Category Archives: 0609
00470609
“It just BLEW UP. I was staring right at it. And it just POOOOOPH.”
“We could have been on that boat, Marion,” says Hucka. “We could have been blown up too!”
“Blown up *real* good,” added Philip from the couch.
Nada and Lexi walk in from the back. “We heard the explosion!” says Nada. “What happened?”
“Newt’s sim skipping ship blew up that’s what happened,” uttered Marion, still reeling from the shock. How are they going to get, well, to wherever they were going *now*?
“Good,” says Philip, producing stares from all.
“Newton’s probably *dead*, Philip,” says Marion. “Now no brothers in the Orange family are left. What of poor Mama Mitchell?”
“Welll, how old is she? Is she, you know, too old to have kids now? What, you know, I’m saying is that they can be replaced. Maybe.”
“NOT the point, Philip. A man is dead. His hard work has been destroyed too. We’ll never get another one like that.”
“You know,” said Hucka. “Philip might be right. Oh, not about Newton being dispensable of course but us leaving. Maybe it’s good we’re not able to leave now. Philip… you have your opium plants. And Marion, you have your pot field.”
“It’s *both* our field,” says Philip. “But… go on… *I’m* at least listening.”
“And what about Phil?” she says, confusing all.
“I’m right here.”
“No not you Phil-IP. Phil. With no -ip at the end. Down at the Rhino. We’re suppose to talk to him. Maybe he can’t be communicated with at any other location.”
“Possibly,” allows Marion, also wondering about all the aspects of “we” she mentioned.
“Hey Marion,” asks Philip out of left field, suddenly remembering a glimmer of something else in all the excitement. “Whatever happened to that girl we were with? You know, the shape shifter. Helen I believe. Hermania.”
“Heidi,” spoke Marion from the window. “Heidi Hunt Ives.” Every Blue Moon Philip brings her up. And then promptly forgets again.
“Yeah… her.”
Marion didn’t answer because he knew she was at the bottom of a sea too, just like Newton’s sunken vessel out there. Our stolen “Little Bug.” Tears come to his eyes as he watches the still lingering smoke from the explosion drift around the bay. He tried to save her, he really did. He rationalizes he did the best he could… working by himself. If only Philip could have helped.
“I’m coming Little Bug!” **leap**
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0609, Gaston+, Maebaleia/Satori, Nautilus, Nautilus City
00460609
We use ART to discover who the true stabber is.
—–
“Oh Gregg Oden my opposite evil evil green twin! What have you done what have you DONE?!
“Hello 119? I mean 911! I’d like to report an accident. A horrible horrible accident!”
“Calm down, sir,” said Gertrude on the other side. “Just tell me what happened.”
“Stabbing. STAB!” Greg Ogden’s imaginary Juho art studio conveniently located on Makers Lane with door always slightly ajar come to life, as it were. As it *is*. He looks down at the body, quickly bleeding out. Not much time!
“Okay, I’ve tracked your location. We’ll send Charlie and Peet right over. Don’t leave the scene, sir!”
Then he was back at the beginning, painting Black Lake that wasn’t actually black except in soul. Should’ve never switched over to oils.
Filed under ***collages 2d, **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0609, Bogota, Chilbo, Crisp Sea, Ebbert, Jeogeot, Juho, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Nawt Vaya+, Wild West
00450609
If I could get up on that high hill the alien bee just disappeared into, I might gain a better perspective on the whole game situation I’m stuck in. Maybe the bee thing is an indicator — ‘nother one.
It starts raining as I approach the summit, pheh. Now my feet are wet, my clothes are getting soaked. Not fun.
But I ultimately make it and peer over the top. The Data Hall: so far away!
Ahh, better. And now my feet aren’t wet, the clothes are dry. Less resolution has its place. But I clearly see the chain link fence now and know I’ll have to return another night in another dream, wire cutters in hand. Till then!
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0045, 0609, Back Rooms, Europe, Holland, MFS
00440609
“So I drove up to this shed in the middle of freak-n nowhere, knowing there was something inside I needed to see.
“And then when I get out of my car and went inside, I see… him.”
“Him?” said Frank Lynn.
“Monkey? Dawg?” said Philip, trying to guess.
“No, Philip. No animal in this one. It was a man. But a man made of green: a solid green man. I’m not talking about someone wearing just a green shirt and green pants or even a green body suit. Green — top of the head to the bottom of the feet. And *glowing*.”
“Freaky,” said enraptured Frank Lynn.
“O-kaay,” uttered Philip Strevor. He needed to get some meth ready for a sale tonight, he thinks in the back of his head, but it can wait a little longer. He wants to see this through. In the moment, he even tries to focus a bit, which is rare.
“He starts to describe who he is,” continues Mikie. “Said he was actually made of uranium and that he was from the planet Uranus. ‘Both?’ I asked. ‘Both,’ he said.”
“Maybe he wanted you to think he was a piece of glowing sh-t,” offered Philip.
“Maybe,” said Mikie. “Okay, so then I remembered I had a Geiger counter on me — don’t ask me how. I switch it on — in my head somehow; something — and the thing registered off the charts, way too dangerous to stand very close to. So I backed off, planned my escape. Just then he turned into something else, like he was picking up on my fear. A human. Maybe — I don’t know — to be more on my level or something. Some kind of mind meld, mind you.”
“Huh,” said Frank Lynn.
“Hmph,” said Philip, shifting his feet and starting to truly get impatient. Just a little more.
“He was, I don’t know, trying to tell me something. He wanted me to know how he got here. Or what would happen to him if the wrong people found him. He was afraid, get this, of white people. He was green; they were white. Like, er, you and me Philip. But not like Frank Lynn, who’s black instead. He said he wasn’t afraid of black — specified it. Just white. Unless white combines with black to turn gray.”
“Listen,” said a now quite confused Philip. “I’m outta here; gotta measure out some drugs for a deal. I told my dream, I listened to yours, Frank Lynn, and I’ve listened to Mikie’s here long enough too. Green man in shed. Radioactive asshole or something. Got it.”
“Don’t you want to know if the white people catch up with him, dawg?” said Frank Lynn to Philip Strevor, who was already walking away.
“Nah, I’ll leave that story with you and your outstanding blackness,” he waved off while leaving the scene.
(to be continued)
Something was wrong here…
… very wrong.
Fern and Lichen decided to stay here for a while and eat their packed lunch to see if the phenomenon reappears at roughly the same spot. Fern believes it could have everything to do with Soos Creek in the foreground she’ll be staring at while dining. Tree barking Lichen knows better. The phenomenon has everything to do with the ring she secretly stashed up her bunghole in her pants pocket before the ride. Owned by someone who is also a Ryder. They would not recreate it while stationary and off the path. Must be on. Moving on…
There (again)!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0043, 0609, Kangerootown+, Omega, Washington
00420609
He caught up with some reading while she was gone, the cafe having a nice selection of books in back of the bar — 3 tall bookcases full. He was interested in travel books, since he was stuck in Castle Town for a while, unable to leave because of several physical conditions plaguing him at once. Mr. Goldilocks, Wendy liked to call him, because up top he was susceptible to cold while down below: the heat. The waist, she pointed out, represents the equator, the only place things are right. Too bad you can’t live there perpetually, she says. Between the Tropic of Cancer (points to chest) and the Tropic of Capricorn (points to private parts) where it’s not too hot not too cold. Great Belt she also called it for reasons unknown presently.
So because of this Barry stayed behind; didn’t venture with Wendy to Kangarootown to confront Okama Majo once more about his seemingly dirty tricks at the time. Cats’ litter boxes unclean, he knew. Ran out of “burny sticks” as she said he called them, so the place was cold when she and mayor Golden Jim arrived — stank like urine too. But this was her beef, her karma, he said to make another excuse besides the bodily conditions. “You’re the one who has to make two wrongs a right,” he said to her before she left, tickets in hand. “Last chance,” she said back. “The sky ferry is only half full last time I checked. You can sit by my side. I’ll help you with your issues, pass you an ice pack when you need it, a hot water bottle when you need that instead or in addition.” “In addition, yeah,” he said, knowing he’d often need both at once. But he’d already made up his mind: he wasn’t going. He had books to catch up on, videos to watch as well back in his topside apt. graciously provided by the town council. For he was something of a cult hero in these here parts, having famously saved the city of NWES City over on the Jeogeot continent from, let’s call it, abstraction. Drew it back into the real by drawing the real. One work of genius popped out after another. Soon everyone remembered why their town — nay, their *city* — was so great in the first place. The buildings, the people, the food, the arts, the crafts, the beaches, the sand, the sun, the *fun*. He must go back there too.
If only he could get rid of these bodily issues once and for all, pheh.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0609, Castle Town+, Great Belt, Kangerootown+, Omega
00410609
“Excuse me, sir. If I could interrupt you for a moment.”
—–
“And so as you can see, basically when we cross the Dewberry stream we’re already upon New Site and Chapter 03.” Baker Bloch looked around at the assembled members of The Table, a larger number than usual just because this was such an important new development: the potential end of Our Second Lyfe. “Questions so far?”
“Are we still in Randolph County?” queries Wheeler directly across the table from Baker, still dressed as Atlantis High Priestess and fresh from another shooting scene.
“Tallapoosa, actually,” replied Baker. “Same with The Barroom, same with Mary, Camp Hill, Slaughters.” I through the brain of Baker Bloch make a note to look up all US Slaughters after all this is done.
“Hmm,” said Wheeler. A pause here.
“Grassy?” Baker spoke to the green Mmmmmm being sitting to Wheeler’s left. “Any thoughts?”
But Grassy was biding his time until spring and the return of outdoor plants, ready to make a move in the Mystery Spot of nearby Boulder highlighted in a section 02 post of this here photo-novel (41). “Not at this point,” he said, knowing he represented all Toy Avatars, all of his kind, in this opinion.
“Very well.” He turned to *his* left. “Newt: any comments or opinions or whatever?”
Newt, with old Axis-style pitch black German coat worn over modern agogo red-yellow-black German t-shirt, was also biding his time. Until Baker Bloch handed over the reigns of Aisle of Palms to him; make him mayor or whatever the title turned out to be. Maybe even King? With Wheeler his Queen, if so. After all, Baker Bloch is just kind of a Prime Minister figure in all this, having most of the power to create, etc., but not being the legal ruler of the land. That remained in Wheeler’s hands. So far.
Baker looked 2 seats down. “Hucka?”
“I wish to come back into the story,” she spoke plainly, directly, looking at him then looking at everyone else at The Table, wanting them to understand she was dead serious about this.
Another pause. “Well, okay. We can make that happen. Right gang?”
Murmurs of agreement all around, even the usually silent 88’s sitting to Wheeler’s right. Everyone knew the spiritual importance of Hucka to the blog, a type of Holy Ghost to the thing.
—–
Afterwards, Baker thought back to meeting the Bishop in an unexpected place off Old Wagon Road in central Maebaleia (continent), Our Second Lyfe must remain relevant being the overarching message he relayed. And then he took him diagonally to Redlands for a demonstration.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0609, Alabama, Big Woods, Boulder, Haze County, Jeogeot
00400609 (Perch)
The slideshow they had prepared was *bore-ing*, but at least she wasn’t in Rockaway Beach Municipal Prison any longer, thanks to her mother. But it was thanks to her mother, she reminded herself, that she was in there in the *first* place. What did she do wrong except be adorable, she couldn’t help laughing at herself.
She looked out the window, at the large, altered American flag flying out there. At least they also like Obama, she thought about the face superimposed atop the stars part. But maybe this is just an older parcel and he was still the president when all this was formed, this *reform* camp. Land description does say the owner is not that involved in Our Second Lyfe any longer. Would explain why the mug of Trump isn’t around, because it sounds like the guy, from a glance at his other interests (suggested open gun carrying in Our Second Lyfe? say whaaaat?), might be a follower of *that* cult. Cults attract cults after all, refuge for the causers.
And what’s all this stuff about worshiping Venus?
This is what you get for following a Head without a Body.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0609, Omega, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island
00390609
It was time for Marsha Pink Krakow to show Tammy Beige Brown the way out of this world, to see down on it all. “Over here!” she called, not worrying about the vile photography/calligraphy teacher hearing. “Quick! Climb behind me! Just sit on the thread and go go go go go!”
She got on just in the nick of time. Shelley the kid was already waiting at the top. Tammy was about to get initiated into the most exclusive club in all of Storybrook in all of its room-like forms.
At the top, Marsha cuts the cord (disables the climbing scripts) before Banks can figure out how to follow. They are above and he is below. Safe at New Home, but trapped. Only Bart the missing yellow can help. But Marsha knew this too, if only unconsciously. Or maybe consciously — we’ll see.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0609, River
Sunklands 