Category Archives: Wild West

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Afterwards:

“Look down there, Shelley. That’s where you’ll live; same as the color of your hair.” He dared to stroke it from behind. “That way, darling, you can come up here to the box and play any time. Anny time.”

“Shelley?” she questioned above.

—–

“Shelley,” she answered below.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0201, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Retirement Islands, Wild West

00360109

The Nautilus map in my skybox is lighting up again. Jem’s Dodgey City in the northeast corner, along with neighboring Blacking where Midge critically observed it across the water from her colorful beach towel. Yd Island and Darla and her Umbrella Club to the southeast, also observed from a distance by prevert Albert. Then Fordham in the lower center, the old Collagesity location which is now surprisingly acting as a hideout of some kind for Franklin aided by greenie friend Apples and the sentient tree known as Unch — you remember Unch don’t you? From the Rubi Forest? Think back. And then in the center center that mysterious place known as Perch-Mistletoe where we also see Franklin, this time interacting with Albert directly but who then turns into or reveals himself as Baker Bloch instead, with Franklin likewise realizing she’s Wheeler Wilson. The 2 main core avatars of my blog and attached photo-novels in other words, the great male-female (or female-male) duality. What it all revolves around. Then in the main arm of the Starfish Lake or Sea to the northwest of that we have Dr. Mouse’s practice which Albert also visited and turned into a baby apparently, a symbol of rebirth. Another pin is lit up beside it but we can’t speak of that yet. Place called Dub — displaced actually. To this couch so we can talk with him/it.

Another form:

Another:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dub,_Arkansas

Then moving to the west and the south again, directly below Dodgey City we have another mystery area centered by a place called the Art Box which we’ve visited several times before in our blog chronicled journeys, and which will surface again soon in relation to the missing file or files mentioned by Midge. Then to finish up for now, in the north central, we have the location of the map itself, my Lebettu Castle on Rooster’s Peninsula, my new home as of the middle of photo-novel 33 back in the late spring now. It’s been a perfect match so far. There’s no question I had to downsize.


Collagesity back in the days

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0109, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, North, Retirement Islands, Rooster's Peninsula, Upper Austra^, Wild West, Yd Island^

Wildest West

“You know it’s not a nice place over there,” she said in her wise voice about the “town” across the water, this Dodgey City where we’ve just seen our now familiar friend Jem — Gemilly Johnston (or Johnson).

“What’s your story, then?” I asked down to the Grandma type figure in her old fashioned clothes, cane clutched to breast as she lay on a colorful towel at the beach house rental. She’s thinking about it. “Missing file?”

Instead of answering me directly, she said: “It’s good you’re back on Nautilus. It’s even better you’re back on the mainland, off that island — even though it technically is part of the continent.” She stared over again. Hard to read her emotions from this distance. Sad? Worried? Angry? Perhaps a mix of a number of these.

“About the file,” I insisted.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, Nautilus, 0102, Wild West, North, 0036

Jem’s World

“Well, my name is Gemilly Johnston — Jem for short — and these are the books I’ll be keeping up with (!).”

So cheerful that first week, she says, reviewing her introductory video, whiskey sour in hand as usual when looking at this type of stuff. So many videos in her collection now. But this was one of the clean ones, before the dirt and grime of the city, this Dodgey City, became fully evident, thanks to John. *Not* Jim.

“I live about 1500 meters up in a nice house with a beautiful perpetual sunset, right on the beach. See? (she indicates a hand, an arm). I’m already working up a tan (!).”

If I could go back and kill her — myself — I would, thinks Jem here, wanting to wipe that ridiculous smile off her face with a rag of acid. OK, maybe Texas Pete.

“The house is owned by John L. Brown, who is also my boss, who is also my, ahem…”

Boyfriend? thought present Jem. Fat chance.

“… cousin,” past Jem completed her sentence.

Wait, is that possible? present Jem thought. She reversed the video, started over. At 2:32: “cousin” again. She doesn’t remember saying that. Plus it wasn’t true (!!).

—–

But John L. Brown for one knew it was and changed the wording yesterday after also slyly suggesting she take a day off for mental health reasons and look at old videos from the archive to soothe her nerves, especially recommending — or starting with — the one she’s viewing right this moment. Jem eventually figured this out as well as she continued to sip (or at least try to contain it to a sip) on one of her whiskey sours and ponder and ponder. Cousin — that aspect conveniently forgotten, conveniently wiped from memory, just like she was trying to wipe the happiness and naivety from her past self’s face back then in her imagination. She imagines someone standing behind her, looking at her as if on a video, trying to wipe something from *her*.

“John L. Brown,” she muttered with Texas Pete, add a little Oklahoma from beyond the screen. She turned (toward the camera?). Time for my close-up.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, Nautilus, Texas, Oklahoma, 0101, Wild West, 0036

Black 02

He was walking down the same beach again as before, but from the right direction instead of the wrong direction, he felt, Shelley encountered *first*, with Darla and her friends Lois and the other one in the background now. “Hi,” he said, slowing down. She moved her legs out of the sun fully under the Umbrella, staring at him. “Some decision we have coming up.” He wiped his brow of pretend sweat to seem more authentic. From somewhere inside her one piece black bathing suit she pulls out a pistol and shoots him.

Albert wakes up in the room intended for first Darla and next Shelley. He’d found her, but only in his dreams. *This* was reality.

He stares out a window between butterfly curtains he’d picked out at Macy’s toward the heart of the pretend city that they both were suppose to live in. Together.

“What went wrong?” he muttered, oblivious to the truth still, and that he had reaped what he sowed. He was the prisoner now.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0513, Crisp Sea, Gemini, Hana Lei^^, Nautilus

a number of characters in a number of sims

“So nice here beside the fire. So, whaddaya think, Wheeler? Is Claude on to something?”

“I want to be independent right now.”

—–

So Baker shared some links and let her go. Cloz they were here, Sporminore and its Roberts and Franklin (and Albert?) just north. Claude to the (Wild) West again, where’s he still under employment at the Umbrella Club where we first ran into Darla and Lois and those other girls, the purple clad one and the other one we haven’t revisited under the umbrella itself. Moray and the now bombed and destroyed Docks Town 2 sims to the east of us. Apples and Etherea — and now Darla and Lois again — about 400 meters southwest in Darter (Ohio parcel). Let’s see, Shelley, yes. Also in Cloz, having escaped the explosion by returning to the Triggerfish Motel. Ah yes, Triggerfish.

But first, Zander. Sorry: Codlet.

But that’s not Shelley on the beach behind the island shack. Liz instead, and we’re not quite ready for her story. Back to Triggerfish…

There. We start again. Apologies. Still no Shelley. That’s The Musician, her fiance, her soon-to-be husband if all goes well for him. Wonder what he’s doing here? Hold on, I’ll have to log Baker back in for this.

Looks like he’s getting at least semi-professional advice about his marriage, his life in general from Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer, who we haven’t seen in a while in these here photo-novels, 35 in a series of… well, we’ll see. Let’s listen in.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0202, Crisp Sea, Nautilus, North, Wild West

Black

A new crop of potential recruits has shown up on what they call Umbrella Beach on the western edge of Nautilus’ Crisp Sea, chatting after the delicious, shrimp dominated buffet. Decision time coming up. Whether to step into the shade of the protecting umbrella or go back out into the glare of the harsh, unrelenting sun, all exposed and for everyone around to gawk at in their increasing redness. Red ironically protects against red, they said during the meal, standing up one by one, these past recruits, to give their testimonies of success and life fulfillment through the initiative, the collective. Already, one here was basically under the umbrella, decision made, shackles (of outside life) removed and legs to be retreated back in the shade with the rest, perhaps even before I write this sentence. The purple clad one in the background middle was also about to cave, being a bigger shrimp lover than Lois in white. Sitting down Darla was just ready to go home and be done with it, another one forced here by a prevert relative trying to seduce her to the dark side. “Okay, okay,” she said to her mother Tulipia in a call between meal and beach. “You win. We’ll move to Ohio.” Joy in the Conner household tonight. Uncle Albert would *not* be tagging along, thanks to a restraining order issued by Pinky, Darla’s father, just yesterday.

Speaking of which…

“Medium build, medium height, wearing a black bathing suit. Any idea?”

“Sir you just described about half the girls that walk on this beach.”

“Oh. Thought of something else. She wears a Venus cage necklace. Very distinctive. I don’t think (smile?) you’d be able to miss it.”

“Just a moment; hold on. I promise not to do anything stupid.” Beach cottage owner and secret “receiver” Claude briefly goes inside and retrieves a box, opens it for the stranger. “You mean like *these*?”

It was full of such. Claude gives them away to every girl lured in by the bosses. He doesn’t tell Albert they’re trackers as well. They know where you are.

“Whatever that picture you’re referring to, every one of those girls up there has sent back the same to their family.” He also doesn’t tell Albert they track even through photos. Powerful amulets indeed.

“Interesting information,” says Albert, the uncle of not one but several girls involved down through the years. He comes from a pretty big family. “Just for that, I’ve decided not to shoot you.”

Relieved look?

“Just kidding! POW POW… POW.”

No wounds. Albert wasn’t kidding. Just a water gun… this time.

“You *fell* for it [delete name],” he said while walking away, already plotting Plan B.

—–

Dripping Claude runs inside, calls the boss who would care the most and explains the hold up. “We have another situation,” he says, knowing the boss would understand. “Heading your way.”

“We’ll take care of it,” the boss says to him in a deep, level voice made for a crinimal. “We’ll send him to the Abyss. With the others.”

“Good deal.” [Delete name], *pheh*.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0105, Crisp Sea, Nautilus, Wild West

Scroop’s closest one-to-one name match in the Oracle is Scrougeout

Spider guides. Wheeler’s new fashion design business highlighted by “accident” (foreground) on my big Nautilus map in the sky. Nearby Strutter sim’s steampunk village Rugburns with the cat-witch and her own tuxedo cat (“Pheh! Tuxedo?” she uttered disgustingly when learning she couldn’t get a solid black one) is gone now, disappeared back into the pixels it came from.

Strutter’s closest one-to-one name match in the Oracle is Struthers, reminding us of Shelley and her Lebettu Castle where I just came from, me being Newt, formerly Axis-Windmill and with last name yet to be determined. Perhaps it is Newton. Heck perhaps it is Struthers, and Shelley is my child, hmm. *Our* child?

Anyway, Spider is back and I’m glad of it. Less work for me to find the next meaningful association to continue the blog posts being churned out one-by-one, like Struthers to Scroop here where the two-dimensional, numbers uttering chihuahua with a name of a different animal species altogether stands upon. Sim, that is…

… and diagonally on it in addition. Let’s follow this.

—–

Ahh yes.

I miss it.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0505, Collagesity Fordham, Long Islands, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Wild West

assimilations continue

Long Islands’ Benvolians love their solo artists. Here’s Prince and David Bowie, perhaps the 2 greatest such acts in musical history in terms of just raw, pure creativity.

Then of course Mama Cass (top), along with Elvis and Ol’ Blue Eyes Frank Sinatra. David Bowie has blue eyes too, but, as I think I’ve relayed here before, one appears brown or darker because of a condition called anisocoria (enlarged pupil). And then there’s Wilson Wheeler, I mean, Wheeler Wilson modelling another purple outfit, this time one of her harper dresses. Wheeler actually is afflicted by the same eye discoloration, seeming to have 1 blue and 1 brown eye. No mere accident there.

She stares over at Bowie, wondering if she has his anisocoria or true heterochromia — actual mismatched blue and brown hued eyes in other words. Doesn’t matter, she decides. The effect in this same. In the moment, she’s actually, come to think of it again, a mixture of Bowie and Prince, the latter famous for his purple garb. Interesting they appear together here in this most famous of Benvolian locations called Brazen Head, claiming itself as Our Second Lyfe’s oldest Irish pub. I think the owners anticipated the coming of Wheeler. She’s very famous as well, moreso in the future than the present. She’s working on it. Might be a modelling or fashion designing career that leads her there, might be something else. Desire creates reality, and she’s very determined to make it into that exclusive circle.

Maybe she should take up jazz piano.

—–

Ho ho, she can play!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0504, Long Islands, Nautilus

who’s that lady in purple

She finds herself staring through a window on Long Island, needing more clothes. She decides to assimilate (again). Wilson’s, she ponders the title of the shop while studying the inventory within. We’ll just shift that over one to Wheeler, let the women have the upper hand, although both sexes will be served once more.

—–

Better. And no Alpha needed this time. These were old fashion, BOM based outfits. She crosses her legs and waits for more plot to happen. She’s ready now.

“I’m still going to shorten my legs,” she says, studying her toes too far from her face, story renewed.

“As you wish,” spoke Newt, knowing the moment would pass. It always does.

He folds the paper over, puts it in his lap. “Wheeler”, he says, staring forward.

“Yes?”

“No, I mean the shop.”

“Yes, once more.” Her shop now. And she has a special purple one for Newt later. Ah heck, how about now. The legs can wait.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0503, Long Islands, Nautilus, Wild West