Category Archives: 0611

March 19, 2026 · 8:10 am

00490611

Well I hope Spiff’s happy tutoring whoever he’s tutoring, thinks Arthur “Orient” Morgan, standing in front of an open fridge. Because I’m *roasting* in here.

“Order *up*,” calls Wheeler from the window, ticket in hand. “And *shut* that door, why don’t you. Do you think I’m made of money??”

“I don’t know *what* you’re made of, lady.” He dabbed more sweat off his face.

“Triangles,” she says. “Triangle and hexagons.” She laughs.

“Okay, good enough,” he says nonplussed, looking at the tattoo stamped on her forehead and wondering again if it stood for DEMO, all the letters exposed, or DEMON, with an N secretly hidden behind the flip style hair. He’d yet to have the chance to flip it back and see. Snapshots, all he has is snapshots so far. Missouri. Because, yes, he fancied her. He probably didn’t have a choice, given his name was Arthur with a middle name of Orient. He was starting to believe Wheeler’s cockamamie story about them being married in a previous life or something, parallel life she says instead sometimes. The attraction is real. Married and then buried and then… married again? Could it be? First he had to serve out this stupid sentence, work in this hot ass kitchen for 2 weeks until he made up the difference between North and South (painting). Then and only then he’d find out the truth.

“I don’t care about mainstream trends in Their Second Lyfe,” she said another time about her non-mesh status. “I am who I am, born full blown from the head of Baker Blinker. Notice the bit of pink in the skin tone — that’s her. And then I stole some other things,” she admitted. “It’s all lighting and trickery anyway, everything is. Real Life or Second. This extends to all virtual realities.” I didn’t see much pink in her skin tone, Arthur thinks, but maybe that’ll be part of the hidden that’s exposed too.

I stare into her eyes from beyond the 4th wall, wondering if there’s actually a soul in there besides my own. Baker Blinker, Baker Bloch, Hucka Doobie, Karoz Blogger — all me. But Wilson — Wilsonia. *Could* be different. Not yet, though. Not in the present. Presents *and* absence so far. Just like Xmas. TBC

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0611, Dokken Hollow+, Jeogeot

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December 2, 2025 · 3:31 pm

00480611

Perspective has changed at De House. Mann has lost wo-Mann in a way, in a manner. A hole has been formed in the middle. Witches. Which witch is which? What is good and what is baad?

“Interesting art you have there up above the bar now, Daisy. Another Corona Non while I have your attention, thanks.”

“The art?” She turns and looks up. “Yeah, it’s the alcoholic sea monster there in the middle, obviously. And the pool it’s in: the Nawt Vaya Sea. I found it in the user’s inventory. He indicated the association.”

“User?”

“Yeah, baker b. The user who controls us all, or at least while we’re on his land I suppose, this Nawt Vaya Free State on the shores of same.”

Biker Mann takes another drag off his cigarette, attempts to take all that in. He decides to focus on the art, the meaning. “Soo… is that a painting or what? Looks more like a photo.”

“It’s a collage, silly. You know that.” Daisy Flathead looked flatly at him, anticipating more. Hopefully the discussion will get seriouser from this point on. She decides she needs to add some information here and does so. “It’s… not a part of any series that I know of — not really.”

“The houses,” Biker kind of interrupts. “The same?” making her turn around to stare again. “90 degrees?” he furthers. “3 years?”

—–

“Oh, and the central figure, er, figures. The brown statues that grow shorter with time.”

“Do they?” It was Daisy who was trying to catch up now, mann overtaking wo-mann once more. In this certain situation in this certain time in space.

“Yeah. The acorn topped head.” He pointed to Daisy’s flat one. “It’s Pierrot again. Did you get that?”

She didn’t. But then she makes a decision after continuing to gaze. “I — don’t think they’re the same.”

“Aren’t they?” he pressed.

She checks again. “No,” she judges firmly.

“Okay, okay,” he gives in, seeing the pretty different designs on the, er, helmets of each. Head tops. “Then let’s shift to the hole in the middle.”

“Nawt Vaya? Sea?” she added.

“Kind of I guess. But (moreover) the hole made by the line figure collapsing inside his own clothes that obviously overlaps the brown statues. Where, um, does that hole go?”

She notices the hole, she notices what is highlighted. Thinking of Grant’s Hill again in Missouri and nearby Siloam, she says the word in her mind.

Just then, Philip Strevor pops his head in the door, asks about Nada. “Seen her?” he finishes his introductory paragraph.

“Nada? Yes, she came in here earlier with Lexi,” Daisy provided him. “Said they were headed up to Juho. Said something about a haircut.”

“Oh no,” says Philip. “Oh *no*. WITCHES?” And he ran away from the bar to the North as fast as he could, hoping to catch Nada before she made a big BIG mistake. TBC

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0611, Bogota, collages 2d, Hole in the Wall, Jeogeot, Juho, Michigan, Missouri, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS, Silverton

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August 24, 2025 · 3:14 pm

00470611

Not yet, then.

First, to deal with all the whiteness…

—–

“Looks like they landed in Victoria Harbor first,” he talks aloud to himself while studying the Hmm material in one of the many ring binders piled up all around him. “That’s where– Gus! Could you keep it down up there!”

“Let’s see… the list, yes, that’s where he– Gus! Dammit, better check in on him.”

“Gus, that’s too much wood. Put away some of the wood. I’m starting to sweat! And I can’t concentrate because of all the crackling. Tone it down!” Then Frank Lynn remembered Gus’s power and decides to add, “Please.” Don’t want to anger the fire deity that holds this whole giant castle together!

Gus puts away some of the wood.

“Now, where was I?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0611, Connecticut, Frank's Moving Castle, Jeogeot, Misty Mo+, Nawt Vaya+, New Island, NVFS

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May 19, 2025 · 2:26 pm

00460611 (… and round)

He moves closer, shines his light on it. It’s either the lore of the Albert sim Monster or the lore of Black Lake, New York and its Woodstock, he’s determined about the illuminated book through checking the name “lore” in the current photo-novel. Aah! he then realizes. Both in one!

He picks up his Windsong classical guitar and dons his Windsong blown wind hair style and starts to play. A small crowd soon gathers, growing bigger and bigger…

He sings in ecstasy. Better than sex. Better than Wheeler! He doesn’t need the Yore pool any longer. He’s made his own reflection!

Round and round…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0611, End of Time+, New York

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February 6, 2025 · 3:43 pm

00450611

An F near the highway outta here. Must stand for Fern. That’s me! And this is my game made for walking and traveling. Since a bus is more likely to be used than any other form of transport, I call it Fernbus. Or Ferncoach; haven’t finalized. Much like the game.

Another F in the same field. Maybe: Finished? As in, finished with this game. Just over there beyond that highway sign actually leading to nowhere, motoring cars falling like lemmings into the void sea just beyond.

A third F. France. *France*?? I playfully exclaim to myself in utter shock. But this was suppose to be the corner to The Netherlands from this here direction of Germany, golly gee whiz. Where’s Vaalserberg that I created this whole game to find Philip Strevor at and maybe Mikie and Frank Lynn along with him? Where’s one of the higher rises in the entire Dutch kingdom and the highest in The Netherlands itself where everything will reach a logical climax?

Oh well, I’ll just have to take a 500 KM trip north on another one of my many game buses to Aachen to recalibrate, maybe take in the Albrecht Durer exhibit celebrating the 500 year anniversary of his visit while I’m there. Wonder if he created the print “Melancholia” when staying in the low lands? No, I think (again, playfully with myself, because I actually knew the dates of everything, the trip, the print, the painting), that would have been pre-1521 and thus before the 1 year trip to Holland. Yes, that’s where he finished “St. Jerome in his Study” instead, one of his most famous paintings as “Melancholia” is to print.

—–

Windmills old and new entering the view. Getting close! Vaalserberg here we come.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0045, 0611, Europe, France, Holland, MFS

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November 15, 2024 · 3:32 pm

00440611 (Plant Man)

“Thaaat’s betterr.”

“Hold still Mr. Middle Slaughter, tee hee. Say cheese.”

“Cheeeeeese.”

“Perfect.” Snap.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0611, Arroyo, C2077, United Kingdom, Wiltshire

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August 10, 2024 · 6:03 am

00430611 (Mr. S)

They were just experimenting with the one bike between takes, merely rubbing noses it seems, when the director called them back to the set.  “Actually,” he said when they returned to the plywood backdrop in the background above that pictured all things Soos Creek on its other side, “I think we’ll just go with *plywood* this time — let *plywood* be the actor.” The girls logically thought this idea was the result of his rock cocaine imbibed during the break but he was altogether serious. Plywood actor it is, a hire from the Robots Guild. Since he could travel at 181.56 miles per hour and the Guild was only 5 miles away, given a favorable wind and a pretty straightforward path between points A and B it only took him around 2 minutes to reach the set once the call was put in.

“Aaaaanddd ACTION!”

“Hmm, where’d they go?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0043, 0611, Google Street View, Kangerootown+, Omega, Washington

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May 5, 2024 · 2:39 pm

00420611 (“dozen”)

I’d just reached the chapter about Flying when the call came in (again). Brrng brngg, went the imaginary phone on the pretend desk downstairs, distracting me.

7 times. 8. “Will someone get that gall blasted phone!” I shouted through the floor at apparently no one. Who’s here with me? Shakespeare?

11; 12. “Will someone *please* WAKE UP down there and get that phone!!”

—–

Someone woke up downstairs, sauntered over, bedroom slippers lazily sliding over the marble checkerboard floor. The receiver of the phone is picked up, the ringing stops. Someone says “hallo?” into it at the same time Baker Bloch upstairs yells “Thaank — yoou!!”.

Mention of Antarctica from the other end. Both Antarctica and the Arctic actually, both poles. It was as if the voice slid down one and then up the other, back to his cozy fire to finish his book. At least that’s what Baker Bloch was imagining upstairs as he started chapter 13 for real.

—–

Evening comes to the hotel in Shamon and Baker has finished his book. No calls downstairs since the pole one, leaving him in peace instead of pieces. Poor Baker Bloch. But he remembers how to fly now. Spaced Ghost.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0611, Jeogeot, Xilted

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January 27, 2024 · 10:47 pm

00410611

I’ve now come up with an Option 02 for Jim Randolph the Bastard Pirate. Instead of crashing on Red Dead’s planet in his augmented ship, redesigned for space as well as sea, he winds up here.

As the only street in town not named for a number or letter, I think the implications are clear. This *is* Aisle of Palms. In a different form and connected to a different game besides Our Second Lyfe. A rival one, but not Red Dead’s again.

We’ve seen screenshots of it sprinkled about these here photo-novels. And also met at least the outer appearance of one of the 3 main protagonists. Or should I say, antagonist — hard to tell; up for debate. But not going by his original name and in a different gang of three.

https://bakerbloch.com/tag/philip-strevor/

And now he has a new home, same as the old home. Bombay Beach/Sandy Shores. Mr. Boss again to explain:

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0611, California, Google Street View, GTA

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November 8, 2023 · 6:28 am

00400611

“I still have a home on Nautilus. It was a retirement gift — very pretty there. Lots of vegetation.”

Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer, still dealing primarily with bodily fluids but hoping to graduate to full blown psychiatry soon, looked at his e-machine and gauged this was true. “Describe… gift,” he decided to say.

It was the end of 31 and it was the end, period. March 1 of last year, 12:01 AM we’ll say. Eddie D’Aigle, who sometimes preferred D’Aigle, Eddie, especially if he was traveling in the Orient, had just retired from the private sector of the records management business, having made his fortune archiving the files of rock stars Ozzie Osbourne, Ozmo Daredevils, and the like. His last blog article for the latter, the last he did overall, was about how the song “Jackie Blue” was changed from “Jackie Pink,” which drew the attention of Pink, Marsha, Krakow. He had the evidence before him as he wrote: the altered lyrics, everything. “It was suppose to be about a man who peddled drugs during the day while working nights as a bartender, a very Dada affair,” he reinforced to her in a reply email, then, seeing her avid interest, invited her up to [Blue Mountain] to look at the actual, revised lyrics herself. “Come with your driver’s license or a birth certificate,” he said, “and our staff will bring the whole box out to you; I’ll put it on reserve and not reshelve. You can look at one file at a time, and just mark what you want copied with green (START) and red (STOP) paper we’ll provide.” She ended up photocopying the whole box. New 3d scanner the office just purchased did the trick in a 10th the time it would have taken the old fashioned way. Marsha’s, in fact, was the first request accomplished using that method. Boxy Marsha, she went down in office legend as. Prototype. Especially since Eddie, on his last day of work, helped her tote the (wrong?) box to her still hot pink car, soon to change to yellow. Thanks to what was inside. In many ways, she became the box she requested, a black and white facsimile of herself.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0611, Blue Mountain, Nautilus, Omega, Retirement Islands, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island, Wild West

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