eternity — probably is. They are definitely a part of the Wild West of Nautilus, although Lands End between it and Lower Austra is just to the south and east as well, a strong focus of this particular photo-novel, 31 in a series of — I won’t say 31 again. I don’t know how long it will last. I consider it a precious gift. 🙂 There are so many advantages of writing in this manner, in this way, in terms of character development over time — through many many photo-novels in some cases; the same with *location* development; and then the final one, the most illusive: THINGS (always capitalized). Concepts sometimes. Examples for it from the current photo-novel include SEED, THROUGH THE WALL, PHEH, 102, NODAL, *BLEH* (different from PHEH), POINT FOLLOWING, WAIT!, LETTER Q, CARDS, MORGAN/MORGAINE, GREEN RING, WHITE TREES, SUN ROSE, HAT REMOVAL, TILE MANIFESTO, NEW PHYSICS, PAST FUTURE, ENIGMA, GRASSHOPPERS, SILHOUETTES, PURPLE/BLACK LAKE BUNCH, OUTER PLANETS, RASPBERRY, and RAINBOW SPHERE. Complicated — illusive — like I said. But maybe the most important in the long haul, stitching together character and location to make a larger picture that can only be, for practical purposes, faintly seen and locally enforced. This is definitely a metaphor for life itself. We continue…

So you see, for example, the phrase “citrus fruit shop” has been used twice in photo-novel 31, although I haven’t included it as a thing — yet. A linking concept is All Orange, part thing part character so far. In the post “Sameness”, we see an orange, circular in design and thus representing the whole, paired with CARDS to form a deeper study. Notice that Alice’s caterpillar is on one of the cards — a “worm” — and wormholes were talked about earlier in the photo-novel. Then All Orange refers to something Wendy saw in this same citrus shop back in photo-novel 26 I believe, when she stayed in the same apartment as Man About Time and Alysha did later, except with Jeffrie Phillips. Why the same apartment? Why an orange referenced in each case?

We can actually turn to the ORACLE (yet another thing/concept but not listed/official yet — *large*) and find WALDROP (another character and thing combo, actually) linked with both Fife and Thelma Lou and understand that Man About Time, second in command to Jeffrie Phillips in Collagesity (still?), is kind of Barney Fife of the “Andy Griffith Show” to Jeffrie’s Andy Griffith. Thelma Lou, his true love, is turning into Alysha — again the citrus fruit shop setting clues us into this. But then we also know that Jeffrie Phillips himself is married to Alysha, but it seems to be in a parallel reality to MAT’s. Imagine this — I don’t think it ever happened in the show but imagine this: Andy — Sheriff Andy Taylor — and Barney, his faithful deputy and best friend for life, dating the same woman… but not just dating her, *married* to her. Both of ’em. And take a look back if you wish at all the symbols from that show we’ve run across in 31. Tailors Tillie and Tealy become Taylors (like Andy and his aunt Bee in the show). Tangentially, Mount Airy, the factual place that translates into Mayberry, the fictional setting for practically the entire show — a cultural archetype by now — is featured in other ways, like through the original Siamese twins Chang and Eng Bunker. But this just entered the story through a random picture found by Wheeler on the Omega continent. And the tesseract — don’t get me started about the tesseract. Iowa.

—–

I forgot to even mention Opie — Opp or Campbell O’Pine, grown up and beyond his toy “childhood” starting in photo-novel 8 to become a real, true to life man.

Large.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0602, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

root

“I agree, Blackey. Sure *looks* like a mouth.” Is Perch really reemerging? Baker Bloch contemplates on this sea green isle before The Rock of Southwestern Nautilus. After all this time? Carrcassonnee has just been the one eye for, it seems, as long as he can remember. He can’t even recall…

“Duncan?” approaching boy George said behind him, then also stares up, moreso than Baker even. He could see the eye(s) forming already behind the mossy veil.

I don’t want to *see* this, he thought, and looked away, forgetting the moment even. “Let’s go home.” A boy of 10 back to 13 then 10, over and over, had finally stopped the past/future “burp.” Carrcassonnee had saved him. By sacrificing herself for the greater good. Just like that other 3.16 person.

Baker acquiesces and turns black himself. He takes the boy of 10 back to Heaven, White as. Soup’s up!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0602, Nautilus, Southwestern

Satin’s rule

I often dreamed of the explosion that killed Heidi Biker Chick, our former director, soon to be replaced by new director Percy Pierce. It was always the same: I was inside the bar, trying to identity her in the flames and smoke, being burned alive myself. I perish looking for her; perhaps a ceiling beam falls on me, cutting short my horror. But where am I when I wake up? Where am I *now*? (gasp) I sit up: the beam didn’t need to be pushed off me, although I lie in the same position that I died — on the floor. How did I get from my bed to the floor? Everything seemed strange.

In the dreamscape I just left, the fire kept spreading. Now: the fire station itself just next door. Ruby! They’re after Ruby. Better send in the army but, trouble is, the army started it in the first place. Me again, then, I suppose.

I get up. I finish planting the bomb underneath the table where Heidi Biker Chick would meet Hank Graphite later. I know the meeting would start at 7 o’clock sharp. Heidi: always prompt, always professional in her approach to time. 5:05 now. I set the timer for 2 hours. I walk outside, down Violin Lane, back to the depot and the train that brought me here to this brave new world. I am re-swallowed by the tunnel. I wake up for real.

I look over for Alysha but it is 1 year and 2 months too soon. Better get back to work.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0602, Paper Soap, Soap

scenes from a hat

He woke up in a fetal position on top of yet another fox. She spoke without turning from the even redder couch, wearing an even redder dress.

“How dare you think you can come to the White Palace in the skies and not alert *me*.”

He was groggy. He couldn’t make out exactly what was said. He raised up off of the plush fox, so soft. Like a blanket. He wanted to sleep forever, he realized. But… he must remain alert. Danger! He recalls: danger.

“You can leave Sepisexton,” she spoke over to the robot guard more in the background. “I want to talk to the *boy* alone.”

——

“It was always destiny that I come to this Misty MO and find love, Hucka.”

“Hucka?” He wakes.

“Charlene.”

Groggily; just waking up as well: “Yes?”

—–

“Okay you must tell me what you did with Jeffrey Phillips, shirt-less boy. *Now*.”

The green door opened. A presence was there.

—–

Trying to ignore rats, Dr. Mouse stands before the green door. The green phone on the front desk rings. It’s Claude.

—–

Geez I think my ears are ruptured.

There. It’s fixed.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0602, MISTY MO^^, Paper Soap, Soap, Teepot^^, White Palace