Category Archives: Upper Austra^


Despite the prehistoric nature of the place they sometimes had guests. Like today. Robed angels of death stared at her in several sizes and shapes from this perspective. Death was the guest as well, it seemed.

“If I have children, *when* I have children,” she corrected, “I’m going to name them Flaarf and Bozo, after this Second Lyfe sim.” She has a second life here, she realizes. A second chance.

“What about Ingleboort, dearest,” offered Dr. Brown beside her. “I thought if you had twins you were going to name them Ingleboort and Flaarf, giving up on Bozo — like with the Middletown children. ” He didn’t add *alien* children. “It’s not a very complementary first name. Kids will make fun of him. Or her.”

“Yes,” she said, recalling that decision as well, a Muff-Bermingham one and not from the Moon. That darn, lingering Moon, bearded and all. She briefly looks into the sky to see if she can spot it. No luck; too sunny today she reckoned. Full shine on.

The guest finally spoke. He wanted to make a deal to come back. He wanted a religion named for him, this Mr. X as he called himself. Xianity would do swell. He said he’d die to make it happen if it came to that. And it probably would given our history.

“Starve,” he said, choosing a course to do it certainly not involving a meal. “I’ll go out in the dessert and fast myself to death. If it comes to that.” The visions must be purified, he knew. “Desert,” he then amended. “Did I just say dessert? How fitting!” He laughed, probably in a good way. Ally, yes.

As they negotiated, the roaming Allans roared but kept their distance, instinctively knowing here was someone who could eventually defeat their dark overlord and set them free.

(to be continued)

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a lane to walk down

He never could remember which one was an Allosaurus and which one was a Tyranosaurus so he ended up just calling them both Allanosaurus, a catchy name that he couldn’t get rid of, *achoo*. Darn, lingering cold.

He had just finished wiping his nose when Jane stirred in the tent.

“Ohh, my *head*.” It was here she realized she had lost another baby which was the same as a ball. It was all play and pretend except it wasn’t.

“I had to give you a sedative so you’d sleep through it all,” Dr. Brown explained to his ground 00 patient, still waiting for that ball to turn blue so he could determine a sex. Else: this keeps happening. Waking up in the woods. With the dinos, Real Self far far away.

Jane remembers the 8 corners of space, the near (Moon) and the far (Muff-Bermingham). Trouble was, she couldn’t remember which is which, more memory condensing and overlapping. Like with the Allans, as Brown eventually, inevitably shortened the name to.

“I… *died*!”

“Yes, in a way. Your baby died. You died along with it. Except you didn’t. You are here.”

Jane managed to raise herself from the tent floor, look out the door. Dinos. Allans. Everything was here that was needed to understand. South America. Land of the Dead.

“Library,” she said.

“That too,” he admitted. “I suggest we read while we wait. Cut back the talk. No need to waste oxygen. You have them in your eyes as well. Just think of a book to read… and read.”

(to be continued)

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The Line (Upside-Down)

Doc Brown had about given up. He just can’t quite get this whole alien pregnancy in a ball concept down. He’s tried basket, he’s tried soccer now. He wanted a blue one but couldn’t find it in his inventory. Blue would set the correct position, right-side up instead of upside-down. This wasn’t working. He needed to get some sleep. He dozes on the spot. Right next to his creation. The girl from Venus, maybe Mars, with Jupiter and especially Neptune a much longer shot. He wanted her to be from a planet you could see and observe and not hide from. So Jupiter still in play. Even barely noticeable Uranus. Here he is, spacing out about space again, he laments. Can’t… sleep…

But he was.

He wakes up next to his wife of 17 years and stares over at the expanded stomach, the child they made together. Finally, after so many attempts. He’s going to teach him or her how to play basketball or soccer, his or her choice. Then he remembers the plug, the thing you’re not suppose to see but somehow he can. Just like Ruby. This indicates the alien nature after all, his greatest fear.

(to be continued)

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sides (sandwich?)

“My Mama doesn’t like the way I crucify the Lord in vain. Defend yourself, you and your Crazy Blue.”

She lowered her arms. She went to a place earmarked for such a discussion. Still on the BIONaz Gulch-Nightsity line (of sims) — in this case Dottieback. She checked the whole line last night, just hopping around on it randomly, spotting a potential structure and then beaming in. Worked in BIONaz Gulch’s Fantasyland (pictured above), in Othello’s Nightsity. Maybe it can work again. The “city” here has to develop a bit to make it useful, though, she thinks from her position of power, standing above the line instead of being absorbed. Crucified Christ indeed.

Changing back into her standard garb, she stared at the lines on her screen. Nautilus once more. Continental centerpiece. She smiled at the insights.

Yes this will work, she said, suddenly planning a party down at her new beach house, Edward included. She hasn’t given up on him. Omega. Arthur Kill will come to understand the difference between novel and reality. Takes two to know.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0037, 0613, Long Islands, Nautilus, Upper Austra^, Wild West


“It’s kind of weighed heavily toward the west,” W/India (?) spoke of the illuminated pins on the big Nautilus map in de skies, indicating recent activity.

“What’s your suggestion?” But then Axis-Windmill or whoever realized it was staring him in the face. Yd Island. Island of Babylon here on this map generated by another.

But then he realized that maybe the highlighted pins weren’t as random as they seemed. Nightsity is directly above Squared Root City, for instance, and they appear basically next to each other in the text of this here photo-novel (delete discussion of number).


He found himself walking out of a hospital back onto the mean streets, the surgery to remove the points from his ears a total success. Only present girlfriend, future wife Wheeler Wilson had sent him a get well card but that was enough. Reno, it will cost you Reno, they said about the fee. He watched a man die there and it could have been him. He had no choice.

He recalled the dog that was also a spider. 8 shoes on the steps of a porch. A bird indicates. He is driving in a car procured from the Mountain in the Air, red in color and 57 in number, as in years (this time). But it was not him. Not really. The ears, the ears! he understood, sensing the overlap, the fading out and then the fading in. They’ve changed *everything*.

(to be continued)

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“Yes, my love. I mean my *lord*. The Hills have been exposed, one greater, one lesser. Just as you requested. The one opened up…”

(reply (in head))

“Yes, my… lord. At once.”


7:06pm, in a secret rendezvous spot in Nightsity Harbour:

“He wants to invoke Horns of Hatton again, weight challenged brother of mine. Let’s try once more.”

“But… *Maw*.”

“She’s been overruled. The King is in charge now. The Devil, red as. And also, of course–”

“– our father,” completes Jerry. He pops his off, Ben does likewise. They exchange; they restick. Ben is no longer Ben but Jer. Jerry is no longer Jerry but Benny. Now all they have to do is find Lena the one who unites. They’d heard… Silver City, New Mexico, the place of the choppers.


“Keep your eyes peeled, requested driving Jer to riding Benny. Grant County is big enough to hide someone for a while but not that big — not as big as it use to be. We’ll find her.”

“We will.”

“Maybe even try Tyrone next door.”

“Azure? Could she be (hiding) in Azure?”



Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0037, 0516, Nautilus, New Mexico, Upper Austra^


Blue Mountain from the slopes of neighboring Pink Peak, the actual namesake for the town it towers above. Not as much from the western direction we see here but more from the north. And to its north lies not a *barren* landscape bereft of humans but comparatively so. I might be heading there next; who knows where I’ll end up. Lower Pink Peak might be closing up for the spring, what with the early encroachment of poison ivy and, quickly following behind it, other bothersome woodsy aspects like snakes and bugs thanks to a mild winter here in the NC mountains. And despite a fairly cold March much to my disappointment. I spotted some poison ivy coming out on the town’s greenway 2 days ago, about the soonest I remember it sprouting. Use to be, I swear, the *end* of April I’d start seeing it instead of more toward the beginning. But maybe its just a weird spring, and the plants are confused because of all the odd weather, hot then cold, hot then cold. But overall pretty mild still, like I said. I can’t help but think of the advancement of global warming…

That night I found a figurine of one of Batman’s archvillains Poison Ivy staring menacingly in the same direction as similarly green Kick-Ass in a Nightsity comic book store display case. The night before this we observed Edward ordering a kick-ass grasshopper, his regular, from bartender Lexi at the seedy Nightsity establishment he runs for Ben Left Horn, formerly Jer Left Horn in these here photo-novels, 37 in a series so far.

Turning to leaves, there are precisely 3 population places named Leaf in the US, the same amount as found on a poison ivy plant. One of these is in Greene County, Mississippi, and whose only notable person, according to wikipedia, is named Lloyd *Green*, a pretty famous steel guitarist featured on Ken Burns’ “Country Music”. Also according to wikipedia as I found out this morning, villain Poison Ivy uses the power of an interplanetary force known as Green for the purposes of her ecoterrorism.

Why does Edward order a drink named kick-ass from a bar in the same town as a comic book store featuring the wannabe superhero? What is Shelley being tempted into by wearing a “Crazy Blue” outfit, another type of uniform if not a wet suit? Does formerly blue clad Duke Blue Devil Grant Hill still drink Sprite? Does it still quench his thirst? And what of his less famous and less tall Duke basketball running mate Thomas Hill, who won a national championship with him in ’91 and ’92? Hills again — peaks, higher and lower. The only way to figure out more is to go inside again.

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left is right

“You don’t understand these people, Shelley. They are *powerful*. He’s over there with his new girl, *plotting* things. Things that can’t be stopped.”

“*I’m* his new girl,” said unruffled Shelley to this, assuming a cute pose in her seat opposite Edward. Ben Left Horn and Mona sat across from them in the balcony area. Indeed they were plotting, or at least Ben was plotting and Mona was acting as a sounding board for his ideas. She was good that way. Ben thought she might be a keeper, one of the true harem he was collecting down through the years. And Shelley… perhaps the new queen, he thought. Queen of the cats.

“If you put back on that Crazy Blue outfit you’ll be gone to me, to the world at large,” Edward continued. “This place, this Nightsity, will suck you in.”

“What do you care? Surely,” she thought aloud, “surely not for the benefit of *Arthur* after all you’ve done to him.”

“*You’ve* done to him,” he retaliated, then got back to the main subject. “*Don’t* take the gig, Shelley. You don’t know where it will lead you.”

I want… adventure, she thought, thinking of boring, stuck-in-the-mud Arthur. The Arthur who gasped at every sentence of the draft of her 5th novel, not believing what he was reading. What did he expect? she thought. He was gone *most* of the time these days. It will all come to a Shakesperian end, she surmised, but then quickly forgot — backtracked. Running away from the sunset, running toward the moon, no matter how full and blood red it was, indicating warning. Arthur was still her hubbie, her lubbie wubbie. Edward was just a distraction while he was away on the Omega continent. *Corsica* continent, she then reminded herself, confusing lies with truth again. *I’m* the one involved with Omega, she quickly remembered. Lonelyheart Publishers. They said to *juice* it up a bit — that’s what all those lonely housewives want. An *escape*, and a steamy one at that. So she had to write more detail, each novel becoming more graphic and revealing than the one before. That was the development. She tried to pretend it was deeper characters, twistier plots. But at the bottom she was seeing the writing clear. DEMO. DEMON. Satan at the middle, doing what he does best. Black Lake; starless.

“You know he use to go by Jer,” Edward said to fill the void. “He and his brother switched names, just to confuse the lot of us, the readers I suppose.” He looks for the 4th wall with this, to no avail.

“Horns?” said Shelley.

“Those too.”

(to be continued)

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“Oh it’s a God awful outfit, this Crazy Blue.”


“*No* I’m not going to keep wearing it. I just tried it on just for laughs and giggles. If anyone was here looking at me what they’d be doing.”


“Well, that’s very kind I suppose. But it comes off in a moment.”


“Just stop it, *you*.”


“Is she gone yet?” asked the bigger boss about the singer Edward Daigle was suppose to fire today. They were out on the docks to afford more privacy. Plus it was a starless and bible black sky, nothing to distract from fully enjoying a blood red moon.

“Not quite. I’m letting her work out her shift before telling her.”

“But it has to be today,” the bigger boss reinforced. “Someone else is coming in. She doesn’t know it yet but she is.”

Edward had a pause. The bigger boss was flirting with Shelley just yesterday as she still clung to his arm. What’s that girl up to? Could it be?


“Oh you know her. You know her well.”


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