“I was hit by a bullet, Frank! Not hit by a car.”
Frank moves up behind him, stares at the image frozen on the screen too, in the exact center (again) of one of his many Youtube poop videos he’d been watching since the return. It could be that he can’t send him back down to the land of the living after all, he thinks. Mouse just keeps reappearing here; time loop. Center: something about center.
And the whole man-woman polarity he’s running away from so hard in his mind. He must embrace!
“Spongebub, what did I tell you about playing around with Weegee. *Now* look what’s happened!”
“But Squibward!” pleaded up his yellow, square Bikini Rump neighbor whose pineapple shaped home had just been destroyed by its giant nose. “We were boorrrrrrrrrrrr–
—–
–rded its ship and set sail for the sky.
—–
“What’s it spelling out now, Shelley? I mean… Lexi?”
“I think it wants us to stop.” STOP
I’m not in a position to reveal much yet but I can say I’m contemplating moving back to Nautilus, the continent I primarily called “home” starting in photo-novel 13 and ending in photo-novel 40. I’d give it a 30-70 chance of happening right this moment. I really like my place alongside the shores of Nawt Vaya — and below its waters too a bit! And Jeogeot overall has been a fine continental home for 41-47, a new era in photo-novel development as other virtual realities have come to the fore as well. But Second Lyfe is a mutable environment and you have to move around at times to recapture the magic of the place. And there definitely is magic. Just shifty — comes and goes from here and there in this gracefully aging world. Have to be aware of provided clues for relocation. I’m not completely sold yet — at all. But for the first time in a while I’m thinking about it. I can’t be in the corner this time, though. Too much abandoned land for that.
And I’d be isolated from whatever contacts I have left in the game. Moreso than ever. But that’s just the way of life these days. I’m leaving the old behind to find out what’s in the New.
Speaking of revelations, here’s a related photo, ha. Peppre Ann.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0205, Jeogeot, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Nawt Vaya, New York, NVFS, Wubbel
“Hey look, Frank. It’s me! You know, I was going to be the biggest Youtube pooper of them all. The Pooping Pigeon I was called — or going to be called. Bigger than Mickey. Pansy knows. Ask Pansy!”
“Dawg,” responded Frank Lynn, as was appropriate and desired. “What are you even *doing* here? In my castle, sitting in my chair, looking at my video feed, huh?”
“Well, I have to be here. Remember?”
“And *why*?”
“Well, okay… um.”
“Is it because that car ran you over while you were standing in the middle of the road, dawg?”
“Well…”
“Because if it is, I can fix that. We’ve already been over this. You don’t have to *die*. You don’t have to come *here*. You can still do good… in the world below. I can — fix — this.”
“Yeah, I remember you telling me that,” admitted still chair sitting Dr. Mouse, cane still pointed at his paused big Mouse head looming on the screen before him, part of a 3:33 long YouTube poop video I recently found online, ‘nother one. “But–”
“No buts. I can, let’s see, just place you back at that other 32/225 spot, where you’re just staring at that can of sody pop instead of being in the middle of the road, just waiting for things to end. Pick up the can, let’s say. Communicate with whoever is at the other end of the line. Don’t be… afraid.”
“Pick up the can, eh?” said Mouse, contemplating the proposition again, considering it more deeply this time. He *did* desire contact, mutual friendship. But who was on the other side? One way to find out.
“Okay,” he said. “Send me back.”
“On one condition, though — and we talked about this too. You have to deal with the man-woman polarity. You have to find a—”
But Mouse had already returned back to the place he was at just before he died. At that other Rodentia 32/225 spot, one sim up and left.
He picked up the can in front of him. He knew exactly where to take it next.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0204, Dokken Hollow, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, NVFS
I don’t think there’s any mixing of words here. This place represents anti-establishment and anti-authority to the hilt! Witness this statue of a beheaded king straddling the corners of 4 sims, a centerpoint of focus. We must begin here to understand all else in the pretty huge metropolis which not only includes most of these 4 sims but spreads over a lot of 2 more as well. Much much larger than The Burg featured in section 03 from photo-novel 45; much larger than Nawt Vaya’s Juho, or Sunklands bordering Newtown, or even west coast NWES City probably, which I’ve considered the largest city of the Jeogeot continent until this point. We the Baker Family have our work cut out exploring this place and resolving its internal story. Might take a large part of a whole photo-novel this time instead of just a section. Maybe a whole one? Several? One way to find out — leap in again!
How did they know I was a stranger? thinks Wheeler.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0111, Dokken Hollow, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, Newtown, NWES Island^, The Burg
In the sim of Juho that New York transplant Carolin stands at the center of above, the blight was getting whiter which meant worse. Central persimmon tree that formerly existed on this very spot: gone. Soon all the citrus trees, including the more lemony ones, would also be affected, she knew, and another reason for staying here in the first place might be lost. Nawt Vaya — the water of Jeogeot’s largest and also probably only inland sea has power but not unlimited. Soon things will begin to disperse again, although Our Second Lyfe will retain its primary importance in the blog and attached photo-novels. At least while the *latter* is also still around. Do I see an end? 47 and counting now. Not really.
Carolin turns. Better find Sep over at the stylist to get that butterfly hair in place again.
—–
“Yeah, that’s pretty red, Lexi, I mean, Shelley, AHEM, I mean — *Wheeler*. But we’ll get you set up again.”
——
“*There*.”
Back to my old self, she thinks. Now to try it out on Frank Lynn sitting over there getting his own kind of haircut. She looks over, making sure he makes eye contact with her. There! No sign of recognition. Ex-cel-lent.
Now to change out of these silly child’s clothes too.
She stares at her reflection again. Eat your heart out, Frank!
“Weird how it’s just spinning on its own.”
“Yeah, and we’re not even touching it yet (!). Energy is strong here for sure. Soooo… you ready? Just grab it and it will stop; it will magnetize to you, then. You start, and then I’ll take hold of it too.” Black first, Lexi knew from past experience with this kind of setup. Like a proper game of Iowa cheskers out in some random cornfield.
—–
“Are you there, spirit?”
The planchette rather quickly moves to YES.
“Thank you. Can you tell us your name?”
The planchette pretty quickly spelled out EDWARD and then PIERROT. So far so good. Everything Philip described is turning out correct.
“Are you the same as Edward Hopper?”
NO, came the even quicker response.
“Can you tell me if you go by another name?”
The planchette stayed still about 5 seconds. Then: JOHNSTON.
“Johnston?” Lexi uttered. “Who do we know that goes by Johnston?”
“Lexi!” Frank exclaimed. “Your hair!”
(to be continued)
https://www.sartle.com/artwork/soir-bleu-edward-hopper
“I’ve figured out who Edward is, Lexi. I don’t think we have to worry about Philip now as much as the castle itself and what, as he says, lives behind the walls. Realism strikes back against abstraction!”
“Say what?”
He swivels his laptop with the appropriate article pulled up toward Lexi. “The perriot. That’s Hopper. Found it pretty quickly using a search for Edward + pierrot.”
“Oh. Edward *Hopper,*” she said, recognizing at least the style. “So that’s who’s haunting the castle? A dead artist?”
“Kind of. Still unclear on that. But I’ve decided we need to have a seance. You’re the official channeller of Nawt Vaya Free State, Lexi.”
“Only because of that premonition about the alcoholic sea monster!” she says with a laugh, Hole in the Wall bar raised 100 feet in the air just in the nick of time to be saved from swallowing.
“Nevertheless, I think we should try. Else… Philip will never come back up. He’ll always be with you, Lexi. Forever… and ever. Noooooo escape.”
“Okay okay, I’ll do it,” she relents and then stares at the laptop again, the white face, the painted red lips and the cigarette sadly drooping from them. Another dropper? She imagined it spilling from his mouth, catching the crotch of his sad clown pants on fire. How to put it out how to put it out? He can’t. Not without our help.
“Tonight?” requests Frank. “I know it’s short notice but… I can’t sleep in that place now. He’s staring at me too!”
“Tonight,” acquiesced Lexi, already planning what candles and incense would be required to set the proper mood. And, of course, the Weegee board.
(to be continued)
“Who are you? And what are you doing here??”
——
“He said he was this guy. I’m telling you Frank. These walls are haunted!”
“Simmer down, Philip. Say he *gave* this to you?”
“Yeah; just dropped it into my inventory and then vanished. Said he lived here. He’s lived here for a long time. Behind the fireplace; in the walls. Watching. This is a colored version of him where I saw a white one. But I know they’re the same. And… sorry about saying the word colored,” he apologized while looking over at his black friend, who took the mention in stride. “Like black-and-white and colored TVs I suppose,” Philip needlessly continued the apology. “No harm meant.”
“Watching, huh. Creepy.” Frank didn’t believe Philip’s story but was just going along for the ride.
“Like I said, Pierrot’s the name. Edward Pierrot. Said he died here or something, then mentioned Alabama. But now he’s back, he said. Like the Alabama Phoenix, whatever that means.”
“But… Phoenix is in Arizona. Dawg,” he added to make it more authentically him.
“I don’t know. But I, um, might not be coming up as much, Frank, to be honest with you. He’s *watching*. How can I play pinball in peace and escape all the stress of the world if I know *that*.”
“Truly an issue. Well, tell you what, Philip. I’ll dig into it, maybe hire some kind of exorcist, you know.”
“Really?” exuded Philip, still not catching on that Frank doesn’t believe anything he’s saying. “That would be *great*, bud.” And he punched him on the shoulder to show his gratitude and then excused himself, saying he’s late for dinner with Lexi down at the sea. He still didn’t like Frank to call Nawt Vaya a lake but Frank doesn’t do that much anymore. He’s caught on too. He likes it here! No dead fish smell, etc. Much better than the Alamo where it/they came from. “Remember the Alamo,” Philip likes to say. “And then forget all about it,” he adds the punchline, the joke of it all. Alamo > Nawt Vaya. Fate, they’ve determined. Lexi too in her own special way and special place manner.
After he went home, Frank continued to stare at the painting Philip left behind. Frank can’t return it immediately or Philip will see it show up in his lost and found folder and maybe get wise to his little game. So he just moves the thing up into the ceiling so he won’t have to look at it all the time. He’d have to talk to Lexi about Philip’s new issues first chance he gets. Maybe an extension of the ones we’ve seen him saddled with in photo-novel 47 — just completed in the nick of time for its end of August deadline, yay!
https://bakerbloch.com/virtual/sunklands-2025-middle/
Another Edward Pierrot from a land far removed now (Mythopolis).
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0101, Alabama, Jeogeot, Mythopolis, Nawt Vaya, NVFS, Wazob
“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”!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0616, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, New Island^, NVFS
Sunklands 