Category Archives: Juho

00450703 (the monster within)

Greg was also into painting trees that came from seeds, including that persimmon in the dead center of Juho we mentioned before. Here: a willow pretty nearby it at the end of the short lane known as Makers Way, Greg’s artistic and otherwise home in the still-being-developed burg. He feels he can speak to this particular tree even, hear its words, understand the language of the long, willowy limbs often swaying and sometimes rustling in the winds. “Greg Ogden,” they seemed to whisper call to him more than once. “More green, more green!” And sometimes he would change with this and sometimes he didn’t. Depends on if he’s heavy into the oils or remains more on the surface with quicker drying acrylics and watercolors. Here he dabbles in acrylic; we appear to be safe for now. 🙂

Soon he tires of outdoor stuff and returns to his newly revamped studio now chocked full of pictures of the female anatomy instead of male, the studio apartment where he lives and bathes and such just above, a one to one match in space and clutter one floor up. He always leaves the front door slightly ajar just in case he forgets his keys. Could return in one of those artistic dazes, he figures, especially if he shifts over to oil. He remembers his uncle locking himself out of his music shop for weeks because of a similar jazz trance induced by something as simple as a passing car radio. Sensitive shopkeepers responsible for the opening and closing of doors must be cognizant of their own weaknesses and adjust accordingly.

How about STAB for a name? he thinks while walking through the shop’s red facade. Short and sweet and evoking lots of the same color. Also short as in the lane he lives on. Eye-catching. And as a bonus he won’t have to repaint. STAB it is. Goes along with the blood theme of his new help wanted ad too; he’ll simply build upon it to create the perfect logo, he thinks in the moment. Good luck Peter Melanchton! Thanks for your service, but I don’t need you any longer, I don’t even need your sister any longer.

I have Redd.

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00450702

Don’t get me wrong. Lexi and he were still pals. Here we see them staring out from her many windowed house after breakfast one morning toward the long if not especially wide expanse of Nawt Vaya, Jeogeot’s largest inland sea and probably the only inland body of water of that virtual continent to qualify as such. And there’s some heated debate in certain Juho social circles even over that, which we’ll get to later. Or not. Not Vaya? Variant name for sure, sea or no. Along with Alamo, which is of particular relevance to Philip’s case. Here’s the actual, Real Life source:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nawt_Vaya,_Arizona

Nawt Vaya is a populated place situated on the Tohono O’odham Nation in Pima County, Arizona, United States.[2] Historically, it has also been known as Agua Lavaria, Agua la Vara, Agua la Varia, Alamo, and Not Vaya, before Nawt Vaya became the official name following a decision by the Board on Geographic Names in 1941. The name means pampas grass well in the O’odham language.

And it’s pretty near the only US population place with a primary or variant name starting with Jeo like the continent, reinforcing the relationship.

Anyway, Philip is still testing out the 3 candidates Wheeler provided for a potential girlfriend as reward for delivering Gus to her, even though he’s leaning heavily toward Nada New Year, seen in the above photo also leaning heavily on him. Lexi sitting on the floor beside them was just glad they were past the constant kissing phase of their relationship. Andie and Sally waited patiently at the table behind them like the 3d dummies they are — just in case. Philip was instead in questioning mode. He never asked Nada — or the others — as if she/they had only one purpose in his life and that alone. It was always Lexi. Another reason he probably kept hanging around, she rationalized. But she really didn’t mind. The girls were pretty and also pretty interesting to speak to. At least Nada. Being a native of the land, she helped fill in Lexi’s gaps of local knowledge. What a sweetheart! If Philip wasn’t around… but she can’t think of that now. Wheeler (and Shelley!) would be so upset!

“Who owns that lighthouse over there, Lexi?” he started, which she knew would lead to more.

“Oh, I don’t know. Just met them once. Darkstar I believe is the name.”

“Cool. Who owns that house with the palm tree just in front of us, then?”

“I don’t know, Philip. They’re just some neighbors. I’ve only seen them from a distance ho-ing in their garden,” which made Lexi wonder again if prostitution was actually legal in this region of Our Second Lyfe.

“Nice. When is Wheeler’s Starbuccaneers gonna open over there to our right, Lexi? Do you know? Huh?” He turns his head toward her. “HUH?”

“*Philip*…” But then she stifled the urge to tell him to be quiet for a while. Because that might mean the kissing resumes. And she’d rather hear his questions than all those smooching sounds. “Starbuccaneers, eh?” she considers. “I’ve heard…” Nada flashes a peace sign in her direction; thanks Nada! “… in about 2 days.” Nada then makes a widening motion with two hands this time behind his head. “Oh, did I say days? I meant weeks.” Thumbs up sign from Nada.

“Nifty. And, let’s see, those people on that grassy field yonder. Who are they? What are they doing?”

Lexi could actually field this field question on her own, which took her back to shortstop days with the local Horners Corners High Jills, no error between her legs at the time. “That’s Greg. As in Greg Ogden. And that’s his models he’s painting for his new and improved Juho studio.” She knew all this from Wheeler. It was kind of the talk of town in certain social circles (or not). Former model Peter Melanchton had graduated Summa cum laude from Nawt Vaya State and moved away. He needed new blood to fill his shoes. That image was actually in the ad he made, which he hoped would seem artistically trendy to a model wannabe.

And, as the ad stated, he was aiming for girls this time — an upgrade. Just like Philip, he had several candidates lined up. Although he was heavily leaning toward the non-red of the group who had just walked into the picture below, as he hoped she would be doing soon on him. Parallel lives.

However, the woman turned out to only be Peter Melanchton’s sister, there to retrieve a leather jacket he left behind. Redd it is.

(to be continued)

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00450701 (a new high and low of it all 03)

“My friend Bart got tired of standing so I took over,” Billy Clockwork explained about his presence at the lemonade stand instead of the boy Newt encountered before here. “Seat’s broke, you see,” he said, indicating the fold out chair beside him. “Go ahead. Try it out if you don’t believe me.” So he did.

Next thing he knew he was in a room of unknown location, fire burning brightly in the hearth beside him. “Hi,” it said in a flamey voice, fittingly enough, low but rich with energy. “I guess you’re wondering what just happened.”

—–

Meanwhile, below, further below than you might think, Wheeler sits beside the other fire of the castle, the one just delivered by Philip The Other who was promptly rewarded with a nice, tall glass of lemonade freshly squeezed from a Juho citrus tree, along with his choice of a new girlfriend, 3 willing candidates in attendance.

I believe he might have his eye more on Nada New Year across from him than the other 2, which is a good choice considering she’s actually another avatar and not just a 3d dummy unable to respond to his many emotional needs. Yes, he has needs, and current roommate Lexi is not the one to meet the most important of them, which, of course, Wheeler understands. Being that she’s also (Lexi’s current love interest) Shelley.

(to be continued)

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00450610

Being a poor student at the local public university majoring in psychology, Peter Melanchton often came down here to the roadside ramen shop to get a free hot meal. But he had another reason to sit on this rock and eat his noodles: Shelley Johnston (Johnson?) Struthers, seen here running into that tunnel again. He often daydreamed that she was his girlfriend, and that they would run together through the whole of the Nawt Vaya inland sea, rain or shine.

Today Lexi joined him, and then, after Shelley passed into the tunnel, gave him a good lecture about stalking young girls even though she was actually doing the same here. Hypocrite, then: just wanting to eliminate the competition. Edward was enough. No need for another pretty faced *boy* to enter the picture.

Sufficiently spooked, Peter doubled down on his studies and eventually graduated Summa cum laude from Nawt Vaya State, which means peak of his class. Doing some modelling on the side sufficed to cover the cost of food and amenities after that, no need for free. Too tempting down on that rock overlooking the tunnel entrance. Didn’t want to get a reputation, maybe even attracting the attention of the local police force. All elements of Lexi’s lecture.

—–

Later, Lexi met Philip at the local Slurpies and started bragging about the deed. Philip checked in his red book and saw this had indeed happened but 2 weeks ago. Lexi must have skipped a chapter or two, he figured. He tells her she’s late and that she needs to recalibrate her internal clock. Just then the school bells rang (dong… dong!), signaling graduation of the 2024 class where Peter just gave his Summa cum laude speech. What is happening to time??

(to be continued)

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00450608

“Lester, can you hear me, Lester? I’m seeing 6’s and 9’s, just like back in grade school. Where am I, Lester?”

“Oh God, Lester! I’m falling!! Falling into a pit, AHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!” Splatt.

“Oh. That wasn’t so bad.” And Philip wakes up fully on his cushioning bed and remembers that he and Lexi have an important meeting with Princess Pinky Gumm at 10:15 over in Juho. Better not be late.

(to be continued)

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00450603

Persimmon. A seed that grew into a tree. A tree whittled down to make a club. Woods (Tiger).

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wood_(golf)

Woods are so called because, traditionally, they had a club head that was made from hardwood, generally persimmon,[1] but modern clubs have heads made from metal, for example titanium, or composite materials, such as carbon fiber

Persimmon can also be whittled down to >sim< (Juho). Or in this case, visa versa.

In another, completely different game, a Woodman working for Tyger (Claws (gang)) with an actual last name of Forrest.

https://cyberpunk.fandom.com/wiki/Oswald_Forrest

Just some random, scattered association, but maybe soon to be more.

https://golfweek.usatoday.com/story/sports/golf/2014/08/20/tiger-woods-golf-equipment-nike-golf-irons/76971654007/

Woods: I’m part of the older generation that grew up playing with balata balls, and part of the last generation that played persimmon.

(to be continued?)

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00450602

Just as she was watching someone, someone was watching her.

But she didn’t care. Currently she was spying on what she called The One from the branch of a park tree with Philip, certainly a detour from the town tour she promised. “*Edward*,” she spat out with some vile. “He’s suppose to be forbidden here. She’s *married*, hmph.”

“Lexi, I hate to bring it up but you promised me and Gus that meeting with Frank.”

“Oh Frank can go -f-ck himself,” she rudely declared.

“Oh. Okay.” Philip looked at Gus on his shoulder who, wide-eyed as always through the burning, just peered back wordlessly. Hard to tell if the little fire demon was shocked at the language or not.

“Soooo… who is this again?”

But Lexi suddenly became even more preoccupied. “They better not, no they better not, no no no no NO.” Shelley and Edward looked up from their attempted kiss and scanned the environment, trying to locate the source of the call. But they were deep enough in the foliage not to be spotted. The moment, however, seemed to be ruined. Good, thought Lexi, realizing the same. They’re wrapping things up, it seems, and Edward will go his own way and Shelley her’s.

“So, who’s this couple, then?” Philip tries again, watching them get up off the bench and start moving away from each other. “Edward, you said?”

“And *Shelley*. Yeah, run your cute little ass all the way home, you bitch of a girl. You temptress.”

Philip started to come around to the idea that Lexi and he would maybe be staying together but they wouldn’t be sleeping together. Not in that way. Because this obsession revealed a shells on the other side of the beach scenario. Shells as in Shelley.

“Time to go,” she then said, starting to make her way off the branch and into the park below. Philip followed suit, being careful not to spill Gus in the process. But she wasn’t quite done with Shelley today in April’s May.

“There she goes, Philip. Back into the Tunnel of Love.”

What does *that* mean, Philip thought, but didn’t ask this time. They’d been delayed long enough.

(to be continued)

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00450601

He came back to Nawt Vaya and the Jeogeot continent of Our Second Lyfe a changed man. No more monkeying around again. He read in the red book up to the present. Retrieved the fire demon formerly named Calcifer but now called Gus from the netherworld known as The Netherlands, check. Walked out of Vijlen and toward the Vaalserberg mountain that is the highest of that realm and just winked out. Manifested here. Sitting in front of Gus, now trying to communicate with the little flamey guy. Happened once before. He puts down the book. “Didn’t it, pal?”

“Frank,” it squeaked in reply, which it’d said previously. And like before, Philip waited for more which never came. “Frank, eh?” he finally said. The fire demon seemed to nod a little to this with his burny head that was also his body but that’s all. No more words for a while.

“I know who he’s talking about,” spoke propped up Lexi from behind the counter, tired from a full day’s work and needing a break. Coffee’s run out anyway, so’s the food. Only cigarettes and other burny things left. Nada New Year also at the counter had to settle for spicy gum, which she was about to pop when I took the above photo. Later she added more spice to the picture.

“Well,” said Philip Strevor. “Speak your truths, woman… girl. Tell me who this Frank is, where he is. Is he fictional or fact? Does he dwell in a house or apartment like the rest of us or is his abode that of the mind and that alone?”

“Oh he’s real,” perked up Lexi. “Came here with him, this Juho.”

“Juho?” So Philip had a name for the place now. And perhaps a name for at least one of the residents. He wanted more.

“What’s *your* name?” So Lexi told him. “And that’s Nada over there chewing away at the only nutrition I could provide at this late hour,” she added. “I’m glad you yourself are enjoying your cigarette.”

“*Gus* is enjoying the cigarette,” said Philip. “Helps keep him lit. Isn’t that right Gus?” No answer. “But pray tell, putting the caboose back on the track, where do I find this Frank if he’s real? Does he also exist in this Juho you’ve illuminated the name for? Perhaps he even lives with you.”

“I’ll take you there,” said Lexi to this, shaking off the living together part. “Quitting time in, let’s see (she checks her watch not on her arm, actually relying on an internal clock), 15 minutes. Nada, you’ll have to take what’s left of your gum and clear out too.” Nada nods in understanding. But not before doing a dance called the Johana.

20 minutes later:

“We’ll pass through Juho proper on the way over to Frank’s. I assume you’re staying a while. Got a place to live yet?”

“Well… I…”

“Then it’s settled. You’ll stay with me. One more question. What are you reading? What’s in the red book that has you so fascinated?”

“Well… *this*.” They reach a playground on the outskirts of town which Philip remembered from section 04.

He couldn’t resist recreating history. “Here, take Gus for a minute if you don’t mind.”

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00450414 (a new high and low of it all)

Welp, there she goes again, thinks Newt, sipping on a recently procured nice cool lemonade drink courtesy of a boy named Bart. Back into the tunnel. Guess I better get back to the home base myself, start working on that skybox and maybe the rezzing of that larger version of Howl’s Moving Castle I have in my inventory. Must not forget the Yellow Guy. Or the Red Man or the Green Dude or the Blue Boy for that matter. “Frank’s Moving Mountain” which is kind of the same as “Howl’s Moving Castle” is a way to keep moving forward on that subject.

—–

On Wheeler’s (Shelley’s) part, when she’d finished with her jog, she went to visit the bar that inspired her own over at Conejo Island, which she hadn’t returned to in a while.

Things seemed different. Curious. She copies all copyable objects and brings them back home again to roost.

—–

“Yes!” she says to the bar underwater.

“Yes!” he exclaims to the castle in the sky.

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00450412

“Susan was a goner, Fink. You essentially killed her with your attack at the beach. But you were only defending Jack, who would have gotten killed himself if you hadn’t intervened. If *Fern* hadn’t intervened. You first saw him — remember? — across Susan’s sprawled out body, his green matching your flesh, his square matching your round.”

“I remember,” said Fink. “I– didn’t mean to kill her.”

“*Told* you to control that freak-ish green arm better,” reprimanded Jack, then felt bad about it. “I mean, I guess you were defending me and all still.”

“I *was*.”

“*Anyway*,” said Princess Pinky Gumm, “I knew her essence could be put to better use than keeping her alive for another day or three at best until she succumbed to those obviously fatal injuries. So I used that energy, that essence to heal myself. Remember? I was possessed by The Lich. *I* wasn’t going to get any better.” Better her than me, Princess Pinky Gumm thought but didn’t say aloud. Was she 100% sure Susan wouldn’t recover? Actually: no. She had been selfish. Susan was a renegade cyborg killer, programming triggered by an electrical shock from a giant Acid River eel. But maybe, just maybe, she would have recovered. But that left the killer part intact still, she tried to rationalize. Yes, better her than me (for death), she reinforced to herself.

“How?” says Fink.

“I’m both a physicist and psychic trained at world esteemed Cal State, Fink. The answer would be too complicated for your meager brain to comprehend. Given you just made an F minus on what I would consider the easiest test on Earth.” Princess… Pink(y)… Gum(m), she reviews the glaringly obvious three-parter, and looks over at his blank, human face. So typical. At least fellow human Susan had killer written all over hers. After the eel. Kill or be killed, she thought once more. Yes, her complicated arrangement of physical-psychical interactions used for the transfer were justified.

(to be continued)

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