Category Archives: VHC City

January 30, 2020 · 7:21 am

end 04

Before heading over to Kowloon, Jer Left Horn makes a stop in VHC City to pause and reflect on the recent death of the user behind longtime Virtual Hotel Chelsea manager Enola Vaher. Although I didn’t know the avatar (or user), VHC City, centered around the huge hotel, figures prominently in my mythology through, primarily, The Diagonal, which is now one (Head) of 2 (also: Heart) I’ve found spanning the Heterocera continent. I hope the hotel can carry on beyond this blow, and certainly the rental situation there continues to be healthy and, most likely, self sustaining for a while. Many musical events go on all the time there as well.


Jer Left Horn at Enola Vaher’s “Finely Torn Id” gallery in what I call VHC City.

—–

Moving on to Kowloon, Jer Left Horn decides to first stop by Fish Head’s bar to catch up with all the latest news. The first thing he notices are the bent stools in the back.

“Fight in here, Head?” he questioned while sitting down at the nearest, upright stool, becoming suspicious off the top. He had his knife at ready in the belt under his jacket just in case.

“Oh, you know. Typical Tuesday night. Some of the Queen’s gang letting off steam.”

*You’re* one of the Queen’s gang, Jer Left Horn thinks to himself. Why the separation between you and them? The hand slides down to grip the handle of the knife.

“Like who?” he tried to ask as calmly as possible. “Norton Wise Turtle?” He forced a smile here. Everyone knew the big man-turtle was a first rate troublemaker.

“Yeah, him. And, let’s see — Space Ghost!”

“*Space Ghost*?” Jer Left Horn turns left. Then: nothing for a long while.

——

He wakes up in some kind of pod swimming with shrimp, it appeared. He keeps his eyes frozen, military training snapping into action in a moment of crisis.

“You’re getting old again, Space Ghost. Better head back to the time machine,” requested likewise observing TronAxis. “The shrimp have almost extracted all the information they need.” TronAxis returns his attention to Jer Left Horn’s floating form in the cylinder: the still frozen eyes, the glazed over look. Shouldn’t be long though, now, he thinks. Is there life already in that face?

The cylinder shatters. Jer Right Horn steps out, dry as a whistle, knife ready. The shrimp flip and flop helplessly around the floor amidst the spilled yellow liquid and broken glass, task unfinished. Now old Space Ghost knows he’s no match for the young prince and hobbles away from the scene as fast as possible. TronAxis stands steady, light disk at ready. He knew of Jer Left Horn’s military background — should have taken more steps to ensure his secureness. Hindsight is golden I suppose. But this is the way it was suppose to be, he adjusted to the situation. Me versus him.

A narrow boat materializes before the fleeing Space Ghost in the middle of the pool of water just beyond the pod room: Tessa, sans her driving challenged grandpa this time but still a dreamer. And this is the aforementioned Kow Pond, also known as Loon Lake. Indeed the center of it all. Thanks to Tessa.

“Gentlemen!” she called back into the shadows behind old Space Ghost. “Set down your arms!”

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June 30, 2019 · 8:11 am

The B.’s

Buster Damm dared to take off a tiny bit of time from studying and scouting to bring our old friend Duncan Avocado into the picture. They sat in the same VHC City diner, at the same table even where the original agreement was made. Duncan still wore the Pot-D heart-within-skeleton-hands pendant. Buster still knew where he was at any moment. “Sooo. Here we are, Duncan.”

“We are,” spoke Duncan plainly. He didn’t hesitate this time; he’d been around the cell block too many times in the meantime. “Whatever it is: yes.”

“Great!” Buster immediately spat in his hand and leaned forwards across the table. 5 minutes till sunrise…

—–

Duncan A. awoke in a captive position, but then stood up. No chains this time. Relief! He wipes his forehead of perspiration and looks around. Pipes. This must be Pipersville Buster talked about. He moves to the table on the far side of the room.

African-American nudie pic, he ruminates. Jim A.’s heartthrob, he understands, the thing that held *him* captive. What happened to her? he wonders, then turns. One way to find out. He ascends the stairs out of there and tries the door: unlocked. Still not a captive.

He opens the door. Music.

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December 3, 2018 · 8:21 am

Race

“Stop *staring* at the man, Baker Bloch thought about Horace Wise. It’s like he’s never seen a black person before.

“So,” Duncan began, obviously conscious of the riveting gaze, “looks like we’ll have to start without our Mountain Lake representative Ms. Well.”

“A *wo*-man,” spoke Horace Wise incredulously from his side. “I think not. We already have [delete rest of sentence].”

Baker Bloch breathed deeply. Looking at him, Duncan decided to jump in first. “First of all, we’re African-*Americans*. Just like you Horace.”

Horace Wise finally broke his stare, sighed, and waved his arms around in despair. “The Virtual Chel-sea Hotel, the finest building, most likely, in this whole, wide conti-nent. Represented by *you*.”

Alright, that’s it Horace,” states Baker Bloch angrily. “I’m evoking class *5* status by rights of being the *author* of this novel — a *Collagesity* novel, after all — and saying that your Philo is disqualified, disqualified, *disqualified* from the race for the treasure. Now — *get out*. It will be between me, *Duncan* here — a man like yourself, thankfully, or I don’t know *what* you’d call him — and then Lou, our representative apparently from the Mountain Lake region of the Omega continent.” In his rage, he left out the remaining candidate at the table: Teepot’s Jeffrie Phillips.

But Horace Wise didn’t leave immediately. “You’re taking all this serious-ly. The” — he looks over at Duncan — “*black* man here. Then a woman. *Wo*-man.”

“Yes!!” Baker Bloch’s yell could probably be heard all the way over to Horace’s hometown.

And this is probably what a lot of people were like back then. And could still be. Yes, probably were around in good numbers still. Philo is *history*, but history repeats.

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December 3, 2018 · 7:30 am

Providence too

“I assume you’re here about the treasure hunt,” spoke Collagesity representative Baker Bloch to the stranger sitting beside him, breaking the awkward silence.

“Y-es,” proclaimed Horace Wise in a surprisingly stilted voice (to Baker). “We think we have what it takes in Philo to complete the task — wrap everything up neat and nice-ly.” He looked at Baker directly now. “Take it *home*,” he furthered.

“Philo, huh. The retro-village? Just over there?” Baker Bloch points in a southeast direction from their position atop the Virtual Chelsea Hotel. And, yes, he was already trying to be slightly dismissive of the haughty tone set. In defense mode.

“We are *not* re-tro. It is just that most people around us — on the continent — are from the *fu-ture*.” Horace Wise scanned his neighbor with protruding lower lip. “Like your-*self*, apparently. What fair village or town or city do you represent? Are you a class 4 burg? 3? Dare I say: *2*? We are proudly a 4, since we span two sims now, Myron and also Catal-pa. We actually, in a way, share the Catalpa-Tessock sim with VHC City, another 4.” Horace Wise paused. “I assume VHC City is in the hunt as well, since we’re *here* — at the Chel-sea. I wonder where their represen-tative is, though?”

“I represent Collagesity, by the way,” a now truly irritated Baker Bloch said. “Class 2 burg, I suppose we are. Considerably less than a sim. But we have the forest to boost us up.” Baker waited for Horace Wise to ask questions about the forest but they never came. Instead, he roosted on the class 2 aspect. Instant disqualification in his mind. Just like the case with Rodentia  — all the rest. The many “others.” The wannabes in his mind. Like stars you can’t see with the naked eye in the sky. Don’t matter; nothing to see.

“Hmph,” instead came Horace Wise’s simple, cuttingly dismissive reply. They sat together even more awkwardly after this, waiting for others to show up. Baker Bloch dare not look in his eyes again.

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November 7, 2018 · 8:17 am

zilch

George liked it here on the peninsula Duncan assigned him to keep an eye on. This meant Core-Alena in whatever shape she happened to be in at the time. This included The Between, a slither of land representing a neutral point between Virtual and Reality. This meant, well, anything else in and around the peninsula. Just keep your eyes peeled, requested Duncan.

And something had happened tonight, George then realized, peering around. The Seven Crate was gone from its former position behind the Magenta Girls’ beach house.

First the VEN off the boat moored just offshore several days ago, now the SeVEN crate itself. Better get this information back to Duncan as soon as possible, George considered. Maybe… right now?

—–

“I *told* you not to come here, George.”

“I’m properly disguised — in costume.”

“Nevertheless. You’re still a boy of 13 at heart. This is an adult portal.”

George glanced over at the center of it all again. “Milk. And cookies.” He pointed. “Funny.”

“Stop looking over there. You don’t know *what* will show up. Just stare straight ahead.”

“Okay.”

“Tell you what, let’s just get out of here.”

“But I just arrived,” protested George. “Ohhh.”

“Let’s go back to the apartment.” And so they did.

—–

“Okay, I feel a lot more comfortable now with you being here. So… start at the beginning. When did you find the crate missing? After the boat name changed, I know. But just go through the events of the day leading up to it.”

So George unfurled the events of the day leading up to the discovery. Core-Alena and he had had breakfast together at the beach house. “English muffins, ummm,” George remembered. “Core-Alena is a good cook, especially for a tree.”

“That’s a racist and bigoted response,” reprimanded Duncan. “Trees are no different than people. There’s trees that are good with cooking, good with music, good with science. Just like people.” Duncan stared an apology out of his young ward.

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay. Now continue.”

“Well, we finished breakfast, and then I helped with the dishes and we sat around and chatted. Core-Alena — well, you know how she is. Always complaining.”

“Watch it,” warned Duncan.

“Alright.” George nodded here. “But she started on… talking about how she got killed again.”

Duncan paused with this, turned and appeared to look out the window toward the great Hotel Chelsea (the center of it all *here*) while actually deep in thought. “I see.”

“She mentioned you.”

“Of course she did.”

“And how she’s not happy being where she is now. Mobile. That’s the problem,” the boy guesses.

“Yeah,” admits Duncan, turning back around. “That’s the problem, George.” He shuffles his feet a bit, wrings his hands nervously. “A conundrum even.”

George pauses in turn. “She needs to go back into the ground. Doesn’t she?”

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October 27, 2018 · 7:15 am

swears

“So hard to get comfortable in these f-cking chairs,” Buster complained, wishing he would have tried one or two more before Duncan showed up. But he didn’t have time.

“Yeah, I saw your green dot over here and decided just to teleport over, to save you the trouble of sending me an invite and all. So: what’s up, Buster? You said this was of utmost importance.”

Buster squirmed a bit more before replying. “Pot-D is what’s up, Duncan Avocado.” He let the high pitched declaration hang in the air.

“Pot-D?” Duncan thought about it a second. He looked around the restaurant; checked his inworld map before leaning in closer. “Drugs?” he said in a lower tone.

“No, no, no Duncan A. Get your mind out of the slum, er, gutter. I’m talking about a secret society we want you to join. To help us with the investigation of The Diagonal. Pot-D stands for Protectors of the Diagonal. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Duncan Avocado pondered on this as well, then answered: “W-what do I have to do? Sign some papers or something? Um, be sworn in?”

The small vampire shook his head. “No, you’re basically already in. It’s all verbal in this club. Angus Nuffin suggested it, and he’s sort of the boss, the ringleader I suppose.” Buster’s pace was brisk; he wanted to get Duncan initiated and then get the hell out of here. The Chelsea so close, so close. Blue Angel. “What do the initials R.B. mean to you?”

Duncan went into thinking mode again. “Nothing,” he then answered after a spell. “I don’t know anything it’s attached to… for me… personally. Could be wrong.”

“Good. Then you’re on the right timeline — you’d know if you knew. You’re as good as a member right now.” He reached into his xxxs sized jacket and pulled out a necklace, silver in color with a red pendant. “This is yours. You have to put it on now before I leave. The necklace must touch part of your skin. That way we can always be in communication with you. Are you cool with this still?”

Duncan Avocado had been studying The Diagonal in his own way for many months now, and George with him (Duncan and George go *way* back together). He’d been waiting for a new role to show up at his doorstep. And now it had. He didn’t want to miss another opportunity.

“Sure. Why not.” He grasped the necklace from Buster’s extended hand, put it on.

“Argg, daybreak. F-cking, cursed sun. Must split, Duncan. We’ll be in touch. Get it? Touch.” He didn’t wait for Duncan to respond, but just winked out with this, right when the sun’s hateful rays were washing red over his seat.

Duncan stuck around a while and finished his croissant and cup of creamy coffee. Pretty good. Maybe George and he can eat breakfast here tomorrow. Talk about what has transpired.

But what *did* just transpire? he then considered.

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October 27, 2018 · 6:55 am

arrival

Interesting, thought Buster Damm, teleporting into the center of the Tussock sim under the cover of darkness. Right in the middle of the railroad.

He will call Duncan A. once he finds a good spot to sit at the restaurant. One he feels comfortable with.

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September 19, 2018 · 6:26 am

snoopy

In the Sister sim of VHC City, Sid stands on The Diagonal at 148/148 and notices a diagonally placed stack of books.

149/149: He stares at a blocked grey wall full of white lettered names. “Songwriters and Musicians” they are collectively labelled.

Back to the book stack, which you can sit upon. Quite a few poses. Being a dad himself (and a swell one in our estimation!), he likes how the stack is made by DaD Designs. Sid picks up a book from the pile, opens it at random, and begins reading:

For over a year he had been beating his way along the south shore of Lake Superior as a clam digger and a salmon fisher or in any other capacity that brought him food and bed. His brown, hardening body lived naturally through the half fierce, half lazy work of the bracing days.

Fisher again, he thinks. Fisherman. Change of name. Just around the corner in the next room is an Apple Fall Sunbleached Sete — directly on The Diagonal this time. Can he take the book in there to read further?

Yes, but at 142/142 he quickly, almost instantly, falls asleep and has a dream about craftily editing fig leaves.

—–

He wakes up, gets up, stares down at the couch. Midday already. Quite a nap, he thinks, and ponders on the dream he then remembers. 2 statues trying to make their way through a trapping waterfall into a brave new world. Bickering about which sex is stronger, and who will take on which role. Adam and Eve, he realizes. The couch did this. Fall from Perfection.

But he better teleport back to the trailer and feed the dogs (Newte and Jaspo); they won’t eat for anyone else in the family, not Ragdoll, not Indigo, and certainly not the rather seedy dimension skipper they took on as a boarder since Collagesity novel 9 ended who presently goes by the name of Golden Jim. Sid had unspoken plans for him, though.


151/151: Lake Harriet Japanese Blood Grass (“Red Baron”).

http://www.startribune.com/why-does-google-earth-show-a-plane-at-the-bottom-of-lake-harriet/369835171/


Red Baron (in the cross hairs)?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0010, 0513, Heterocera, Minnesota, VHC City, Wallytown/Fishers Island

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September 18, 2018 · 5:18 am

Scrutinizer Central

“Tronesisia, in her sly way, has led us back to VHC City’s Realm of Orange, also known as Sphere of Influence. George is pictured here peering intently at it in Collagesity novel 4 — scrutinizing…

… and then also here in the current novel (playing Young Herbert Dune in EM’s ‘Urbane Blue’ production). He peers at the orange in each case. Circular perfection.”

“No, you don’t get it, Pitch. I should know. He *doesn’t* peer at the orange, but just outside. Around the outside but not within. That’s what Tronesisia is warning us about.”

“We’ll have to bring her back, Bill. To Collagesity, I mean.”

“Baker Blinker’s old house…”

“Of course. Just like before.”

“But there’s Bendy to consider.”

“Bendy and Tronesisia — or Tronesisia and Bendy — go the way of Fisher and Lisa.”

“Or Lisa and Fisher.”


“I knew they’d let me come back.”

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June 19, 2018 · 7:36 am

trailfollower

Angus Muffin often took the form of kindly human father figure Sid Viscous when studying The Diagonal away from Rubi. Here he sits in what novel 4 (“Collagesity 2017 Middle”) deems the PCH Forest, former or perhaps even future (!) abode of recently resurrected Clare Nova, remembering that Clare is the literal flip side, as it were, of our Fisher. But what does this really mean? Sid ponders while sitting on a bit of projecting natural Linden grass in the woods at 35/35/100 Hooktip and staring toward Clare’s “Good Neighbor Commandments” obelisk also sitting smack dab on The Diagonal.

The PCH Forest hasn’t changed significantly since novel 4, as far as Angus/Sid can tell (I’ve given him permission to access this blog for his studies, warning him to quickly avert his eyes when encountering infinity points within). He thinks this *non*change is unusual in itself, given the several makeovers the forest went through during my more intense focus on it toward the end of that novel.

He stands up and walks toward the obelisk, situated on the southern edge of the forest. As always, he tries to follow The Diagonal in as straight a line as possible by keeping the first two coordinate points of his position the same at any time. Not as easy as it might sound!

So here, directly in front of the obelisk, for example: 4/4/99 Hooktip.

Tonight Sid finds what could be an important clue about The Diagonal in this area. He’s uncovered that an avatar named Shelley has a small, two story apartment directly on it who is a fan of Firesign Theatre, just like his user, and is part of a Second Lyfe group called Firesigntheatergoers. Never mind that the actual spelling of the famed comedy group is “Theatre” and not “Theater”. There’s still some pretty interesting synchronicity going on here. Check out the group in Shelley’s list that comes after it: *Fishers Island* Yacht Club. And out of the 5 other members of Firesigntheatergoers, 2 are Baker Bloch himself plus his alt Bracket Jupiter. “How Can You Be in Two Places at Once When You’re Not Anywhere at All” indeed!

But for now, Angus/Sid has to get back to Collagesity to work his shift as a recently hired cook at Perch. He needs to devise a plan to get rid of that job. Asap! He has to have more time with The Diagonal. Fishers Island Yacht Club is an obvious next possible destination. And a friend request has been sent to Shelley.


Mr. Mistikitty.

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