Category Archives: Marwood

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Mercury X. Rising’s still down there, heh. Waiting for Wheeler. He’s certainly in love with his car.

Man About Time — MAT — turns. “And what about you my friend. My best friend. Are you ready to really turn over this time?”

—–

MAT phoned up Toothpick. “The wedding will have to be called off. I can’t get Wheeler, I mean, Carrcassonnee to start.” Toothpick begins to sob profusely. MAT reconsiders. “There *is* one other option. We have the beginning of a new town suburb, one that might seal the deal and make 90 into 100. Are you ready to take that chance, make the leap across a small but not insignificant gap?” Toothpick stopped crying, wiped his eyes, blew his nose. “Sure,” he was finally able to speak. “But what?”

“St. Mary’s. Just behind the Bigfoot Bar, or what use to be that bar. Moe’s I think it is called now. In fact, I own it. I own the church. I own the land bridging the church with the bar with the gallery with the apartment. I own it all. Your wedding to Elberta would help seal the deal. In fact, I think I’ll invite a good friend of mine who happens to be a grey seal. Can you find it? Just behind the Bigfoot Bar. Quickly, before he turns into a snow covered Yeti and we’re all in danger. Can you handle it?”

—–

Toothpick rings up Elberta. “We must get to 245,” he spoke without emotion, trying to complete…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0701, Marwood, NWES Island

name

Santa wasn’t happy. I think he was about to run me over in his flying saucer, *ZZzzOOOOOmmm*! I wake up.

—–

“Another dream about the election dearest?” Wendy. Good ol’ Wendy. Always there during consciousness. Until the end.

—–

In the next Marwood bot dream, Norm, another local resident, took over from Santa. “Sit down,” he commanded, indicating a chair in front of the guillotine I was beheaded with just the night before. And a donkey’s alongside it.

Red hat still firmly attached to skull, I sat under the Ace of Diamonds I posed beside last night before the beheading. I knew this because I was looking on as an observer rather than being a direct participant. “There is no Other,” he said to begin our conversation proper. “There is only *Here*.” I’d heard this before. I sat in the chair.

—–

It was Miss Graham, formerly Jennifer M. Friend. She was then there, “DEMO” still tattooing head, which my mind started running again and again around the cap line of her skull, like a looped film. Faster… faster. Blurred… then suddenly stabilization once more. Slowing down. 7610 this time: clarity; focusing in. I stared again at Norm. We had been here before.

The tie was back. I had to get to work. Fast!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0615, Marwood, NWES Island

PICT ON PICT…

“Tiger eyes, moved from the front of the head to the back to meet in the middle again, just like (with) Aunt Fannie. Black Diamond is revealed. It is time to tell the truth.”

“Partial truth,” I respond.

“Good enough.”

—–

“Black Ice is not Black Ice,” I spoke to the city or town council, as yet undecided. *Maybe* tonight (!).

“Well??” Head councilman and well respected resident Walter “Homer” Westinghouse was waiting for an answer.

“It’s Black Diamond.” Gasps from the members at the meeting. They hadn’t heard that name in a looong time.

“Bu-bu-but *Diamond*fyre* is the only Diamond named sim.”

“No,” I corrected Homer. “The actual name of Diamondfyre is *Ice*fyre. Sometime in the past, with a bunch of hoodoos like you lot, it was changed. “The decision –,” I measured out, “was – made,” I paused again, “to change. Switch. One replaces another, like if you had a set of eyes you weren’t pleased with and you switched them out with someone else’s.” I let that sink in. No one responded for what I considered an appropriate amount of time to absorb so I added, “and Ice is the same as Diamond — almost — because you can have the glass version of the former while Diamond always remain pure. Always — remain — pure,” I metered out again.

“What about the *belt*?” Murmurs from the members, agreeing with Walter “Homer” Westinghouse. They must talk about the Great Belt of Black Diamond next. How did it get imported into Marwood? And what did *Icefyre* have to do with all this?

(to be continued)

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Filed under ***collages 2d, **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0614, Apple's Orchard, Black Ice, Bogota, Canada/Picturetown, Marwood, Neptune, NWES Island, Picturetown

Marwood

I am wearing a red cap for some reason. The skeleton opposite me has just flipped over the Ace of Spades from his own deck, the death card. But I have an ace to counter from mine. But my ace is red. I lose (*SLICE*).

MAT (Man About Time) wakes up with a gasp. He knows how the vote about the town vs. city moniker is going to come out. Good news! He can’t help but feel his neck, though, to make sure it’s on nice and tight (phew!).

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0613, Marwood, NWES Island

filling

“Shop’s closed,” Judd offered from the stairs, staring at the back of his sister Eldwina, who was dressing more and more like a little hooker each passing day, he thought. Maybe she would join the City Squad soon.

The coffee shop just down the walk was most assuredly not closed — perhaps the kids were talking about another place (they were). Charlene Brown the pseudo-punk was washing her hands when I came in, looking for stories.

“Be with you in a minute,” she calls as she counts. 16 Mississippi, 17 Mississippi… almost done. 19….. done. She turns.

“Oh it’s you. Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“Yeah. Almost forgot how to get here. And then those kids…”

“Aw, jeez. Don’t get me started (about those kids).”

“Yeah, the one on the stairs…”

“He’s *always* sitting on those stairs.”

“Yeah, he said you were closed up.”

“Nope. As you can see. Maybe he was talking about the old Same Coffee Shop. It’s a basic duplicate of this one. Except: closed. That must be it.” She studies him more. Maybe a little grayer around the temples. Maybe a new wrinkle here and there. But not much change. For all the passing years.

“I’m here again.”

“Oh?” A twinkle in her eye. “She’d just dumped her 5th boyfriend in 5 months. There was the age different but… he was still attractive. She liked the gray. Distinguished, as they say. “In Black Ice?”

“No, but just up the road.”

“Apple’s Orchard?” she guessed again. “Neptune?” She paused. “Marwood, even?”

“Marwood, that’s it,” I decided. “Up at the new temple. I stay in an apartment in the air.”

“I don’t get up there that much — the northern part of the city.”

“Now now,” I reprimanded. “You’re not suppose to say that word any longer.”

“City?” she provided and then smiled. “It’ll change. We just have to get rid of the *other* cities clinging onto the main one. Like…”

“Meat City,” I proffered. “Zen City — well, that’s *already* gone, poof.” I threw up my hands in a poor imitation of a miniature atomic blast but she smiled all the same. Always laughing at my mainly lame jokes. Good ol’ Charlene. I decided to ask about Charlie. I wish I hadn’t.

—–

“It was Halloween night. Just day before yesterday, then. Out in the pumpkin patch. He didn’t listen to his pseudo-girlfriend’s brother about the demon that always showed up there that night. Neither of them made it. Just a blood patch now.” She starts to cry again, tears dripping into her cup and on the tablecloth. I didn’t know what to add. I’d said I was sorry several times now. I desired to leave, frankly — this wasn’t the story I was looking for. Oh look, though, she’s holding my hand now. She’s looking deep into my eyes with that twinkle again. Maybe this will work to my advantage. The last time we saw each other I was obsessed with another. But I’m older now; she’s older, although you’d never know it. It’s like time stood still for her. And maybe it had. Did she make a pact with someone, ho?

And what about that ill placed vending machine over there we got our hot beverages from? That’s new. Just then, Jeffrey Phillips’ cup vanishes into nothingness but Charlene’s remains. She knew how to replenish it automatically and bridge the gaps.

—–

In the closed duplicate coffee shop, Apples 02’s chair turned sideways and she knew lover Appleyon’s plan had worked. Now to get back to Somerset and try it on Apples 01. The bastard.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0612, Apple's Orchard, Black Ice, Marwood, Meat City, Mississippi, Neptune, NWES Island, Somerset

he got glowing reviews in the “Daily Beast”

“We call him Torch but I believe his first name is Glenn. I try to stay a certain distance from the fellow understandably, me being both Snowy and Frosty at once.” He looks over. “Still not talking to me, Old Grey?” He turns back, sighs. “This NWES Island, Old Grey. I don’t think we can ever leave now. Collagesity has been fully assimilated.” He pries his eyes off the hypnotic dancing fireman again, looks at his watch. “Speaking of the City I think I’ll take a walk; getting a little hot in here. Cool off, you know.” He was thinking of a certain seat in town shaded green and blue formerly across the street from a fire station. Just south and east of Diamondfyre, but not far enough to forget how to come home to mother.

—–

“I was born there, in that dresser,” spoke Snowmanster to no one now, not even one who doesn’t listen, doesn’t know. “I became someone that day, way back in photo-novel 3. You were there, Old Grey. Even at the beginning. We talked of, well, we discussed a lot of stuff while walking to Purden and meeting Core-Alena for the first time. You weren’t impressed. I recall you mimicking me through a ‘Star Wars’ character. But now you’re paying the price.” He looks over at Old Grey that isn’t there but he pretends she is anyway, cane still in hand. He notices the ill fitting wig again, the cracked grey skin. Old. Dead, even. Death itself. She was beginning to smell.

Wee person Aloha climbed out of the picture before him and introduced herself by saying goodbye, pheh. Green lantern carrying Fern will have to do.


“Hellooo.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0508, Apple's Orchard, Marwood, NWES Island

North again

“Well? How did you like it?”

Toothpick turned on the bar stool. “Who are you?”

She rubbed her big red horns seductively. “An Aries, why?”

Toothpick adjusted. “*What* are you?”

“They call me Wanda,” she said in a bass voice for a woman. “Big Wanda. Because of the, ahem, horns but maybe not. 1/2 –.” She stopped here, saving some grace. “I’m what you became absorbed in,” she goes again. “Just a moment ago. Just over there.” She points to the nearby black couch. “Like the one in the Bigfoot Bar, except that one’s gone now. There are others.”

Toothpick thinks back to Bigfoot. Yes, he remembers now. This was his sister in another guise. She has horns. They’re still testing couches and realities both. Yes he had been absorbed. It was nice. Too nice. He thought back to the pleasantries. A belt was involved. The Great Belt of Marwood or thereabouts, purchased in oppositely directioned and colored Black Ice down south at its Black Diamond market square, or at least as a demo. Near where they were born, actually, in the Deep South (of the Black Ice sim). The original one broke; all he has now is the one with the attached squares that say demo and follow him wherever he moves with it. Like the Gone Fishing square from before, prior to the horned one taking over. He takes another gander.

“Are you Satan?” He thinks back to well known Aries and settles on the idea of batting champ Peet Rose, red as a. Why Peet Rose? Why not Jonny Bench or some other bench player, like Leeroy “Steamboat” Kelly who filled in for the Browns when Cleveland Jim Brown became a star on Hollywood Boulevard?

—–

In a related scene, Big Wanda’s sometimes, gun toting partner Little Oakley Annie, a Leo, was visiting her own grave but having trouble remembering the name of her own star. She only recalls (with a shudder) the wide, yawning abyss just beyond, the Great Black Swamp devoid of such. Her star was the first out. Polar came to mind but that wasn’t quite it. Pole star?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0413, Apple's Orchard, Black Ice, Marwood, NWES Island, Ohio

gravity

Toddles hated to drug up her grandma to explore The City at night unless absolutely necessary. But she had to go back to Boos without her interfering *negativism* to investigate the first floor collages more and the perhaps clues she saw in them when they both visited the other day. Poor Grammy, the prescient (and precious!) toddler lamented. So fixated on the collages over at the Red Umbrella that she can’t see the advancement of all that interesting energy into the Boos series (exhibited) here above the Temple of TILE now. Toddles ganders at the toy action figure she knows later turned into Casey One Hole, another a-hole of a man, although she’s not suppose to say that word aloud. “Grammy be *damned*,” she dares while staring and glaring. “He *is* an a-hole. And what does he look over at in the other hand? A seed. A license plate that is a seed. A tiny car of a thing held by someone named Olive. Olive something. Kimball something… Oliver.” She was tuning in better, eliminating the rest of the static. “Oliver Wendell Douglas,” she speaks clearly. “And ‘A Dirty Little Wet Seed’.” We know what that is.

She thinks back to the rest of the series just viewed and how it progresses to this *point*, this seed.


Another seed? (comedy)

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Filed under ***collages 2d, **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0408, Boos, Canada/Tungaska, Marwood, Missouri, NWES Island

Temple tales 02

MAT looked down and only saw Mercury X. Rising on the lowest floor, who was a dummy. No organ music from the 2nd directly below him either.

There is no mixture of sacred and profane here at the temple, he thought. No un-well placed people down below to go along with a check written by Dorothy to Wheeler. Baker must be mad, victim of the 2989 curse, or 49 x 61. All will be solved when Toothpick marries his sister here Tuesday’s Thursday Wednesday’s Friday Saturday. We invented a special time for it called Munday, another Happy Day and raising the total from 6 to 7 [or would that be 5 to 6]. Mr. Z. and Mrs. M will be very proud, the best man and the maw.

He turns back to stare at the big eye oh so wanting to be well and sacred again. “But it can’t come about without your cooperation, Carrcassonnee,” he speaks aloud to the great olive being on the 3rd and top floor of the temple, the alien object all is built around. “You are the beginning and ending; you are alive, true, but your eye is not functioning properly still. You are yourself and not yourself at once. This is alchemy, this is a tin or lead voice wishing to raise itself to be gold like the visible body. We must make sound synchronize with silence. Silence is good and golden but…”

He attempts again.

“Iiiiii. Iiiiiiii-iiiii.” Like a car trying to start but can’t.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0401, Marwood, NWES Island

Temple tales 01

Harry stares outside the picture at the Earth and sees it is good. What an oddball.

On the same floor, Baker Bloch bangs out the entire organ version of Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture” before raising his hands from the keyboard and realizing he can’t play. That was vampire alter ego Pitch Darkly’s talent, who hasn’t been seen in a number of photo-novels. I lose count. 18 — that’s it. Or was it 12?

Ahh, *there* he is. It was Pitch all along — should’ve know. Just had to turn the camera the other way. The lack of a reflection in the organ’s strangely placed mirror should have tipped me off. Along with, of course, the deft keyboard fingering.

“Play that other Russian ‘sky’ composer I love so much,” listening wife Mary Tyler requests. She wanted Moore. And Pitch complies by belting forth “The Rite of Spring” to her great pleasure, although early on she was knocked off her perch on the organ by the heavy vibrations. Good vibrations, though, and Mary still grooved to them while laying on the floor.

She took the opportunity to also stare at the static filled tv placed nearby she was edging closer to with each crashing chord — temple must have been tilted a bit in that direction — and fell into a trance, dreaming about a trip to the Beach. Except it was The Beech. Here we come!

Upstairs:

“Iiiiii… Iiiiiii…”

“Almost got it,” Carrcassonnee adjusting MAT (Man About Time) declares hopefully but perhaps also futilely. We’ll see soon enough.

Excuse me. I have to contact someone.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0316, Marwood, NWES Island