Category Archives: 0617

April 13, 2021 · 5:22 am

dream’s end

Of course I got lost in the maze that is my home. This happened even in childhood when I was more familiar with the place. But when I spotted the dummy with the red tie in the middle of the road I knew I was close. Me! They made me a martyr, just because I was special. The 5 were still inside of me all right, all taking orderly turns now, no fighting or jostling for top position. They’ve learned to cooperate. I’ve taught them well. Along with Miss Graham of course. I wonder where *she* is now?

Onward to the motel.

—–

The door was open. “Mom?” I called in.

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February 7, 2021 · 9:46 am

Line of Linden’s

He was back in the small Linden woods just across the road from the Active Urban Mall, in turn just north of the Urban ice cream parlor — again, no relation that I know of. Point is, he was as far away from the sweets and especially that cursed strawberry-pineapple swirl as possible while still remaining active. Because he had to to fit into the hole, the whole “fit to fit” thing he’d come up with as a slogan, with posters all over the heart of town now. He’d soon be a true, local hero; he *was* a hero. Thanks to him rescuing those rabbit people over in Kitaro from the fires. But he felt he had an obligation to do that. He was, after all, partially responsible for the bomb destroying their quaint village. It should have hit the ice cream parlor! Oh well, The Line dictates where things hit and don’t hit. Take Kingpost: spared during the Great Civil War between northern and southern Maebaleia/Satori, yet conjoined and resonantly named King’s Stone and Druid’s Post a number of sims to the east were bombed almost back to stone; I’ll try to make a post about that horrible event which created confusingly named Lake Kingpost soon.

The woods were chilly tonight, not like the warm, vanilla colored couch of the ice cream parlor where he could lay his still quite pudgy, off-white garbed self like a baby in a manger. This was roughing it in comparison. No sweets, though — that’s the point. He puts his arms around his torso and shivers, eagerly waiting for the coming of sweet golden dawn.

—–

Elvis Kannelvis woke up. His head had been cleared of the remaining effects of the sweets. Cursed strawberry-pineapple! He realized The Line, amplified by the Linden trees around him — just enough to cause the effect — had made him dream strange things, like the burning of Strange Isle, like the bombing of Kitaro when actually Kingpost in the opposite direction was hit — or was it Kings Stone + Druid’s Post? Yes, the latter (two). That’s the explosion Tealy and Tillie saw that day in early May before their visit to Aunt Ginger in an attempt to right things on The Line. Tealy and Tillie were on The Line; Elvis Kannelvis, especially while in the sweets shop, was on The Line; sweet Wendy Wilson dressed in two different dresses soon to be one was on The Line over at her pirate outpost bar in Kingpost. And then finally Aunt Ginger to the far east, as east as you can go on The Line as Kingpost is to the west (and King’s Stone and Druid’s Post kind of more to the middle). Blue Bear Y and Wanda the Lower Minoan seem to be heading to her camp as well. To get a piece of Ginger, although the two visitors to her island are bickering about the decision. Was Wendy actually named Wanda and a secret miniature? That’s only one mystery awaiting us in Section 07.

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December 29, 2020 · 9:32 am

Heaven

“Did you find her yet, my little, precious Herbert Glenn Gold down at my feet?”

“I… suppose you mean Tessa,” he said up with a markedly weaker voice than Parasol’s. “I… *know* you mean..”

“You’re stalling,” Parasol declared down toward her other feet. The ones of the Rainbow Butterfly; Pickle I’ve called it in this here blog and attached photo-novel, about to be closed up for a day or three. Just to be complete, Parasol is also the same as Witch Hazel, but she must make a choice first. That of red (service to self). Blue would be better, and so she keeps pressing. The girl must be found, she rationalizes. *Then* I can decide which way to flip! This seemed to be an error of thinking. Herbert Glenn Gold was about to pass through her legs and leave, she sensed. He had had enough of abuses; had to put up with a lot of this with his then wife April Mae Flowers. Former: because he was dead now. She decided to use this angle to create a save.

“Would you like me to tell you how you died? Would you wish now to know how you got *here*?” The fiery Golden Sphere beside them spun on without noise. There was no air yet they talk.

Herbert Glenn Gold pondered again whether he wanted to know this. Would it help? He decided before, in the long run, it wouldn’t. He would still be taking the psychological pictures wherever he went. The portal could not be sealed back up. He affirms this to Parasol above him. He knew she was somehow responsible for him. It was a weird relationship, with many incarnations. Father, mother, brother, sister, wife, husband, uncle, aunt, so on. But for now it was more perhaps a mother-son relationship, with he being the son. Gold, like the.

“*Herbert*,” she interrupted his reverie. “I need the girl.”

END OF “SUNKLANDS 2020-2021 WINTER” PART 1!

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July 16, 2020 · 8:41 am

loss 03

“I watched her and Linda Halsey dance and dance around the sacred circle, waiting for a pause where I could insert my question, which was: What is the future of Collagesity in Urqhart? I needed to hear it from Golden Josephine or Rhiannon or whatever her name was currently. And Linda Halsey — still Linda Halsey, and not Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child. Another “bad” sign. The Tower card turned up when she appeared at the table a couple of weeks ago, taking CLPHC’s place there. CLPHC equals Collagesity intact and remaining in the area. Linda Halsey equals the opposite. Destruction; derezzing. There was actually no use in hanging around. Observing Baker Bloch knew this as a fact. There was no need for a clarifying card. But Baker forced the issues anyway.

“Hey!’ he called to the two dancing fools for girls. “A little help here!” So rude. Not very characteristic of Baker Bloch either. More a trait of, say, Roger Pine Ridge.

Golden Josephine didn’t stop prancing. Neither did Linda Halsey. But after a moment, Golden called over her shoulder: “Whadda you want?” The music was intoxicating to them, and probably to Baker in a different way. It was a combination of Roger’s “On the Run” and Judy’s “Over the Rainbow”, twirling in and out of each other like the two dancers here themselves. Must be a match.

“A clarification card!” shouted Baker over the music. Or an attempt to. There was barely a hole to find in the combo, so dense it was. Like two people sitting in the same chair. The music and dance went on and on. Finally Golden Josephine broke free. Linda kept doing what she does now. But the figure was different: Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child.

Baker points as Golden Josephine approached. “What gives?” he asked about the transformation of the now lone dancer.

“Let’s look  at that card and maybe we can tell.”

—–

But something else then came up. The *real* Rhiannon made an appearance, replacing the fake, golden one. She seemed to be in tune with magical juxtapositions as well. She was also thinking of giving up her land adjacent (or thereabouts) to my Collagesity. She told me about the runes on a mushroom near me. I asked her if I should just have the question in mind and then touch “spread”. I knew little about runes. She affirmed this. I chose past/present/future. I had in mind this was the past/present/future of Collagesity itself. I didn’t want to just ask if I should give up Collagesity in Urqhart (or thereabouts). My desire was to broaden the picture a bit.

“What do you think?” I asked over. She was multitasking like myself. I was, of course, creating this blog post. She was working on her fairy forest.

Then she was gone, wishing me luck on my choices before leaving. “But…” I cried into the void now, “I don’t know what it means!”

Maybe it means nothing — and it does for me, in this moment. I didn’t need clarification. The meeting with the actual Rhiannon told me everything I need to know. Thank you.

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May 26, 2020 · 7:44 am

Pipe Room 03

Her future besties Tronesisa “Blue Eyes” and Duncan “Avocado” were already there, playing up a storm. She realized a Void needed to be filled. The drum set beckoned. She already had drumsticks sticking out her back pocket. She tended to carry them everywhere she went now. The drumsticks were sure to go.

She sits in the middle, sticks at ready.

Tom Banks reenters the room. “Oh, so you’re trying to get out of this through a trance, huh.” He draws his gun again.

There was only one thing left to do for Marsha “Pink” Krakow. “Hit it!” she shouted at the top of her lungs while the sticks traveled down. The whiteness takes her.

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April 2, 2020 · 9:07 am

middle end 03

He’s gone as far as possible into the past from the future present. He can only peer inside. But this star — is it the key? Is it — the *egg*?

Barry X. Vampire suddenly realizes he shouldn’t have killed off Jeffrie Phillips in his new novel, and that Arthur Kill is now over his head in searching for the egg. Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child shouldn’t have been bumped off either. Arthur Kill should have remained on Staten Island. Marty should have never summoned him. The list goes on and on actually. He’ll have to destroy pages 32-64 as soon as he gets back to his campsite apartment. 1/2 of his novel suddenly vanished into thin air! But this star in front of him, illuminated by the red, is real. The star, this Etoile object, means something.

Peter, he understood, looking at a map in his head as well. Tracy Austin — Katy Kidd’s mother, who of course grows up to be Kate (The Real) McCoy. Tennis — a friend (88). “Lamb.” Peter, who seems to be the same as Axis even if he himself doesn’t realize it yet, is trapped in Fearzum — just like I am — because he is one with the Lamb, one with God perhaps. The Lord: The Lamb.  Wheeler (Venus) has made it so. Marty has just made himself Starless and Bible Black, losing what is in front of me to behold. The star! “Etoile,” he repeats aloud.

He stares and stares until he becomes one with it.

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January 27, 2020 · 7:04 am

lost

She was indeed underwater but not in the right place. Damn confusing town! she cussed to herself. “Excuse me sir,” she requested to the fish butcher who was working down here. A larger fish swam between Parasol and him, eclipsing the man for a moment. Then she continued.

“I’m looking for Kuckoo’s place.”

“Loco?” the man tried back between chops. He was very fast, and was almost ready for a second gutting as they spoke.

“No — *Kuck*- koo. Kuckoo Kuail.” Her red and blue eyes burned brightly into the man. She wanted him to understand but saw he probably didn’t. She rechecked the psychological photograph taken earlier and tried again, using a different landmark. “How about the, um, Palace Hotel.” The first name of the hotel was cut off in the photograph. Hopefully this will provide enough information.

The butcher slung another fish in front of him and dropped the just gutted one in a metal bucket at his foot. “That one is for supper later,” he said, pausing for a smile, red chopper still for a moment. “No tell, no tell!”

“Okay, I won’t tell. But the hotel…”

“Ah, yes. So, I, ah, know that place you are talking about. You are looking for someone in particular? But not, ahem, *Loco*.”

“No. Loco doesn’t exist. I was looking for Kuckoo…”

“Oh… KUCK-koo,” the man suddenly beamed, resuming his cutting. “Now I know. She has two kids, yes?”

“I don’t know about that. I’m just looking for her house.” She was actually looking for the whiteyes Axis found earlier but of course didn’t mention this. It was on top of a barrel only a couple yards from Kuckoo’s front door, which she knew from the photo.

“I will take you there,” the butcher said, setting down the tool of his trade. “You will walk with me…”

“That’s not –” but then Parasol stopped her protest, knowing she would never find the place without his help. Another fish swam between them. “Thank you.”

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November 26, 2019 · 9:31 am

ind

She brought her psychic granddaughter Toddles along with her. Donning the magical belt, she walked straight toward the green man removing his own head within the Red Umbrella. Beckoning…

beckoning…

SHOCK.

In.

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July 5, 2019 · 8:34 am

fork

Little Oakley Annie and Big Wanda were foraging for fire kindling in the small forest when they heard the car roar by then suddenly screech to a halt. LOA threw down the sticks she was holding and moved over to the cliff on the edge of the woods. They had prepared for this moment. “The car,” she whispered to Big Wanda, now standing behind her and gazing too. “A *fast* car. We could use a replacement for that old red clunker we’re now using.”

“Which you stole off that farmer before you shot his head off,” whispered back Big Wanda.

“Well — he *sneezed* in front of me. How dare him.”

Despite wanting to protest again for the needlessness of the violence, Big Wanda remained silent. But, like Keith B. in front of her here, she too had a choice to make soon. Sooner than Keith, even.

Little Oakley Annie aimed her ever-present gun at Keith’s head. “I’ll make sure I get a clean hit so we won’t damage the Porsche. The other dude will then run and we can mow him down too. Like grasssss.” She pulled the…

Big Wanda karate chopped Little Oakley Annie’s arm down, making her almost shoot her own foot. “What the…!”, and then she turned toward her partner in crime, gun still in hand. The weapon pointed to the face, the mouth, the nose, while the holder glared. “I should have done this a looong time ago, ” she then threatens, moving toward Big Wanda while the latter retreats, now perched on the edge of the cliff. “You almost disappointed me at the Your Mama concert. 12 years in the future, 12 years in the future, 12 years in the future…”

“Hey up there!” Keith shouts from the road, quickly moving toward the cliff from the car. Jim A. Brown, however, remains frozen in place in the passenger seat. He would always remain frozen in place from now on. Because he was stuck in time.

And there was noone at the cliff any longer. Little Oakley Annie and Big Wanda’s journey through time had also ended, the Big Loop broken.

Keith looked back at the car and frozen Jim B., then back toward the empty cliff. “The Room,” he muttered. “The Room did this.” He dropped to the roads and gave thanks.

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May 4, 2019 · 2:17 am

prep

“Blueberry Hill,” spoke wise bee-person Hucka Doobie at the recently relocated Blue Feather in 7 Stones while pointing at the appropriate place on the depicted map. “Reinforced by Orange(dale) just above. Formerly Blue *Berry* Hill. Hidden on the former Bee County map LINK. But it’s actually Violet… Violet Beauregarde of the Willy Wonka franchise; golden ticket winner. Puffed up like a blueberry at the dessert end of her 3 course gum chew and rolled away by the Oompa Loompas at the end of their song like a giant marble. Violet… a balance between Red (Hill) and Blue (Mountain). Combo, really, like the pigments.”

Hucka turns. “Questions?”

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