Category Archives: Jeogeot

March 27, 2026 · 10:14 pm

00500102 (everything)

It was a question that was inevitable. Did the castle have *consciousness*. Behind those eyes, that mouth with its sticky outy tongue: only vacancy, nobody home? Or was there something actually there? It’s a line of inquiry Frank and Daisy started to explore after a heated night of make-up passion, just looking around what Daisy considered to be a pretty makeshift bedroom but what Frank thought of as a pretty permanent version of the same. She didn’t know what she wanted in terms of a master bedroom. Frank *wasn’t* her master, she had that much at least. AI wasn’t her master either. “Besides, it’s going to crash,” she opined to him maybe that same night. “Crash and burn. And the government will step in as they always do and save their stupid worthless asses.” He kept his mouth shut. Unlike for his castle now down on the ground and not up in the skies like before, he’d learn to control the tongue waggling. Best to keep it inside and even bite down hard at times. On this particular subject anyway. And more would develop as the days turned into years turned into centuries.

“Don’t you think it’s creepy,” she said another time as they lay on the bed fully clothed, unable get inspired this particular night perhaps, “that he’s always looking in on us? When we’re *here*?” How do you know he’s a he? is the first thing that sprung to his mind, though. Not any thoughts about the castle actually being an AI. He remained blinded in that direction. He didn’t even know the castle did the same out of a strong sense of privacy itself. Himself? Her? Maybe it didn’t even matter. Anyway, they had nothing to worry about in this direction. TBD TBC

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March 21, 2026 · 2:37 pm

00490616 (appearance)

Inspector Petty, chef no more, continues to stare at the Anton pin stuck in the lower left center of the Anson sim while June Bug Johnston behind him reads her diary atop the spread out US and UK Dennis’. “Eureka!” he cried just as Father Fecked outside points to him. “Time machine!”

END OF “SUNKLANDS 2025-2026 WINTER”!

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March 19, 2026 · 10:24 pm

00490615 (from the South)

Turns out Frank’s visit to Rodentia was a red herring with Blue Moon and him arriving at an empty parcel after walking from the King’s Head instead of the expected, run down house with a death bed and observing chairs. So that the *actual* Mouse, reduced to a cane, could make his point. Frank missed him coming around the corner toward Petty’s detective agency by about 30 seconds (let’s set it) while standing outside Daisy’s Hole in the Wall bar. Close, The Powers that Be think. A little too close.

“Here!” he says gruffly, as is his style, cane indicating the final destination with the right hand while perpetually refreshed Jim Beamed bottle still firmly grasped by the left.

“You sure?” said traveling companion Plastiman behind him outside the queer, small building that seems so out of place in the otherwise concrete environment. They didn’t grasp that it was a developing mini-mall with several other businesses besides this one. They hadn’t rounded the corner yet, come across Frank’s phone spot and then Daisy’s bar just beyond. Nor Ray’s Pizza across from the bar. And I should mention, they lost Pigg and Bully somewhere on their journey across several Bellisaria continents/sub-continents and down the spine of Jeogeot to here. But I don’t believe they’ve even noticed, the two were so irrelevant to our overall story in this here photo-novel 49. Swiftly coming to an end (!). So let’s get to it…

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March 19, 2026 · 10:24 pm

00490614

The layout of my Nawt Vaya Free State land on the continent of Jeogeot in the virtual world of Our Second Lyfe has changed. Frank’s Giant Castle in the Skies has now been moved down and grounded (in reality?). Cement Village, last seen in Aisle of Palms over a year back, has become the new business center, housing Daisy Flathead’s Hole in the Wall and more. Let’s go inside and see how she feels about it.

“How do you feel about the move to the old Aisle of Palms’ Cement Village?” I ask through Biker Frank.

“I don’t know,” she might answer. “How do *you* feel about the move of your Giant Castle in the Skies down to the ground. Reality?”

“Maybe,” he admits. “But, bigger picture, welll…”

“I’m not with Biker if that’s what you’re asking. Me and you: we’re still a team. Moving forward.”

Frank is overjoyed, overlapping his hand with hers on the counter just like in the beginning. *Now* the movement of the castle is a success.

“I feel safe here… safer,” she exposes her emotions on the new location. “Since I’m not right on the Nawt Vaya shoreline and (so) further away from the alcoholic sea monster. *Non*-alcoholic sea monster I guess I have to add now, since he gobbled up my first successful batch of personal (non-)brew along with the old bar!”

Both laugh. Frank had to ask this next: “Where *is* Biker, then?”

“Where was he ever? All I know is that he came from the south.”

“South, right.”

“Somewhere near the southern end of Nawt Vaya but not right on it. I went to his house, er, *once*?”

As if prompted, Frank takes another swig of the house beer while simultaneously withdrawing his hand from hers. Michelob Zero still, but not for long. New batch of personal brew in the works! He’s readying himself for another question, a one worder this time. Daisy knew she kind of screwed up with that revelation. “House?” he clips out. Swig again, hands further apart.

A call just then coming in on Frank’s phone. Ring tone: “Blue Moon of Kentucky”. “I have to take this,” he says, and goes outside for privacy. Mouse returned? he psychically senses. No, that can’t be it, he rejects the actually correct insight. He’s died twice already. Two’s the limit, right? Surely it is. Can’t be…

But that’s exactly what *she* told him that day in April’s May coming up behind him swiftly like a lion from March. Mouse has come back, kind of once more. And already on his last leg and death bed in one.

“W-where?” Another one word question, a one word answer back.

“Meet me there,” she said after giving the location. “By the big head in the middle. I’ll take you to him.”

Daisy wanted so badly to ask who he was on the phone with when he returned to his seat at the bar but dare not because of the look on his face. Sour! Tension in their relationship hasn’t quite been resolved yet. Doubts on both sides still. Let’s deflect the blame to AI again. Just to be safe, or safer.

“I have to go,” he said, laying one of Philip’s remnant teners won at cards on the counter as a tip. TBC

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0614, Cement Village, collages 2d, Dokken Hollow+, Frank's Moving Castle, Hole in the Wall, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS, Silverton, South Lake

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March 19, 2026 · 10:23 pm

00490612 (refocusing (2 centers and a middle)

Tom entered the door to the right. This was not the correct door and Tom knew this perfectly well. What Tom didn’t know is that he will be punished for going into the wrong door. Tom found himself at a dark corner. It was a theoretical dead end. There was no escaping this dark corner. Maybe he should have gone through the left door and he would not be in this situation. Tom thought to himself: why is this corner here, why is it so dark? Is it a missing texture or is this corner a representation of something greater? As he pondered this, something peculiar happened.

Panicking, Newt shuts down the attic computer, even pulls out the power chord from the back to make sure it’s off. He never wanted to see that corner again. It didn’t have to end like this. Daisy and Frank could work it out, he thinks while trying to calm himself down, taking another sip of his ever present 4 shot latte beside him. Unless it’s a Michelob Zero. You need to drink more water, Newt. Maybe if you did you wouldn’t be in this situation, ha. TBC

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March 19, 2026 · 8:10 am

00490611

Well I hope Spiff’s happy tutoring whoever he’s tutoring, thinks Arthur “Orient” Morgan, standing in front of an open fridge. Because I’m *roasting* in here.

“Order *up*,” calls Wheeler from the window, ticket in hand. “And *shut* that door, why don’t you. Do you think I’m made of money??”

“I don’t know *what* you’re made of, lady.” He dabbed more sweat off his face.

“Triangles,” she says. “Triangle and hexagons.” She laughs.

“Okay, good enough,” he says nonplussed, looking at the tattoo stamped on her forehead and wondering again if it stood for DEMO, all the letters exposed, or DEMON, with an N secretly hidden behind the flip style hair. He’d yet to have the chance to flip it back and see. Snapshots, all he has is snapshots so far. Missouri. Because, yes, he fancied her. He probably didn’t have a choice, given his name was Arthur with a middle name of Orient. He was starting to believe Wheeler’s cockamamie story about them being married in a previous life or something, parallel life she says instead sometimes. The attraction is real. Married and then buried and then… married again? Could it be? First he had to serve out this stupid sentence, work in this hot ass kitchen for 2 weeks until he made up the difference between North and South (painting). Then and only then he’d find out the truth.

“I don’t care about mainstream trends in Their Second Lyfe,” she said another time about her non-mesh status. “I am who I am, born full blown from the head of Baker Blinker. Notice the bit of pink in the skin tone — that’s her. And then I stole some other things,” she admitted. “It’s all lighting and trickery anyway, everything is. Real Life or Second. This extends to all virtual realities.” I didn’t see much pink in her skin tone, Arthur thinks, but maybe that’ll be part of the hidden that’s exposed too.

I stare into her eyes from beyond the 4th wall, wondering if there’s actually a soul in there besides my own. Baker Blinker, Baker Bloch, Hucka Doobie, Karoz Blogger — all me. But Wilson — Wilsonia. *Could* be different. Not yet, though. Not in the present. Presents *and* absence so far. Just like Xmas. TBC

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March 14, 2026 · 7:41 am

00490606

He broke away from her all knowing all seeing eyes, understanding more. Something was wrong, something was off. Sherwood *can’t* be first, since he is the youngest and hadn’t grown up enough yet to play the drums properly in the band. “Paper” *can’t* be second because Sherwood is too young to begin, and so on. Then it hit him. Things were playing out *backwards* from the red book he holds in his hands. Biff Carter — himself — came first. The manager to begin; he started everything. Then Scissorrun© — the band had several names before that, even. Yes, he’s remembering them now. And then “Paper,” their signature tune and their only “hit” to date, was 3rd. Then and only then came Sherwood, who had finally aged enough to join the group. 4-3-2-1 from the book instead of 1-2-3-4. Reading it that way everything fell into place. “Sherwood is last,” he began to reveal these thoughts back to Jennifer.

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March 8, 2026 · 10:15 am

00490515

“This is where the Pee Pee starts, Biker friend of mine, perhaps a lover too.” Maybe she left the lover part out of that sentence. Hadn’t been decided. But they had travelled to Rodentia for a reason. Daisy was testing out the relationship fer sure.

“Fascinating,” he said but not with enthusiasm.

“Let’s move down this grassy diagonal side road. Keep in mind the beginning point.”

“Oh I will.”

—–

“And so this is where it ends, down at that pipe down there, about 200 yards below the source up next to Route 10. It *should* empty into the Baederwood Forest I just exposed by derendering that wall screen marking the limit of Arang. But it doesn’t. Another mystery, then, perhaps another misery as well.” But maybe she left that last part of that sentence out again. No need to bring misery into the relationship either which also often comes hand in hand with the love part.

“Hmmm… why are you showing all this to me again?”

She turns toward him on the bridge. “Because I want you to know where I come from, Biker. I want you to know *my* source. And my mouth.” She opens her mouth to him and points within. “The words coming out of my mouth. I want you to listen like I had to in the past.”

He looks away from her after she shuts her mouth back up. He opens his just a little, pops in another cigarette, lights it, puffs. Not what I signed up for, he thinks to himself while watching the smoke fill the air in front of him, concealing the stream again. Religious mumbo jumbo in a town devoted to anarchy against the powers that be. He’s not a radical, not even political at all, really. He just… likes Daisy. Why does she have to, erm, *muddy* the waters with this… complexity, pheh. And *what* kind of name is Pee Pee??

“Why?” he says aloud, smoke dissipated, allowing him to view again. “Why Pee Pee? It’s not yellow or anything.”

“No of course not, silly. It’s named for my home. In Nigeria. The one I tried to conceal behind a fancier name. This Second Lyfe offered me a chance to reverse my youthful error, change my perspective on the world. I became a priestess here just like my mother was (up) in Real Life. I’ve told you all this before. The other day, when you were on your 3rd Non of the evening. I *know* you weren’t drunk, ha.” Should’ve remembered, she thinks.

Had she made a mistake in bringing him here? What if Frank Lynn finds out? But she had to know. Now she thinks she does. If only they could resolve that difference of opinion about AI. She’s *firm* about hers. What about him? Is he pliable to change? *She* isn’t. And of course therein lies the problem. Can she realize this in time?

—–

When she returned home, she was shocked to find her bar wasn’t there any more along the shores of Nawt Vaya. Hole in the Wall: simply vanished!! What happened, what happened? she panicked. Then she realized the culprit. The alcoholic sea monster! The Non she’d prepared just before leaving with Biker to visit Rodentia had turned out to be so good that the taste overrode his need for alcohol. Success! she understood about her personal brew. But she’d have to start over from scratch. Maybe rebuild the bar elsewhere now that she had to make a fresh start anyway. It’s all up to Frank, he thinks. She needs to find him, and quick! TBC

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March 4, 2026 · 7:05 am

00490509 (Violet)

She got tired of waiting for her alternate self to grow up — understandably, because it could take *decades*. She decides to do some investigating on her own about the subject. Shamon. From the inn. Place of thorns. Not much of an inn aspect left to the place — no beds as far as she could tell. More a museum for the lower floors, she supposed. And then she found the letter in the middle of an antique book just chosen at random from a first floor bookcase. Hmm, she thought, separating the 2 pieces of paper from each other and laying them side by side. What’s this? She started reading. Plain it was at first to her. Mundane, run of the mill, no special qualities at all. A journal entry by someone named June about a trip across the western part of our US of A. Then she read it again. And again. And again, starting to put the 2 sides together to make 1; actually, let’s make that she simply eliminated the second to make one. Here’s what she had left…

Dear Dairy,

We’re finally in Missouri! Almost home! Bryan was so exhausted with today’s drive that we decided to have a sleepover at a cheap motel off Route 66. Madry Wise it’s called and the owners Martha and Theodore are just adorable! They welcomed us with open arms and invited us for dinner so we can share our Route 66 road trip experience with them. Bryan is just having a little nap and we’ll go once he wakes up.

I can’t believe how lucky I am. It’s been the best summer ever!!! Two weeks ago we started the journey from Santa Monica, CA and went through several states through Barstow, Kingman, Sedona, Winslow, Monument Valley, Durango, Santa Fe, Albuquerque, Roswell, Amarillo, Oklahoma City until now Missouri.

So that’s all of page 1. She checked all the mentioned locations from its last sentence on a map. Santa Monica, Barstow, Kingman, Sedona, Winslow: yes, everything to this point was on Route 66 or, in Sedona’s case, quite close, only about 25 miles away. But June and her boyfriend Bryan start to veer away from that famous highway after Winslow AZ and only clearly pick it up again at Amarillo TX. In other words, June may not have even used 66 through the whole of New Mexico, going from Durango CO down to Santa Fe then Albuquerque then Roswell to its south before heading back up to Texas. *Crossing* 66 in Albuquerque but not necessarily travelling along it. While pondering this, Shelley Johnston Struthers realized, if so, that another motel might have been visited on the journey between Albuquerque and Roswell. Was this what was being implied all along?? Fictional Madry Wise Motel actually standing in for the most haunted hotel in America?

They should have never left some of the swastikas on the building because photos can be flipped and time reversed along with it. 1923: not that far away, then, not far atall.

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March 3, 2026 · 2:22 pm

00490508 (decision for 00490402)

Let’s see. I’ve used blue, light blue and blue-violet for Jeogeot locations so far — Nawt Vaya, Rodentia, and then NWES Cy. out on the western coast. Violet is next for its Korean Channel? How about blue-gray?

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