Category Archives: Iris^^==

new!

The buffet was already laid out on the serving table at The Cones, my latest local eating and drinking establishment but this time for core avatars only, where they can let down their hair and be themselves and mingle amongst their other selves without the need for masks and separate identities. Take silhouetted Andy Warhole here on the upper deck, waiting for his date Marilyn to show up. But actually they were one core avatar and each knew the other knew this. In the moment. So while he waited, he was actually waiting for the single user of both, the single core used by this user, to simply change his costume to Marilyn’s, switch chairs, and then combine snapshots of each into one composite photo to make it seem the two were on a date. This happens over and over in the outside world, with little recognition by the avatars themselves. But here, at Sunklands Institute in the great Iris waterlands — swamp some derisively call it, like Roger Pine Ridge back in the days — separation could be relaxed and examined more from a distance, a perspective. Photo-novel 13, in fact, is all about getting back to core — that could be a subtitle.

The sun had just set when Warhole switched chairs and the collaging process mentioned above took place.

“Marilyn, so glad to see me, ahem, you again.”

“It’s purrr-fect here,” she cooed while staring out at the spot where the sun had just set, seeing no aftereffects commonly known as twilight, or the refraction and scattering of the sun’s rays caused by the atmosphere. Strange — this wouldn’t happen in the real world. Real Life. She decided to ask about this.

After Andy Warhole uttered the almost obligatory 5 or 6 repeats of her name, all in the same monotone, he responded properly. “No this isn’t real for certain, this — *world*.” But not being very philosophical he had no more to say about this. The DJ for the night showed up, and he mumbled, “About time.” It was Hilter, Chancellor of all of Germany by this point in time but not the all encompassing evil dude we know and despise by a slightly different name. So: 1939. Twenty years after the publication of the infamous Red Book.

Actually I have to bring in another core avatar to play Hilter, since Baker Bloch doesn’t have that costume or what’s more commonly called, in Our Second Lyfe terms, an “outfit”. So Bracket Jupiter is logged on since he does — two core avatars here are logged on simultaneously, which is common and even necessary in my work. He takes his position while I make another collage of Marilyn and Andy in the background. I add facelights to both to help highlight their position. Hilter waits calmly for it to be over before starting his first tune. And what would that tune be, you might ask? 1939… lemme check. INSERT PHOTO HERE

I believe it was Pink Floyd’s “On the Run” combined with Judy Garland’s “Over the Rainbow,” but difficult to say definitively because of the confusing effects of yet another collage.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0021, 0505, Heterocera, Iris^^==

Home

Blogging at Sunklands Institute while the Moon comes up.

Perch: the restaurant is still intact.

Angus Nuffin still cooks there; burns perch occasionally.

Magika Bean waits for her date.

“Hi baby doll.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0021, 0207, Heterocera, Iris^^==

spotted/not spotted

“Rrawf!”

“What’s that, Spot (Spot!)? Something out in the water?”

“Rrawf rrawf!”

“Better go take a look.”

“Rrawf!”

—–

“Come on, boy. Come on! (whistling: phw phw phw!). Okay, be that way scardy pants.”

“Wmpr Wmpr Wmpr.”

“Oh I’ll be all right.” [Gus] rows out to the Shallows.

—–

“Hmmm. Nothing out here but a couple of green leaves and that green thing over there that’s been here forever. Better go get Spot to a dog doctor. He’s seeing things!”

“I *told* you the Shallows was a bad idea for a tree,” he-she whispered sideways out of his-her mouth over to she-he.

“Oh shut up, you. Sounds like he’s going away.”

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west

Morris was very long and almost extended across this Aley designed Gilligan’s Island hammock. Morris also thought he might be green because he was seaweed. But this isn’t Morris, I realize. It’s someone else — green. C. Weed? Anyway, this, I believe, is his island.

Or peninsula.

Oh, he has a dog. And a wife. But it’s not Lou. Lou is Morris’ sister. Neither has anything to do with C. Weed or whatever his actual name is. Gus? Better get back to Lou and Morris sans C. Weed. Just noting that he exists and where his home probably is. Near Sunklands Institute; just on the other side of the Shallows with the splintered factions of Core-Alena now.

They form quite the nuclear family.


Dog (Gus?) on an actual island within the peninsula.


Wife in skybox conferring with Lou about their confusing roles.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0021, 0205, Heterocera, Iris^^==

break


Off to play video games in the Shallows with the boys.


Everyone taking their positions.


And… FIRE!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0021, 0107, Heterocera, Iris^^==

one more

“I think Moe stands for Missouri, Hucka Doobie. I believe Moe may own a Moe or Mo Island above and beyond a CC tavern. He knows the Parkville guy. They have the same boss.”

“Bed,” Hucka simply says.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0021, 0106, Cass City^, Heterocera, Iris^^==, Maebaleia/Satori

blacks

New Nun opens the attachment.

I do declare I believe that woman needs a cross and a crucifix to hold!, she thought, staring at the silhouetted figure and its dangerous curves.

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Who?

“How’d it go tonight, Duncan?”

“Oh, pretty good. I didn’t arrive until the meeting was almost over. All I heard about was some virus infecting the town. Something about zombies.”

“That would be the Resident Evil influence,” quickly spouted Baker Bloch, owner of this here Sunklands Institute, a private or, at best, semi-private estate. Collagesity was no more.

“I suppose.” Duncan Avocado was wondering when he could return home to VHC City and his apartment. George was probably hungry (and lonely) by now.

“Cindy A., Todd A., and, let’s see, Peter A.” Baker paused. “No that’s not right: *Jim* A. Who turned into Jim B.”

“Jim Brown, yes,” spoke up Duncan A., realizing where this was going.

“Anyway: the A.Team. Unwittingly borrowed from Resident Evil by me, but obviously for some kind of bigger reason.”

“The bomb, right.” Duncan A. looked around; dared to glance over his shoulder at the institute projecting largely from the water. It seemed right, seemed good. A good placement. He stared at Baker Bloch’s hat. He’d heard that if the hat was slightly iridescent it wasn’t really Baker. It was someone else. But no iridescence spotted in the moonlight on this table topped islet next to the new home. This must be Baker, he correctly deduced. Not the other one.

But who was *he* tonight?”

(to be continued?)

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Judgement

Although she was still probably the 256th most craziest thing in a crazy town of 256, it was determined by the court that Yoko Ona most likely had high functioning autism. Thus the lack of facial expressions. Thus the focus on marriage as a 50-50 split. She didn’t ask for more, but she also didn’t expect less. John and she were one zygote, traveling toward a rebirth across the universe. There was nothing evil in her since she was acting logically according to this premise. It was divide and conquer to others but just separation from unity for her. The verdict: innocent for reasons just listed. She had to undergo therapy. Thus the reason for the construction of this additional floor in the Burger Joint building. Her mental health and well-being were just that important.

All the witches in the coven chipped in to pay for it, Mid-Hazel footing the largest chunk. They all showed up at the first meeting, ready to support. Prosecutor George A. was not allowed, since he would just focus on the spitting, the humiliation for blog owner Baker B. in front of a cluster of Heartsdale fisherman eager for a show. Any kind of show in that milquetoast town. Baker B. through Baker Bloch forgave her.

The elemental battle within Toppsity was just theatrics, the court also judged. Tronesisia was not dead. Most likely she would appear again, fully functional and unscathed, in the next photo-novel (21!).

Yoko Ona had already been rejected by the town, thrown head down over the wall about a 1/2 year back, only to find her way further south, in the *deep* deep south, to Cassandra City to attempt to create a roshambo triangle, one hand on top of another hand on top of another hand and so on and so on. This created the bomb.

She *had* to make up for it, reverse the powers as it were. Another zygote affair. She and John together synthesized World of Lemon to parallel Lime World (aka Linden World or Lindenwold) in order to heal Our Second Lyfe and make North and South function together again. In the other directions, World of Lemon controlled the East, Linden World the west. From *Our* Second Lyfe perspective, it all begin in Da Boom with a great boom signaling fusion and spread. From the *other* way, we have Ratzenberger as the original sim and its absorbing, black (hole) rabbit, a sucking mechanism. All this was logical and true, one begetting the other (begetting the other). The problem had not been solved because there was no problem to solve. All was good, all was balanced.

—–

I have decided to downsize in Our Second Lyfe and My Second Lyfe in particular. Corsica turned out not to be the be all end all of mainland continents, the best fusion between virtual and real, namely through the state of Pennsylvania. All this still applied, but Peakology in and of itself is not the way forward. Neither is Sinkology, although that may be closer. With this I have created the Sunklands Institute from the old Blue Feather Building of Collagesity and set it down near the middle of the Heterocera continent, its eye. I will not worry about North-South-East-West from this point on as much as *Center*. I have made stories of all mainland continents and a good number of estate regions. Corsica is essentially “covered”, along with Jeogeot, Satori/Maebaleia, Omega, Gaeta, Heterocera, Sansara, Nautilus and even Linden home masses like Nascera. I have taken Collagesity about as far as it can go. I do not make collages any more outside of the photo-novels and that context. It is time to go home. Heterocera is as close to home in Our Second Lyfe as I can get. I have to return to the source.

END OF “COLLAGESITY 2020 MORE MIDDLE”!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0020, 0704, Heterocera, Iris^^==, Maebaleia/Satori, Toppsity^

loss 01

Rocking Roger Pine Ridge was blunt. “Why would I want to leave, Baker Bloch? I have everything here. And now there’s (an Iris) mystery hole, as you guys put it. ”

“*You’re* one of us guys, too,” non-rocking Baker emphasized from the couch more away from the view.

“Maybe.”

“And, besides, I didn’t think you liked it here in this swamp village I think you termed it at one time.”

“Circumstances change. Look… you can see the Moth Temple just beyond that palm tree with a long draw. Can you see it?” He points forward.

Baker Bloch didn’t want distractions tonight. “Yeah, I see it,” he replies without attempting to see, trusting Roger Pine Ridge’s claim. It was a looonnng draw at almost 2 sims, he estimates, but probably reachable. He took RPR’s word for it.

“Oh,” began Roger Pine Ridge after a lingering gander at the beloved temple which he thought of as the center of His Second Lyfe as a whole, if it wasn’t now the *hole*. “The girls make a ruckus downstairs on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and sometimes Sundays. Alternate Sundays I believe. But it’s only for a couple of hours in the afternoon and they clean up nicely.”

“You’re talking about Flip and Magika Bean,” Baker Bloch attempted to clarify. “The wrestling duo.”

“Yeah, who are actually Wheeler Wilson and Baker Blinker, I know. But they like their new names. And, like I said, they clean up…”

“Well,” Baker finished this time. “Better go. You think about what I said. Cassandra City might offer more possibilities than here. But then he dared to look out and extend his draw distance and suddenly doubted it. Yeah, the hole sealed the deal. Roger Pine Ridge, along with neighbor Grassy and Wheeler up more toward the temple itself might be here for good. He’d have to face that fact. Face the music of that fact. “Time,” or “Beach”. Depending on the way you flip it.

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