There was a time when the Prince and Princess danced with joy all over their royal home that was a castle.
But that was before the coming of the proletariat, their offspring in effect. As transformed into King and Queen they now had to be chained to their thrones and deal with a troublesome 3rd. It didn’t sit well with them.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0047, 0205, Happy Town, LSD
He was giving the finishing touches on his patented veggie stew hot dogs when he looked forward through the wisps of steam rising from Forman George’s old grill and had a vision, as if on an invisible screen before him.
Another place with flowers besides these exotic ones from the Amazon (store) all around, making it smell like a jungle out here on the patio where he was preparing food for Shelley Marsha and his cousin also originally named Edward. “2 fer 1,” he whispered to himself and himself only, watching the vast field of them wave strong and free in the brisk wind as their imaginary scent mixed in with the others from reality. And then he heard someone running behind him, just like at the beginning of it all, his genesis. Now it can be revealed (sorry).
Common denominator: triangles. Slice to be more specific.
And then he simply forgot the whole hallucination ever happened, attention returned to those finishing touches.
“Stew dogs’ done!” he said proudly a 1/2 minute later, and then prepared the plates.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0204, Bellisaria, ENIGMA, Jeogeot, Nautilus, Nawt Vaya, Vortexville
“I have a confession, Eddy, my Edward.”
He looked up at her from his bench position, his standard sitting place in their very tall, very narrow new New Island dwelling spot shaped like a ring. “Yes, dearest?”
“I went over to Fishers Island last night.”
“Umm… in your dreams?” Eddy asked of his lover, his *inventor* Shelley. Again the red haired version. Just to be someone different or try to be.
“Nah, in reality. I wanted to check out the location of the K2 lounge. The, ahem, *landlord* said it was gone now in the text accompanying her profile picks, along with the attached cafe. Yup — both gone as I checked.”
“But — you were here all night,” countered Eddy. “You mean? … that period between supper and TV time, that hour?”
“Yup,” she said again. “And I was over there long enough to join some kind of academy. I think it was run by witches because they gave me this costume for free.” She quickly donned it. “Cool, huh!”
“Hazel, I mean, PHEH, *Shelley*, this is bad. Really bad.”
No, he thought, taking another gander. Not bad. He came up with another word: evil. Really evil.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0203, New Island^, Wallytown/Fishers Island^
“Great Shelley. Now there’s an alien involved. I *told* you we should have never left Sandraman.”
“And dandelions (!)” she added to her newly minted husband Eddy’s declaration, attention on something up front instead of ’round back. Opposites they were in many ways, light and dark. Eddy still enjoyed the triple form of the number 6 back where they came from, back over there around that hill/mountain in the distance you can still see from here. He never tired of it. Slave to it even, he was. Because he actually doesn’t have his own independence. Apart from Shelley. Minted; created. Like Albert/Douglas before him. Or actually after him, since the avatar named Eddy, D’aigle comes from an earlier photo-novel than the last one. Just after my retirement. Probably 33 without checking. Feels like he’s always been around now, along with his twin cousin Edward Daigle.
Freedom, she though about once more, stare remaining forward. Like seeds blowing away in the wind. 7 over 6 but still remembering where it came from. Never forget my friend, never forget.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0202, New Island^
“We can’t go back to Holland again?” he questions, staring at the newest image on the screen.
“Oh Eddy, we can’t even get to the top of Mt. Sandraman without being distracted, much less another place in another world. Be here in the here and now. Be Free.”
“Let’s go!” he urged. But he stood still.
—–
“Oh look, the image is changing into something else we know. Wallytown. On (nearby) Fishers Island. Remember?”
“Of course I remember,” responded Shelley, still standing behind him in her finest cashmere bathrobe, still waiting on a decision. Where to go, where to go? Somewhere away from *here*. Or at least go to that hill that likes to call itself a mountain *within* here, pheh. She tires of being chained as an object. 6 6 6 is over. It’s now 7. Freedom.
But they stood still.
—–
Too late, Eddy. Too late. The dream Spider has arrived.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0201, Europe, Holland, New Island^, Wallytown/Fishers Island^
She was easily enough trapped just in the sim of Sandraman. I didn’t need the rest of this *old* New Island to do the trick. The other New Island, the *real* one as it were, will remain a black and white dream inside her head at night. *My* dream.
Night night, sweet Shelley. See you on the other side, he he he. Ho ho. (sigh) Hu.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0117, New Island^
She ran on the beach the following morning and had much to ponder about. Halfway through her visit with Leeman or Leemon she excused herself and went into his small 1 toilet, 1 sink, no tub or shower bathroom in the hallway and inserted her umbrella contact lenses so that she could record what was being said. She figured he wouldn’t mind since he was going to write a book about New Island history anyway. She’d just not share her gathered information to anyone beforehand.
She knew she had to select a place to buy some property, build a home, become part of a tribe, a community. Since she’s also determined she was going to stay here on this New Island, bringing Eddy over too at some point in the process. Hazel seemed like the logical choice to settle down in. Right nearby Leeman/Leemon’s home where she can visit for more talks — he reinforced during her visit to come back any time. So she stayed in the Hazel Hotel last night just to check out more of the vibe. She detected absolutely no signs of wickedness in the air through various conversations and just poking her nose around in general, no spell books, potions, or sigils anywhere to be found, etc. And that night while trying to go to sleep despite all the new (island) thoughts buzzing around her skull, she had an illumination: *she* was going to write a book too. Fictional not factual. She already had a title. “The Hmm.” Stepping on his toes? She hoped not.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0047, 0116, New Island^
“Oh shoot, Hucka,” Marion says at the door, peering in. “No seats together left up front. We’ll have to sit on the couch further away from the stage.”
“Fine with me!” she responded, knowing the hips did their job on the way over. They’d pay more attention to cuddling than comedy this night fer sure. Besides, they watch this act every Wednesday rain or shine, know every line that’s going to be uttered. Firesign Theatre: the house group at Gaston’s downtown Rhino. Unless it’s uptown. We’ll see.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0115, Gaston^^
“‘How can you not hear it?’ he might say to me in frustration. ‘Are you *deaf*?'”
“I say, ‘your work is an impenetrable sphere, reflections all around but not from itself.’ Here:”
“That’s a great story, baker b.,” Hucka said, looking at the mirror ball he pulled up on his monitor. “It really is. But I must buzz off elsewhere to use the old nomenclature.”
“Okay, alright. *Bye* I guess,” I say as I watch her — or him — fly away into the blue blue skies. Hucka D. the Bee showed up again after so long only to leave so quickly!
—–
“He thinks I’ve reverted to bee form, Marion. I, of course, haven’t.”
“No you *haven’t*,” expresses Marion Star Harding, taking all her womanhood in from top to bottom from his seat opposite her at the Welcome to Mimosa tavern, sign lost in the Great Wind Storm of ’02 (“The Great Blow”). No antennae even, now. “Why?” he had to ask.
“Oh, I don’t know. He’s trying so hard to understand the various creators lining up around him now, sees the parallels to them in himself; alternate paths.” I want to keep him productive, was the underlying meaning.
“You’re a fine woman,” Marion said to this. “Very fine. Now let’s walk over to the Rhino and see that comedy group again we so love.”
“You first,” she said with a sly smile.
“No, *you* this time, he he.”
“Alright.” And she got up, wondering if she had the hang of swinging her hips properly. Would this be the last vestige of her bee self and the awkward duck walk showing up? Turns out it wasn’t — she did fine. Very fine. Marion looked on in pleasure and happiness the whole 3 blocks over.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0114, Gaston^^
“The 420 folder is getting too full, baker b.”
“Hucka!”
“In the exoskeleton!”
“The Atom is part of the CHRO system, which is pronounced like Crow,” she begins. “Someone had to exhibit at the Red Arrow for all this to surface again. And then there’s the ROCKSTAR direction — always the ROCKSTAR direction now.” She paused to wipe some pollen from her mouth. Hucka D. Was he even a she now?? “You went back to Red Row, found nada. Not even the bird-dog conjunction. Something had shifted. Something had, indeed, been removed.”
“The dog.”
“Actually the bird but we can assume that means the dog. As in, the dog was never highlighted (by the bird) in the first place. Nothing to be removed. No Spider.” She paused. “You’ll figure it out,” she reassured, a seemingly innocuous statement that surprisingly irritated me.
“Can I see you? Can I see where we are?”
“The maps rise up to meet you,” she then stated.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0113, New York, Tennessee
Sunklands 