Category Archives: 0602

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)

Leave a comment

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.

Leave a comment

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!

Leave a comment

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.

Leave a comment

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.

Leave a comment

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

checkerboard

The 2nd Gee Cat arrived too late to help the first with the toting and dragging but she had another mission to fulfill: find the sacred Hobo and return him to HOME. Tell him who he is. Eat his enemies if necessary. Drag him home. Not to the Asylum. For these 2 Gee Cats, very different in looks and nature, are actually opposites of each other, friend and foe or friend and fiend. Now to find out which is which.

—-

“*Not* a witch,” she decides to say to the Pizza King.

“But –.”

“No butts.”

—–

The plug was blinking bright green, dispensing good vibes to the body. She breaths a sigh of relief. A *friend* approaches (phew!).

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0602, Paper Soap, Soap

Cory’s win

“Oh it smells *awful*, Buster,” Duncan spoke about the green pocketbook mounted in a display case on the side of the newstand. “Nothing new in there atall. Something *old*, and rotten. Smells like rancid sauerkraut to me, maybe mix in a little mustard. Can you imagine? My hands are turning redder just thinking about it. I need to amscray outta here! (reply/order). Red it is (*click*).” Duncan will have to stay a spell longer. TILE is strong here in Slaashsides-soon-to-be-part-of-Middletown, Buster believes. Continuing his pained face beyond the odor, he walks toward the subway, intending to turn himself in to Officer Davis Jefferson and his pseudo-supervisor Martha Wiggins for the murder of Hot Dog, then spill his confession at the merged jailhouse and mental institution later on. It’s the only way he can get the inside scoop. He purposefully bumps against Cory on the way down, one with the mother now. “Happy, bud?”, he asks sarcastically as he spots Jefferson and Wiggins at the bottom of a long long flight of stairs.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0602, Nautilus, North, Slaashsides

00250602

Sometimes you can’t help yourself. You have to take a snapshot.

Flash! The world is gone, then reappears. Blue Berry Girl sits on a rock, trying to figure it out. “Norris. Be *quiet*,” she demands. But Norris had said nothing in fact, not being alive in any way except through remote animation. She takes him everywhere. We could call him a constant sounding board. “Norris. Stop picking at your nose!” That kind of thing.

Flash! The brightness then dies down from the last pocket of virtual reality. A pond with real seeming rocks lining it. They sit down again, tired from the 50 meter walk, or Blueberry Girl imagines Norris is tired. Looking down, she then wonders when and why she painted her fingers (and toes) such odd colors.

“Norris. Stop *humming*.” Blueberry Girl imagined her constant companion was humming a Schuman, perhaps the one with the red eye (hopefully).  But then Norris stops and doesn’t start again.

“What *are* these rocks?” Blueberry Girl asks. “They seem… *different*!”

Norris had an independent thought for a change. *I* rock! he realizes. He is alive, resurrected even.

“Scratch scratch scratch!” went the seagull down at the rocks like a demented violin, trying to tell them the truth but being unable to communicate effectively being a simple bird and all. He has plans to change himself.

—–

“Another dream, Charlene. I was a dummy.”

“Aww,” she says with fake pout. “I’m sooo sorry.” She rubs his arm. She hands him his red tie, which he must put on first thing even to get out of bed.

“I saw rocks. I woke up. I was a violin. I was a seagull.”

“There there, now now.” She was rubbing the other arm now. She was patient. Jeffrey Phillips was doing right by her these days. Collagesity was not that bad. Once you get use to the crime and the background shooting and looting. As long as you’re in bed, say, by 7, and wear your noise cancelling headphones to go to sleep: you’re okay. April Mae Flowers was still in custody. There has to be more criminals, especially given the 5 sets of fingerprince and, well, the continuing crime, only slightly abated much to Jeffrey’s chagrin. He returned to continuing chaos. The paperwork containing the police reports among other things piles up. He works through it one day at a time, inch by inch, foot by foot. Then he comes across this.

—–

“The sun is hot today Norris,” she says, looking up from her hands into the cooler trees, trying to spot the seagull that had flown away from the toasty rocks down at the shoreline. But in vain: the demented violin sings no more.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0602, Collagesity Fordham, Corsica, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

00240602

A room with no door (Shop 10, Kowloon):

Downstairs:

“Come in, Fern Stallin.”

—–

“Yeah, I’m not Fern Stalin.”

“Ohh, but you *aare*.” Pause.

“Anyway…”

“Cornfield,” the Old Man in a Narrow Room interrupted crisply. “I’m sensing… Corrnfield, yess.” The place had lightened up.

Blue Berry Girl, 1/2way back to Rules of Rose by this point, looked around without questioning more. She vaguely recalls twins named Cornfield, born in, yes, Valentine. A place called Valentine.

“Youuurr… *rememmberring*.”

“Listen, um, Old Man. It was nice visiting you but I have other places to go tonight.”

“Youuu… will *returrnnn*.”

—–

—–

Walking the RR in the Inbetween World. Watch out from behind!

—–

“Yoouuu… havve *returrrnned*.”

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0602, Bellisaria, Kowloon^^, Purden/Snowlands^, Sansara

102

“This is the scene in Picturetown right when Bart Smipson should have been skating across main street on his way, as it turned out, to the game arcade where he does the big switcheroo and comes out in NWES City, Hucka D. Perhaps he is in front of the white truck here. Dangerous!

“But wait! Looky over there to the left (beyond the chatting girls at the corner who must have seen him skate by). A *single* tiger now where we had two staring before, or at least one eye apiece of two tigers. I know because this is in a collage composed for the last photo-novel. Behold!

“And here’s the full tiger, now whole, of the current scene. I’m not even sure I should be showing this, I don’t know, *time-skip* in the blog.

Hucka?”

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0023, 0602, Canada/Picturetown