Category Archives: 0611

00510611

I had… Anocemax right here on the table where yesterday I’d been woofing down a suspect bland topless pizza and where I was sitting when the unsliced top showed up afterwards with a mouth running on about Silver this and Silver that, turning *me* Silver in the end, *sigh*. Should’ve been Jack instead of Luigi’s at the end of that row staring with King followed by Queen but it wasn’t in the cards; all sour grapes or at least fruit by this point. This won’t happen tonight; I’ll make sure of *that*. I unload two pills red and blue from the bottle before me into my shooting hand and raise them toward my open mouth.

“Don’t do it!” shouted a likewise open mouthed, frilly, grape colored Prince barging through the front door. My Hitcher! I realized, or close enough. Must have used the wrong vendor. “Oh,” I said, realizing what he was concerned about. “No no, these are *appetite suppressant* pills, not the kind that can kill you. I just wanted to avoid the pizza again.”

“You sure about that?” Prince said, looking at me askance with that famous pout like he knows something I don’t.

Anocemax, I ponder. “Oh DARN! I bought the wrong drug from that cheap ass pharmacy in town. I wanted Aconamex!”

“Precisely. And I’m here to collect the remainder of your balance.” Then Prince shrunk down into the same blasted banana I was trying to avoid all along, starting the cycle all over again. “Empty your pockets,” he commanded. “Give it all over to me. NOW.”

I turned them inside out like before, handed over the $19.99 it surprisingly produced which he seemed pleased with and said it was just enough to party down like there was no tomorrow. Which he also indicated there wasn’t. tbc?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0051, 0611, Bandanaboro, Omega

00500611

Probably the last structure has been added to my Nawt Vaya Free State property for this here photo-novel, 50 in a series of 50 and still going. Another old one: an abbreviated version of the Kidd Tower that was conceived over 10 years ago and where we’ve just seen Mr. Babyface sitting on the topmost floor of in the post before this one. Frank’s Moving Castle, still also in NVFS as of this writing, appears to be testing its flavor. 🙂

As stated, Mr. Babyface is no longer with us, having perished in the Korean Channel sim synchily called Orgamast thanks to that unexpectedly appearing water funnel or whirlpool or something. In his place we have Okama Majo now living in the building, also taking up Babyface’s study of the Big E/Big Schwa. Through his video feed, he stares at Orgamast here like his baby faced predecessor did before. He understands the meaning perhaps even better. All Blue. TBC?


stare, take 02

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0611, Jeogeot, Kidd Tower, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS, Xilted

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, Jeogeot, Rodentia 02

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

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, Newer Island, NVFS

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

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

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

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

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