Category Archives: Urbane Blue/Fishers Island^

continent obsession continues…

But he didn’t go home (Real Life/back to bed). Not yet. Instead we find him traveling through centers of sims (128/128), like here in Gaston, staring at the Dark Peak of two twins, the other topped by (a) white as hell Jesus (statue). Slavery inside the first. Black. And I found a black man in this very spot back in photo-novel 7. Perhaps staring at this very thing and understanding the truth. It wasn’t Duncan, but Duncan found out later that he was also there in hypertime. And he had red on his hands, which meant Indian and blood at the same time. What happened here?

The sim before this (Rhodenwald): also a Black man found at the center, 11 this time. But not an African-American. A man with the last name of Black, the same as his wife/partner who likewise owned part of this sim. Duncan also found this guy — normal time now — and thought he was AFK, but then he turned toward Duncan, proving his mobility and his significance (to the cause). We have mysteries, yes?

Interesting.

And, to add to all this, Gaston is just kind of an extension of Omega/Meat City/Rhodenwald. Of sorts. Both are Hidden Vilages, “l” purposely removed.

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00350301

Someone emasculated that poor statue over there, she thinks, then continues to read.

Omega continent — might as well, ahem, bone up on the history since it seems she’ll be staying here a bit. Let’s see, Trojan-Durexian War… could have swung either way, interesting. Southern Bypass a key turning point, yes. She recalls that General Duncan led the charge for the Durexians, a black man. Arthur Kill Lemont Sanford told her this — is one of his heroes, right. Died unjustly for a cause and all, like Joan of Arc, one of my heroes.

And here she sits in a park where one of the important battles took place, or so says the locals who make a decent profit off of selling war souvenirs, like ink died bamboo shoots for the kids, and bamboo bayonets and bullets for the older generations. According to their pamphlet they even have one of those old Durexian bamboo planes famous for their bombings, as in failings. 1/2 couldn’t get off the ground, but that’s what you have when you base your air force on *magic*, nay voodoo (she corrected). Take away 2 or 3 control witches and everything heads south, as in out of the sky and into your back yard. But, true, their voodoo power was waxing at the end of the war, and the Trojans were good to get out with their heads up when they could. 1942. Or was it 1492? She couldn’t quite make out the figure on the page before her, as if it was moving about like a spider. Strange effect; strange thought.

There really wasn’t much here. That rock over there with the waterfall is where they tortured and sacrificed the slaves who worked for the Trojans, just to teach them a lesson. Slave Rock, then.

The whole sim was named after another aunt, fascinatingly enough, Beatrice in this case, beloved aunt of a famous local, weightlifting sheriff back in the days. Although there have been other theories tossed around about the appellation’s origin that’s what most go with currently. Mostly Beatrice, then.

And then through Newt, I find the remains of one of those old Durexian wrestling rings where they fought their slaves, and then where the barely victorious but victorious still Trojans, usually without clothes (see: statue), fought the Durexians as their own slaves. I believe that might be the Sheriff’s Castle just behind, where Beatrice lovingly made him soup for breakfast and cereal for supper, etc., devoted Tilists as they were. And that’s what we have to bone up on next: the influence of TILE in the general area. Or General’s area, actually, as in Duncan.

Getting dark. Better head home soon.

Is that a key over there?

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two primary cores now, racing to a portal at the corner of a sim

“Who’s that over there?”

Standing up from the magical bench of his namesake island where he was just born, Baker Bloch sees the Fox on top of the lazy and knows he must begin his underwater quest or mission commanded by this nefarious Mr. Low, who lives in the temple ruins just right over…

… there. Not the animal on top of animal spectacle Low the Ancient evilly insinuated, but obvious enough, he supposed. He was told he had exactly 199 seconds now to construct the demanded, fake cemetery and not one second or minute or hour more. One dive, one portal, and 200 seconds later: done.

But the situation had changed from before, the Before Times we’ll call them. Mr. Low didn’t need a highchair positioned above the pretend graves of 3 fallen comrades to know what we’re talking about, calling down to them that he was lowest no more. Shouting down to them.

Because, using hindsight again, he was still a baby obviously, with his lowest of the low tantrums and fits. When will he be able to truly say “hi” to the rest of the world and act like a proper grown up? Probably never, I’m thinking, or a very very *very* long time in the future only guessed at through layers and layers of needed “lesson lives”.


then


now

“One of us may not come back,” spoke Joey to similarly white haired partner/rival Methany on what amounts to be the same island almost 14 years later.

“I hope it’s you,” wittily returned Methany, because it was in the script, the white one. Thanks to the entrapment of Crystal in the art (and pottery) gallery, they had moved past monolithic orange (or red), but blue (or violet) and the possibility of 3 (or even 4) loomed ahead.

“Oh look, here comes Hamlet the 199 pig to remind us that we must act quickly and dutifully to complete our mission or quest.” Blast from the past.

Silence for a bit as neither acted, then, “I can’t believe you held that nasty skull in your hands and talked to it.”

“Only way to find out,” Joey countered. “Let’s go!”, and she dived into the Bay of Pigs first, quickly followed by the other. Surprise move to begin — any small advantage along the way may be the decisive one, she figured. ‘I hope it’s you,’ pheh. Well — right back at you “partner.” She kicked bubbles in her face to reinforce the edge. Feel the bubbles of the lost second, *eat* the bubbles, SWOOSH.

Wheeler always had the advantage thataway over Baker.

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Rhodes, Rhoads, Roads.

Must be catching…

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roads,_Ohio

The community was settled by people of German descent, and was originally known as “Berlin X Roads”.[2] The Berlin Crossroads Post Office was established on June 28, 1850, and stayed in service under that name until December 30, 1933.[4] As of 1901, the community was known as “Berlin Cross Roads”.[5] After World War I, due to the local feelings towards Germany, the Berlin part was dropped and in 1962 the community was registered with the USGS as simply “Roads”. At that time, the population was recorded at 130.[2]

http://codes.ohio.gov/orc/5533.26

The highway constituting a portion of the Appalachian highway system, and running east and west across the state between Cincinnati, Ohio and Belpre, Ohio, and passing near the city of Jackson, Ohio, shall be known as the “James A. Rhodes Appalachian Highway.”

Whenever a section of said highway is opened to the use of traffic, the director of transportation shall, as soon as practicable, erect thereon suitable markers indicating its name.

Effective Date: 09-28-1973 .

So let’s see what we have *here*. Lightning couldn’t strike again at another X Roads… could it?

—–

Looks pretty innocuous so far, but there’s men there again.

Hmmm: Twins. You have to stand right in the center to get the best effect.

—–

Roads from Carcassonne’s CAR (Complete Annotated Rules):

A completed road

A road is completed when the road segments on both sides end in a crossing,[3] a city segment, or a cloister, or when the road forms a closed circle. There is no limit to the number of road segments which can lie between these endings.

A player who has a thief on this completed road scores as many points as the road is long, decided by counting the number of tiles.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red_Lake_River

The Red Lake River (French: Rivière du Lac Rouge; Ojibwe: Miskwaagamiiwi-zaaga’iganiiwi-ziibi) is a river located in northwestern Minnesota. The river begins on the western side of the Lower Red Lake and flows westward. After passing through Thief River Falls, Red Lake Falls, and Crookston, the river merges with the Red River of the North in East Grand Forks.

More soon…

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clearing

The newest anomaly of Rhodenwald is gone as of sometime in the last 24 hours. A temporary madness.

Maybe that kind of madness will also pass for the country as a whole. But I don’t have my hopes way up.

“Uh herm, you’re showing a bit of an ankle there, New Nun.”

“No, Duncan, it’s just that I can’t hate this place. I *should*. But love is here. So much hate in the world.”

“Like the couple in the park,” Duncan Avocado in the wicker chair beside her said, referring to earlier conversation.

“Yes.”

He looked up from the bare ankle. “And the cross?” he spoke. “And the crucifix?”

“Yes, they will always be in hand. A second life must be prepared.” She pauses again.

“*Is* this a second life, a second chance?”

“I cannot say there is not love here,” she finalized, looking across the road at yet another symbol of red hate. Dixie seems to surround this oasis of Rhodenwald, a Meat City all around. We’ll have to talk about it further.

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Collagesity

Later, they’re joined by New Nun and perhaps some others. “New Nun,” the male Baker declares after her arrival, “you hold the cross and the crucifix in your hand at once and thus you are valuable to this here current photo-novel, 21 in a series of 20. Wait — what number are we on now?” New Nun shrugs. Duncan Avocado answers more philosophically. “We are beyond Collagesity and the number 20. We are Sunklands through and through now, the true archive. Collagesity became too — bloated.”

“Bloated?” responds Baker, truly puzzled in the current picture.

Or was it worry.

Duncan, who cannot express facial features since he is a mesh creature, elaborates. “Your original version of a virtual village, Pietmond, was also perhaps your best, or at least best balanced. You had artists coming in from the outside and having their own galleries. Yours was only one of a number. Then the new wave of collages came for you starting in, 2013? (Baker nods). Parallel to this came the new galleries, Power Tower, Falmouth, the largest of them all, followed by the Red Umbrella followed by Boos. Before you had 100 collages in 6 series, a well rounded and contained quantity: Art 10×10 I believe you named it (Baker nods). Then another wave hit, the second — stronger and deadlier. Beware the second wave.”

Baker understood now. Before it was Kenneth Rougeau, Melodie Darwin, Mike Casey, Stegocat, Max Ernst, Baker Bloch, Julie Sadler, and others. Afterwards it was just Baker. The second wave changed it all. Forever.

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left should be center

The United States of Our America is definitely in some kind of Civil War now, and I’m definitely on right, but just in the picture below. I’m a card carrying leftist. How did we become so polarized and broken? We politicize *mask wearing.* *Mask* – *wearing*. Ugh. But we must carry on, divided but somehow still united, and face the true enemies head first, rising fascism disguised as anti-socialism being one. I side with Rhodenwald (right) instead of what’s across the road.

It’s why Duncan has no desire for Baker Bloch to rent from Life Properties also across the road at the old Rhode Gallery site he sits in front of here, pheh.

“Don’t you dare,” he tells him. “Don’t you bloody dare.”

“Oh, okay.”

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The Anomaly

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return

Duncan’s a sucker for Linden trees, but he better get back on the trail. He’s going to recommend that Pot-D doesn’t rent (from *Life* properties) the old Rhode Gallery land next to that crazy Dixie chick. Now follow this: the Rhode Gallery that was directly across the *road*… from the sim of *Rhode*nwald. But it all seemed chance, as people put it. A random alignment of no consequence. Pot-D knew better. That’s why he’s on the payroll, at least for the moment. Next month: we’ll see. He’s always on call, though, back at his home still in VHC City, raising up Boy George to be the adult man he will become. He’ll grow into my shoes, thinks Duncan here. He will be a fine replacement one day. Duncan has a really hard time believing he’s 61 himself, graying hair on the temples. Back to the center, though. He can dream away his little dreamy thoughts in VHC City during his off times.

—–

Hmm, nothing seems to have changed that much. The Baby Trump blimp is still present. The park seems the same, sans the pumpkins — not in season yet. Let’s certainly don’t rush Fall! Duncan is of course curious if a man or couple named Black still own a good chunk of property here, including the park if he remembers correctly from last year when he first visited.

Yes he remembers this nice walk too. But no sign of the Blacks, although one of the two might remain, surname changed. Did they split up in the meantime? And, he couldn’t help himself: does this leave room for *me*?

Crazy romantic.

Other end of the path: what appeared to be another anomaly.

Yes it was. The circumstances that caused the reported one last year — and got Pot-D excited about Rhodenwald in the first place — are still present. He better get back to the group.

Duncan Avocado crashes out of Our Second Lyfe. The anomaly was just too strong.

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All Hail the Pumpkin King?

Center. 128/128: Rhodenwald. Roads Rhoads Rhodes. LIVES (2nd and 1st). Black Man… Men. Central Pumpkin.

“Pipersville,” Hucka Doobie chipped in.

“Pipersville,” Baker Bloch reinforced from the corner.

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