Category Archives: 06

November 28, 2025 · 9:51 pm

00480606

“Gemilly!? But… we were suppose to be a *team*!”

“Gem-i-LEE!!! Yeah just *keep* on walking! WO-maan! Woe to me for ever getting *involved* with you!” he continued to sulk.

He followed her for a couple more football fields worth of terrain until he gave up as he watched her move past that rocky hill with the single tree on top. And he too was single now. A lone man in a heavily masculine oriented metaverse that didn’t care that much about the girl to begin with. Good for her that she ran away.

—–

Eventually she found her way to an even better role on an entirely different planet with a really proper script for her to act from, even donned his Atlantis style clothes to symbolically complete the exodus from the Gardenspot of the Universe that some call Jemison. The fools, she thought while continue to walk in a straight line away from it all, even at this great great distance. Who’s the fairer sex now, Rib Boy? TBC?

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November 28, 2025 · 2:03 pm

00480605

Passing by this root system the other night I could have swore it spelled out “Howdy Stranger”. In fact, I *know* it did. But when I tried to recreate the spelling: nothing really that close. How could this be? Was it just some kind of sleepy time hallucination? Or was it someone… something communicating with me inside the game again, like had happened before with other ones. *Swore* it said, “Howdy Stranger”; even stopped the video at that point, thinking I’d come back to it to take a snapshot the next day and it would obviously — *obviously* — still be there. But, no.

Through the character of Albertville Mercury Spaghettiboro, now on Jemison in the Alpha Centari system in the metaverse of Starfield, I planned to talk about this “illusion” with on again off again girlfriend Gemilly Niceniece, a toolmaker from Kuum. I enter the underground section of New Atlanta called Brown Well either because of the color or the frequent brown outs it experiences — 50/50 split opinion on which it really is, or 48/52 as I better recall, although I don’t know which side has the slight advantage if that’s the case.

I spot her at the corner of Charlie and Hustle and throw her a, “You coming?”, which she replied, “In a minute, waiting on a part.” “Okay,” I said and thought about blowing her a kiss but then decided better as I headed over to Kay’s to save us a table.

Should be *any* moment, hmm. Food getting cold now, though. Better start without her, hmph. The revelation might have to wait until another day.

“*There* you are. Sorry I started without you. Did you (nom nom nom) get the part you needed?” She nodded… and then got up to leave. She just wanted to come over to say goodbye.

That part turned out to be an act. As in another play. TBC

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November 24, 2025 · 7:52 am

00480604 (00420515 revisited (1/2 way))

“Get out the shot, honey. I’m trying to take a picture of that ghoul in the cemetery over there!”

—–

“My people were tough on crime. And they didn’t tolerate breaking the law either. We grew up in the shadow of a mountain that began with Wee-Wee. My mother, when we moved over here to the states in ’79, said to be proud of the name and where we came from. But I was embarrassed, always called it the alternate name of Onigbaporo however tongue-twisty and unmemorable that was to the white people of our new land. But when I found Pee Pee Creek over on the west side of Rodentia and its crazy cemetery and its baffling preacher church I knew I had also found a home again in this world of Our Second Lyfe. My mother was priestess before in the “Wee-wee” place we came from and now I became quote unquote priestess in the Pee Pee place, as male and female polarities also switched positions there. It all made some kind of beautiful, circular loop.”

I studied the photo she held in her hand, looked at the flat headed statue of her mother in the center square the townspeople chose to erect before they left, a permanent tribute to her famous presence in their small Nigerian burg. Then I looked up from the photo at Daisy’s flat hair, the perpetually shaving razor held by a ghostly, hovering hand next to it. I started to understand the dynamics involved. But there was still the explanation of her non-colored father remaining. Non, hmm, I pondered. Could that be the reason for the obsession with creating the perfect, non-alcoholic brew? Turns out this was so… partially. TBC

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0604, Africa, Dokken Hollow, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, NVFS, Texas

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November 22, 2025 · 7:43 am

00480603 (escaping Miss Ouri)

“I’m telling you, Mike,” Pat relays telepathically. “If the next box is one specific color, one *specific* color… then we can’t kill her. We just can’t.

“We can’t kill her brother of mine (sigh).”

2 boxes later, past the demonstration of TILE that placated the onlooking, desirous ghouls, she finds the key, the center of it all.

Switching from colored to black and white, she can now unlock the door with the Newton-Jasper cube indicating scale.

Damn, thinks Mike. 2nd one today.

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November 20, 2025 · 10:26 pm

00480602 (Alabama Phoenix)

I am far away from you now.

But I will return.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0602, Alabama, C2077, Small China, Starfield

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November 19, 2025 · 4:18 pm

00480601 (“Clucky?” (inland sea too))

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August 28, 2025 · 6:05 pm

00470616

“Soo, decision time, reunited family of mine. Which New Island is New…

“… and which is Old?” But in staring at the screen before Wheeler, Shelley and Eddy, the answer becomes obvious to presenter Newt; right in front of his face. Daughter Shelley’s black and white dream island, the one she wrote the novel “Hmm” about to promote, is the old one. And the colorful Our Second Lyfe version, virtual but also more real in that way, is New. And they’re linked through Barnaby (Point), an artist colony and perhaps the place Shelley actually settles down in after a stint at Hazel and which could turn into Shelley’s true home… *in each,* her own place apart from Leeman or Leemon the creator of it all. A place that can be *her* creation too. Co-creator she can become. Together moving forward, one energizing the other. Like a game of tennis. Back to you!

END OF “SUNKLANDS 2025 MIDDLE”!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0616, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, New Island^, NVFS

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August 28, 2025 · 4:02 pm

00470615

“Oh Eddy. Look at the time. We’ve got to end this thing (!).” But they stood still, at least for a while.

“You were complimented, you know,” he said after a spell.

“Was I?” She shifted her position toward him. She was never complimented. Especially by you-know-who.

“Yeah. Inside the Dark Peak. Someone messaged me, said that I was a lucky lucky boy to have you, And I am (!).” He left out the “beautiful” part for some reason. He probably shouldn’t have, maybe switching it out with lovely. Too late now.

“Oh Ed. That’s sweet (!).” And she leaned over and kissed him on not the mouth but the cheek. After a pause: “Soo… should we go back this morning?”

“Austin’s Island?” he said, thinking she might have meant another location.

“Whichever.” And after making sure all their clothes and attachments had rezzed in properly in this safer space to prevent lag or even premature log off (happens more than it should for them, especially Shelley), they teleported away from this place. The Ring just couldn’t hold them any longer.

Goodbye Old New Island. Or New New Island — haven’t decided which is which yet. Or actually which one is realer than the other. I’m guessing New, whichever that turns out to be. We’ll see soon enough!

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August 27, 2025 · 3:19 pm

00470614 (When one door closes…)

Lexi enters her rented Gaston room once more, notices things are a bit different, a bit off. Not as much character now. That wall over there, she then spots it. Untextured, and with no secret door. And that… window?

—–

He moved the secret door formerly beneath this flapper girls painting back behind the spiral staircase going upwards if not downwards. Just in time, because dizzy Philip needed a place to lie down after his episode, guest bedroom formed behind it in the process. “You stay here as long as you need, Philip, to recover. I’ll make sure Lexi and Nada know where you are.”

“Rest,” is all he could manage from his prostrate position, then shut his eyes again.

Soon Lexi and Nada were also by his side in this tiny, crowded new room. “Is he dying?” Nada asked Frank and Lexi, a small portion of her only 1/2 hoping he wasn’t. “Um,” says Lexi. “Er,” says Frank. “He’s had these episodes before,” stated a new person coming through the secret door and entering. Or simply standing at the “door” because there wasn’t any more room in the room. Marion Star Harding, named for yet another Ohio president that was never a president. Like R. “Booger” Hayes before him, the president/non-president that started all that. Hayes, Garfield, Harrison, McKinkley, Taft, Harding. Yeah: that’s the end of it, at least for the good people of Ohio. And Harding knew fellow Ohioan Sherwood Anderson, penner of “Winesburg”, or at least Anderson’s father. In the small village of Caledonia of that state. More synchy stuff. Played in a school band with him most likely, although the records aren’t definitive. No recording of their music either of course, that being back in the late 1800s. Might as well be from the Dark Ages. Back to the action…

“Who *are* you?” exclaimed Frank, wondering how this stranger found out about his castle in the skies… in *disguise*. He looks at both Nada and Lexi on either side. “Friend of yours perhaps?” producing headshakes instead of the expected nods. “They can’t remember,” says Marion to this surprise, because, as we’ve seen, they all know each other in Gaston. *Knew* each other. “Not with *you* around.”

“Me?” utters Frank innocently. Then it begins to dawn on him. He *wrote* about this. As he recalled the character, Marion Star Harding fades from the scene. Philip has a new original partner in crime.

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August 26, 2025 · 7:44 am

00470613

“You were standing right where you are now,” explained Philip as best he could from the couch again. “You said, get this, Newton’s ship *just blew up*. Like *that’s* going to happen. We’ll be out of here by tomorrow’s today. I’m on record for not liking it but that’s what’ll happen I suppose. Nawt Vaya here we come (sarcastic tone of voice).”

“But…” stammered Marion, indeed at the window and that’s about it for the truth of Philip’s talk, at least in his own world view. “… Newton’s ship *did* blow up. The atomics he used to supercharge the sim skipper malfunctioned — imagine that: dangerous atomic *fission*. If only he’d waited for fusion, but I guess we didn’t have the time. OR the effort, pheh.”

“Fission — dangerous? Nah. You’re on drugs, Marion.”

“*You’re* on drugs,” Marion quickly shot back.

And Philip realized he was, or the equivalent thereof.

It was that damn High Speed game. It reactivated something in his brain. He was in 2 places at once when… well, you know. Nowhere at all actually. The Void.

He kept falling and falling and falling. “Help!” he yelped. “Hellllllppppp!” But noone was there, not even a single Beatle. If he would have waited for Yesterday, but he assumed that would only be tracking backwards. Right over the retired, NON-atomic sim skipper named Dizzy Miss Lizzy Gastonites will have to manage with from now on, or at least until fusion.

But it doesn’t have the power to get them all the way to Nawt Vaya. Just some neighboring sims like Hard Days Night and Californication at best. Local travel only.

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