“No it has to be one of those other colors,” Denisce decides, which was in her name after all. A decision maker she was, a go getter. And blue wasn’t in her
name aim. George neither.
“Aw, *rats*,” he says, and starts moving toward his clothes.
“Blue,” George begins, floating like a ball in his Southwestern pool as Little George, thinking of Michigan and some other stuff. “And yellow — *that’s* what did my beloved Duncan in, Marty.” George looked over at the red topped Beetle, checking to see if he was actually listening. Because he often wasn’t. He was currently looking at his soaked shoes and wondering how to slip them off and make his feet bare, like young George’s tootsies over there. He was wondering how he could Be Like George.
“Are you hearing me, Marty?”
“Um, sure sure. Blue, right.”
“And…?” George prompts.
“Um… *yellow*, yeah yeah. Real reet.”
George actually shakes his head with this while floating in the water. George thinks that Marty isn’t black. He should stop trying so hard. The Mann, pheh. “So that leaves…?” he prompts again.
“Red and green.” Marty was starting to pick it up. The Annaberg balloon; Blue and Yellow seeing a yellow sunrise with his two blue peepers. Duncan didn’t look the other way this time. This was all about TILE.
“You disappeared into that rock over there, you rocker. Do you even recall *that*?”
He recalled… something about a Cyclone. Blue and yellow. Then red and green. Oz.
Returned to Our Second Lyfe, Marty stares at The Rock from his small sea green isle, wondering what it means. Owned by a Blackbyrds group. The Other Rock is in the southwest part of the square, *this* Rock is too — Nautilus continent that is, and its 32 x 32 grid of 256 x 256 meter sims, the focus of the last 6 photo-novels if you include the current one.
For some reason he doesn’t remember the giant Iris growing in the middle of this isle — its only vegetation — but upon checking later, sees it is on old photos from the area, this so called Owl Island which use to have two blue pools that acted as the upside-down night bird’s peepers. No more — Second Lyfe is soo mutable. But the association still stands in hypertime, which is also what this is all about. Marty stands, the pin beside him, as red as his hair, suddenly glowing brightly. Time to go inside again. He ponders the possible directions: north, northeast, east.
How about Diagonal?
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0507, Collagesity Fordham, Lands End, Lower Austra^, Metropolis, Nautilus, Perch-Mistletoe, Southwestern, Upper Austra^, Wild West
“Where are we on the map, Baker B.? It’s very important we keep up with the map. We’ve come soo far.”
“Let’s see.” Alter.
“We’ve just found out that Elvira, you know, the aunt of Mrs. Ordinary who lives up in Chapel Vile over on the Corsica continent…”
“She lives at or near Terriergate, the art gallery in Terriergate. This would be on the very western tip of the Lower Austra peninsula, maybe putting it in the Wild West category instead. You see (W.), I’m having a hard time still dividing the regions of the Nautilus continent up.”
“Do you think the elimination of Collagesity would help?” I waited for more and it didn’t come.
“What do *you* think?” I ventured in the gap. Nothing still.
“A spirit is summoned by a witch in Spirit Witch,” I declared.
“Start there,” a faint voice comes from the darkness in the distance.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0307, Lands End, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, North, Rim Isles, Rooster's Peninsula, Slaashsides, Southwestern, Squared Root City, Upper Austra^, Wild West
Grassy Noll had shifted one chair down to make room for Nauty, but he said that wasn’t what it sounded like. It was just short for Nautilus (continent) — he wasn’t some kind of sex toy doll, he reinforced. “Or was he?” he then joked, and repositioned the pin near his navel in a most inappropriate way, getting a laugh from Wheeler at least.
“So you can help with our pin cushion problem,” said Baker, staying serious because he had a big problem. The Nautilus map behind Nauty had been itself overrun with red pins, marking locations already featured in the blog and with more to come. He needed organization, he needed categorization. What is the true relationship of Lower and Upper Austra? How is the North, deemed non-Austran, really different? And what of the Wild West, the Mild East, the *Southwest*, where he’d just been with Man About Time? And then: Collagesity. Between Highways 13 and 14 that stood for M and N. Soo much there already.
“Yes,” answered Nauty, and then said he had a Rubber Soul. Baker thought about this for a moment and realized it meant he was beyond Help (!). If it kept progressing in this direction he’d need a Revolver to end it all.
“You mean *I* have a Rubber Soul,” he said to Nauty.
Across from him, Opp or Tropp (True Opp) had also shifted one chair over to make room for another newcomer, this Al guy we’ve already mentioned several posts back, the last one set in Paper-Soap in my new rental there, the one in front of Soap Beach but in the Paper sim, the place where the dead wash up in banded groups, ready to be sudsed and bubbled for rebirthing purposes. Wash away the sins type of deal. More newcomers. Perhaps, secretly, Al with his multiple faces was one of ’em. Also: Nauty. Maybe Jinx Doll as well. Seems too coincidental they’re here.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0612, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, North, Paper, Paper Soap, Rim Isles, Rooster's Peninsula, Slaashsides, Southwestern, Upper Austra^, Wild West, Yd Island^
“Oh yeah, um, hi Baker Bloch (waves vaguely).
“I’m here to, um, check out the Rock, uh, is that it?” Man About Time points toward what is indeed The Rock. Marty was perched on top of it last month, listening to rock (music): himself, singing about listening to what the Mann said. Would he (did he)? Can he sing a Christmas song now up there? A day too late I would think. Then *Perch* emerged from beneath the mossy veil a couple of weeks ago — ever so briefly, because he is gone now. And frost has appeared on the veil…
“I’m going over there now,” he called to Baker in his unfocused way. But Baker couldn’t hear him because he really wasn’t there. Like Perch himself . Due to the eye/face’s disappearance, the door has been open for a return to Collagesity — *finally*. I suppose that’s where he could be pointing to but probably not. The odds are against us.
Nope (I checked). Better get back to Paper-Soap.
“I agree, Blackey. Sure *looks* like a mouth.” Is Perch really reemerging? Baker Bloch contemplates on this sea green isle before The Rock of Southwestern Nautilus. After all this time? Carrcassonnee has just been the one eye for, it seems, as long as he can remember. He can’t even recall…
“Duncan?” approaching boy George said behind him, then also stares up, moreso than Baker even. He could see the eye(s) forming already behind the mossy veil.
I don’t want to *see* this, he thought, and looked away, forgetting the moment even. “Let’s go home.” A boy of 10 back to 13 then 10, over and over, had finally stopped the past/future “burp.” Carrcassonnee had saved him. By sacrificing herself for the greater good. Just like that other 3.16 person.
Baker acquiesces and turns black himself. He takes the boy of 10 back to Heaven, White as. Soup’s up!
So many more stories to tell in this here Paper-Soap, sims still united despite the best efforts of Old Man Allen Martin and his Paper Kings. See what I mean? But we must move back to Nautilus for now to investigate the eye. Monolith painter Greg Ogden’s on his final quarter, we could put it. STOP
START Someone is about to emerge.
He gets close enough to where he can’t miss.
“No mann’s from you, young’n,” replies Duncan Avocado to the boy’s protest. “You’ve got to go back to Aunt Clare for a spell. Just until I can figure out a plot to this here photo-novel.”
“But… you’re such a good cook!” George thinks back to the ice. And snow. The crunching. He could lose a tooth this time. ‘Nother one!
“Remember to pack some extra coats. November now. On the other side of the
chasm schism, there’s Tennessee. Perpetual snow.
“I *hate* snow!” Certainly sounds like a boy of 10 now. Unless he’s 13. We’ll get to a picture in a moment to properly see and deduce.
“Besides,” Duncan attempts to rationalize. “Your Aunt Clare needs you — she gets lonely, out in those granite hills.
“I’ll have to get some shoes,” George continues to complain. “I *hate* shoes.”
“Now, now,” Duncan tries to calm. “Most boys don’t have your luck in the first place to move to warm climates when they choose. Scratchy just happens to be as far south on this continent as you can get. It’s warmer than everywhere else. You’ll return soon enough. Think of Clare — think of *others*.”
“I *hate* thinking of others.” Duncan gives up. There’ll be tomorrow for more coaxing; maybe the boy will age by then.
(to be continued)
Why was he brought back? To contemplate, I suppose.
Tillie will be here soon. But first: the boy. George, revolving around 10 to 13 to 10 and back and back endlessly. Obviously a reference (he thinks) to the relationship of the I and the E of TILE, 5 and 8 tiles respectively. 5 turns into 8 turns into 5 and on and on. Similar — the same, really. Raising up of 3 then lowering back down again. And 10 is twice 5.
It obviously has something to do with the Last Christmas where I couldn’t relay my information about TILE, and its unique qualities, to Clare. I believe Clare is in the background, ready to emerge. But where? And how?
The board, eh? a b c d e. 5. e becomes E. m n o p q r s t. 8. Ultimately back to 5 through 7, T, and 6, L. 5 is I. 5 is Eye. 5 is…
“… me.” Little George.
“Take me home, Duncan. I’m hungry.”
Baker Bloch comes back to study it, knowing he was summoned.
“What do you think it is, W.?”
“You know what it is,” she replied, still beyond the frame. Probably Wheeler don’t you think? Maybe not.
“Oracle,” he answered. Both were thinking, of course, of Carrcassonnee. She’s returned (!).
“You put the eye in there,” she stated, ready to move beyond the veil, “and you’ll *see*.”
I wonder additionally if this is Borneo. Borneo to Delphos, actually. “Whadaya think, Blackey?” he says to his bird on his shoulder, the same size from this angle as the blackbird in the background more in the center of the beach, highlighting its name. Staring up as well, Blackey thinks hard. He knows it has something to do with TILE.
(to be continued)