Category Archives: 0613

Somoco: Gothic-Deco

“Well it’s just lovely, dear.”

Like you, he thinks. He’s still smitten with her beauty after all these years. To him, she hasn’t aged hardly a bit. In his eyes. “We’ll get you some new art,” he explains about the missing piece on the wall, stolen from a gallery somewhere they both can’t recall the name of at this point. “Turning over a new leaf in this here newest version of Collagesity we are. Crinimals no more.”

“No more,” vowed his wife Lovey, the former Ms. April Mae Flowers, together the Clyde and Bonnie of Second Life art thievery. She reaches across the table to hold his hand. A team still they are, just on the right side of the law this go around. But then her mind starting wandering back to one particular piece specifically, the one that earned them their nickname of Humanvillians at the time of the steal. She was picking up on the psychic vibe of the community in her gifted way (so many residents with “gifts”!). Intuitively, she knew about the cave, the railroad, the train, the castle, the deity within who needed to return home so badly, whether it be Missouri or Kentucky or Oklahoma or some other state, even a state of mind.

“I’m glad that man I killed in Collagesity is still floating in the pool back there. A constant reminder of the errors of my way. We’ll keep him there.”

“The… gardener,” Herbert Gold, in turn, reminded his wife, thinking they really *both* killed him. Since he was his rival for her hand back in ’72. The Zoo Year; all the monkeys let loose; everything *bananas* (flying about). Who knows who did in who at the time, or who cheated on her husband and/or wife during any particular stretch. That Zoo needed to be closed, become a fossil. That Zoo was also Boos, the gallery, the collages. Did I say ’72? I meant 2017. 2016, actually, although 7 is a funnier number than 6. Sepisexton.

At the bottom of the hill below Herbert and Lovey’s new house, Sepisexton pulls in with Paul. They’re here about the art.

“Just up there,” she points. “Let’s go,” Paul says, ready to spew some acidities.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0613, Jeogeot, Middleton^, Towerboro

deeper…

“The same four numbers. Over and over.” She turns after observing. “Punch them into me, Ensign. I have to know what this is about.”

“But… your condition. Ma’am.” My probable baby! he thinks.

“Never mind that just do as you’re told. Here I’ll hold the chest keypad close to you.” Just like I did last night, Lt. Clotheshanger thinks. The Deep South has a way of making higher and lower come together like that outside the harsh, dividing glare of daylight.

Behind them and at the same time perhaps:

“Is this a formal complaint, Ms. Mantell?”

“Mandell, she says to this, use to mispronunciations of her two given names. So close on either side. “Martell Mandell” she says in full.

“Yes, certainly Ms. Martell.”

“*Mandell*.”

Pause as Shirley studies one of the provided photos in her mind. “Right, Martell,” she finally acknowledges. “So Ms. Mantell (Martell rolls her eyes), tell me about this Harry slash Jerry?”

“I’ll take over here, Martell, if you don’t mind,” spoke immediate superior Abs — Abbey Abdominator — sitting beside her at this meeting with HR. “We have reason to believe this file was stolen.”

“Interesting,” HR representative Shirley Stall says to this. A ringing in her ear. “Hold on,” she requests, “I have to take this.”

6 minutes later, she returned her attention to the file. “Sorry,” she excused herself, “I had to listen to all 24 permutations before she let me go. The boss, you know.”

Abs looked over at Martell who looked back. Synchronicity of thoughts. Spider!

“There was a horse involved.” She paused, reconsidered the communication. “No: a dog.”

Horse becomes a dog! Another forewarning.

She shakes it off, second photo replaced back by the first. Then she additionally realized that the second *came* from the first. Spider was in Collagesity. Spider was (back) in the collages!

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0613, collages 2d, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Omega^^, Southern

00340613

“We’re struggling to get to the end, W.”

“We’ll make it — have confidence. Put the kids on the back lawn of the castle and have them stare at the newly resurrected Roost Never Sleeps up on the peninsula’s high peak. Make *that* the focus from now on. You are doing well, swell even. Don’t worry about the tangents. You are focused on the peninsula and that is good. This is how it’s suppose to be.”

“Sorry about your beach,” I decided to insert. Wheeler — W. — had been kicked off for head butting Newt (and visa versa), but a different kind involving the latter more than the former. Darn postmodern beachwear! But there’s more places to hang out here and stay true to the location. Now to those kids…

“It’s just as big as the old one, maybe bigger.” Liz Struthers, proposed present and future daughter, grandkid to Newt and Wheeler, I mean, Wheeler and Newt. “I’ve seen pictures.”

“Center of Our Nautilus for sure,” spoke projected mother Shelley Struthers. “Great Summer Project!”

“Summer?” questioned the little one who sprang from her loins in a future time, probably about as far up as Wheeler went to retrieve that bathing suit. Liz indicated this was Fall already, number of days in, actually.

Shelley was overjoyed. She’d skipped over a season. She was starting to age faster!

She’d check the downstairs works later.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0613, Nautilus, North, Rooster's Peninsula

00330613

I have been welcomed by neighbors on Rooster’s Peninsula more than I could have hoped for. I have a new home.

Many more stories to tell here, but perhaps not in this current photo-novel, 33 of a set.

Except maybe the library, the center of it all for me. Use to be anyway. Frozen center now. Controlled by MOA down in the basement. Let’s take a look through head librarian Miss Ouri who comes to us by way of Illinois-Kentucky. Characters are compacting; memories condensing. Soon 6 will be the same as 9 and visa versa. Compacting, compacting. Where’s 7 and 8 (and so forth)?

I told my similarly castle dwelling neighbor to the south that there used to be a 3rd castle in the area, largest of all and most unique. Never Sleep it was called, which I’ve translated into my own peculiar Our Second Lyfe mythology as Roost Never Sleeps, a corruption of Neil Young’s 70s album title “Rust Never Sleeps”.

Right over there on that leftmost, now barren beige peak it was, highest of the peninsula. Dominance in former days. The legend lives on.

http://www.neversleepvisions.com/about/

And now me in the middle of it all. Back to the library…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0613, Nautilus, North, Rooster's Peninsula

319

Venus had finished her song. Wasn’t her worst but wasn’t her best. Lorster… Lester, I recall. Must get back to the purple door, another door to open if we now have the key. And we might.

“Well I’ll be,” he said, withdrawing it from sudsy purple. Not poop after all! Thanks Dovie!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0613, Nautilus, Retirement Islands, Wild West, Yd Island^

yellow now between red and blue

“Have you heard the Art Box is going under?” she says, having stared at it enough.

“Just rumor. Speculation,” replies the heavily tattooed girl wearing red beside her.

The non-tattooed, blue wearing one to her right also answers. “Dead as a doorknob,” she weighs in. “End of February.”

“Not quite,” the red one returns.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0613, Nautilus, Retirement Islands, Wild West

go team

“This blue panther on the western edge of Crisp Sea,” he spoke in a surprisingly regular voice for such a cartoony figure. “Is that the same as Paul?” He was helping. He really was.

“I don’t know. I’ll send Wheeler over there to take the plunge.” Plunge was code for “going (further) inworld”, at least between us new buds. How lucky I was to find him as a relative freebie on the marketplace, this pin cushiony little fellow!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0613, Collagesity Fordham, Crisp Sea, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Wild West

reversed

The sim above Bart had finally turned from a raspberry shade of color back to clear, indicating it was online again. He could return to his boat that he rented to impress his new “girlfriend”. He turned the sky raspberry instead and went to work.

—–

We don’t need Axis-Windmill between us to know this is all about TILE, Guyd.”

“We sure do, Rebl,” the fellow cat-person answered, but not a fellow like in a boy. Two girls and two cats. But that was about all they had in common.

“Better get over to the boat, Guyd, see what SID is up to.”

“That isn’t SID.” Yellow and green eyed Guyd tried to disagree with red-blue eyed Rebl at every important turn, and this was certainly one of ’em. Guyd felt SID was a character that didn’t need to be introduced in this here photo-novel, 29 in a series… in a series…

“I know,” agreed Rebl, surprising Guyd and knocking him out of his usual anti-Rebl mode. “This is Bart.” Both made “O”s with their mouth, as if they’d surprised each other. It was the first time they synchronized since Tuesday. 2 years ago.

—-

“DONT”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0613, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

six and seven

She woke up with her mission. Go through the SOS flea market toward the plane. Find the hole in the fence and turn left. Therein lies the answer to everything, or at least 42. What’s within will not be what it seems.

—–

The plane, check. But not the flea market before her. The cat on a nearby plank of wood meowed an answer but it was not 42. Something about dinner time being only 2 hours or so away now. Useless for her, although encouraging for the cat. She moves right, since left is…

… hold on.

In the secret basement lair of the large house to her left, biggest in town:

Only 2 hours till dinner time, thinks Greg Ogden with exactly the right number of G’s in his name. Better change.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0613, Paper Soap, Soap

redneck trailer

“Interesting choice of shows, Martha. Do you like aliens?”

“Dunno, whatofit?” Her voice was raspy, as if she’d smoked a 100 cigarettes a day for her 45 years of life. At least the days she was able to reach her mouth with her hand in a coordinated way, that is, beyond infancy and early childhood. She’d had a rough life, and didn’t expect to live past 65 or so. She wasn’t planning on retirement. Her husband Jack was around, but in a wheelchair over at the Asylum. He’d seen things in the dark, heard rumors. So, yeah, she was interested in aliens. She was *studying* them. Must keep deflecting Agent 47 or whatever the f-ck they’re up to down at the station. “Want some pieee?” Pie was code for sexy good times in town. Some of these smart looking ones liked her type. In fact she had a website; must make ends meet *somehow*. Plus she had to have money for her cigarettes. Where were her cigarettes?

The agent was staring unblinkingly at her. She hated when they did that; maybe did something to their eyes in childhood. And she’s heard they need very little sleep. They stay up and read manga most of the night, analyzing it to pieces. Or so she’s heard. “Sooooooo. Taking that for a no?”

“Martha,” he starts firmly. “You know us agents accumulate knowledge on the residents of this town. It’s like coral; my brain is like coral, *our* brain. We are a hive.”

“Soooooo. Nooooooo?”

He stared at the tv screen again. He stared a very long time, then: “How many minutes for the information I need?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0613, Paper Soap, Soap