“Go ahead. Press it. It’s okay; I’m okay with it now. You’ll be fiiiinne.
“I just wanted to tell you that.
“Go ahead. Presss itt. I’m… okay with it now.
“Go ahead.”
00470507
*SPLAAAT* “Ahhhhh!”
—–
“Dear! Dear! What’s wrong dear!”
“Oh, ah. Nothing, dear. A dream.” I look around the bedroom, reorient myself. “Just one of those dreams again.”
“Superhero?” she guessed correctly, hand still on my shoulder.
“Yeah.”
—–
In another dream, his face appeared before me like a menacing red leaf… something.
“Island,” it hissed. “We have to go back to… the island.”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0507, Goikyland, New York
00470506 (The Fly 02)
At a lake in the center of the park, Joanna S. receives the illumination that someone is approaching…
… from a different dimension altogether.
Later: Creeping along in Times Square traffic, ha.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0506, MFS, New York
00470505
It was so dark he couldn’t see his hands but it didn’t matter. Baker Bloch knew he couldn’t play a lick, much less Beethoven. Tickling the ivories was more (female half) Baker Blinker’s thing. And his vampire alter ego Pitch Darkly’s come to think of it. He could change over, actually. But he decides to instead recede into shadow again, letting Newt be his new self once more. Question, then: could *Newt* play the piano? Let’s give him a minute and then turn on the lights to see.
—–
*click*
Kind of! Certainly not Liszt but is that an ineptly played Spongeberg Invention, perhaps No. 3? It turns out to be No. 4 but, point made I suppose. He can play *some*. He has hands of sorts, a bit mangled but they’re what they are at this stage of his finely aged life. Good enough for what he needs. Besides, he has other talents to practice…. ineptly, ha. Writing I’m talking about here. We better get back to it…..
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0505, Hana Lei^^, Jeogeot, Newtown
00470504
I stayed at the Roadway Inn in Big Water, Utah for the night. I knew this was the place to be when spotting these male and female cowboy silhouettes framing a red rock outside Room 605, 200 meters (or yards) effectively reduced to zero. Zeroing in, I took it.
The next day I set out for Bryce Canyon not far north of here. I intended to become one of those flying squirrels and survey the whole place by air. I succeeded, though not in the main task.
Eventually I found the actual Red Rock but it took a while. Bret helped. Said it’d been at least several years since he was up there with his ailments and all but we eventually stumbled upon the approx. 20 foot long stone at the top of a canyon cascade. Red Rock Rest, he joked about the name and suddenly became sad. I in contrast was overjoyed as hell.
Strangest thing. We saw a rabbit when walking around it for the first time which then hopped away, leaving what appeared to be its own shadow for a second. Then the “shadow” itself became animated and scurried away, being revealed as what seemed to be a large rat by its shape and motion. We saw no other wildlife while there besides birds. And these two seen were superimposed as one when first encountered. We took it as a sign. Only later did we find out the meaning.
Bret (and Sooki) soon gave me the nickname The Fly because of my prowess in the sky and it stuck like paper. Later when the newspaper articles stopped being published it changed to Airey for reasons unknown to me. In honor of someone I gathered but no one ever gave any details. A “nobody” is all they said about the person. Unlike me.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0504, Google Street View, New Mexico, Utah
from genesis to revelation
I started walking but I didn’t know where I was going. Turns out: the bottom. And, along the way, center, a place of rest called Red Rock about halfway up and halfway down. Red Rock West, as in the western states of our US of America. Or maybe I should change that to Red Rock Rest. Whatever… I’m on my way.
Lizard! I’m excited because in Nightsity which I kind of call home now — I guess – there are no wild animals left, just those rare and expensive ones in cages and tanks.
Snake! This is getting even better (!). Not a lot of wildlife but at least some. This is the only snake I saw, that’s the only lizard up there above it. Lots of birds, though. And I think I spotted a rabbit at one point but it hopped away quickly if so. Still… something!
Ahh. Red Rock West. Or Rest. Center of BD and also center of my up to down journey. It sticks out.
I later decided to ask long time resident Bret about it after reaching base camp. “Bret, I wonder while you’re mindless frying up more meat burgers that you could answer me a question.” I may not have put it *exactly* like that to the grizzled local legend but that’s the gist of it.
“Anything, Groundy,” I remember him saying as he scooped another big juicy patty off the grill and effortlessly slid it into a waiting, open bun already prepared with a big slice of tomato and a big leaf of lettuce. They started calling me Groundy after I told them I like to keep my 2 feet on the ground, as in I don’t like to participate in their unendingly practiced speed sports like skiing, skateboarding, mountain biking, and some others I’m probably forgetting. Hang gliding — yeah. And something, what was it, called suit flying… something. Like a flying squirrel they were.
Bret had seen a lot. Multiple champion of the Ryders Ridge Invitational in the early to mid 10’s — set all kinds of records, they say — but grounded himself now because of some bum part of his body — no one would tell me which one. Maybe multiple parts.
I said the name that popped into my head earlier. I was just testing him after all. Shouldn’t have expected so much.
“Red Rock West, lemme see lemme see.” He set the plate down for ski fanatic Arnold to dig into just before he hit the slopes for the 3rd time today. And it was only 2 in the afternoon. Yeah, there was snow here too. Obviously further up in the mountains but not too far. Improbably close, actually, given the warmth down here. Desert-like.
“Say you took a rest there,” he said when upright again.
“Yeah.”
“Then you’re talking about legendary Red Rock *Rest*. Yeah, *everyone’s* heard of *that*. Right Arnold?”
Chomping Arnold nodded up and down, knowing Bret was onto another whopper as he returned to his meat.
“Really?” I say innocently. He stared right through me from the grill. “Naaaaahhh. Just pulling your leg Groundy. There are 100s, maybe 1000s of red rocks around here and up in the mountains, choom.”
Choom? I think while turning red myself. Where’d he get *that* expression?
“Big, small, in-between,” he continued the chiding. “Describe where this particular red rock is and maybe it’ll jog my memory, designated name or not.”
“Up above the waterfall — or cascade I suppose. Above the canyon.”
“Any *balloons* around? Balloons identify the general region you’re in, Groundy. I take it you know that by now, though. You’ve been hiking all around here for a week now.”
A week? I think. Enough to acquire a nickname. And I recall they know I don’t like meat, like Bret’s ground beef here. So Groundy halfway comes from that too. And here I am, making myself a big fat juicy target next to meat parsing Bret. Might as well be shooting big red arrows at me like I was one of the local wildlife.
“I recall… something.” Someone waved in the distance outside the open kiosk window and I remembered. Thanks stranger!
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0047, 0503, New York, Utah
00470502
I saw the green soldier man lying dead outside the entrance to the Big Inside and my brain snapped. Little Big, my heart moaned. Little Big…
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0502, C2077, Kabusie
00470501
“So that’s it down there,” I said, rather unimpressed.
“Yeah,” she said. “I thought we better take a photo up here before we forget where we are. Kabusie — so complicated!”
“Yeah and you’ve lived here, what, 12 years?”
“After Major died…” We both became silent for a minute. Then: “Well, we better get down there and take a look. I need to get you back to the house before dark so you can play with your, ahem, BD’s, heh.”
Just that one night she caught me, I think here. I’ll never live it down. Moving on: “So I still can’t go out after dark here,” I started the now old complaint. “And me 21 1/2 years old?”
“You need to get a job — *day* job. Then you can spend nights at the apartment–”
“This place comes alive at night,” I countered. “What would I do in the day?”
My *point* is — if you’ll let me finish — you’ll be too wore out to do too much mucking about afterwards. Thennnn, when you’ve saved enough money and learned — a *lot* — more about the ins and outs of these mean streets — where to be safe, what places to avoid — *then* we can think about getting you your own place. Under *my* supervision.”
“Super*vision*?” I chafed again.
“Yeah, you know. In looking for an apartment. No, I don’t mean being with you all times of the night following you around or anything; we won’t be living together any more. Truly I want to let you grow up here before kicking you out of your new nest. Mother would kill me if I let anything happen to you. You know that… *baby* brother.” The emphasis on “baby” reinforced what our mother thought of me. Still a toddler in this world, still an infant. With monkey feet that you can’t put socks on. With a crib by the bed watching robots walk past then melt into wall corners. Ro-bots.
“Okay,” I tried to put an end to this worn out discussion. “What would I do in your mind? During the day?”
She readjusted her position on the rail we were looking over, as if preparing herself for a retaliatory blow. “Wellll, you could work at that factory that makes robots we talked about. Uncle Steve could help you get a position.”
Suddenly, with the synchronous conjouring of the word robot, I realized this was fate. I *had* to work at that factory. I breathed out. “I’ll think about it,” I decided to give her.
Lexi beamed while looking down. Her master plan might work out after all. “Okay, wonderful. Now let’s go take a closer look at *Crooked*.”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0047, 0501, C2077, Kabusie
00470417
“Dimmy, I am the mama you answer to from now on. Understand?”
Dimmy nods, suddenly not remembering how his mother actually looks. Maybe this *is* his mother. Yes, only several seconds later, he’s convinced. “I *will* find your toys, Mama!” he exclaims aloud.
“Good, good,” Rag Doll says to this. “At least you got the string. And *you* Newt,” she turns her attention to the other male sitting in the front row. “Newt of Newtown. What are you doing flirting with a woman 5 years older than you looking 15 years older? Does *Wheeler* know about this?”
“Well…” Newt glances over at second row Wheeler, who doesn’t glare back as might be expected but seems kind of indifferent to the situation. She’s seen worse. She *is* worse.
“Never mind. You met her in the mall today by the way. Do you think he was really there?”
“I–”
“Moving on,” Rag Doll quickly said. “To Osborne. Osborne, look up from your book and pay attention.”
Daughter Lou beside him nudges his ribs with her elbow. “Da-ddy. She’s talking to *you* now.”
“Oh, ahem. Um. What?”
“The town owner,” Lou tries to whisper but everyone in the room hears anyway. “Up there… on the stage. The dancers are gone. The main show is on.”
“Oh, erm, yes. Yes!” he speaks up, a little too loud he realizes. “I’m here, town ruler,” he softens a bit.
“And you’ve found MOA?” this ruler asks.
“Why yes, I believe I have. It’s in the basement…” Osborne looks around as if seeing the sewer room for the first time. Suddenly he doesn’t know where the library is, its basement, anything. He recalls… walking through a soda machine.
“Good enough,” says Rag Doll. “We’ll talk more soon in private about that. Let’s see, that leaves Eight and Eighty and then Pietmond and Norris. Let’s start with the girls. Eight, we’ve talk a lot down at the ratskeller together while Eighty was away, shared a lot of town gossip and rumors in our giggly, girlish ways. I wonder if you’ve thought about the note.”
“Eighty looks at Eight as if also betrayed, more than Wheeler perhaps surprisingly. Eight seeing Rag Doll behind Eighty’s back? When did her position in town change?
“I took the note from you 2 years ago and yet you didn’t protest. I called it worthless and you didn’t question my questionable assessment. Of course it’s not worthless. I’ve manifested it in your pocket — just look! EINSTEIN; ‘To; Tu/E.”
Pulling the note out and unfolding it, Eight saw, Eighty next to her too. More to talk about later.
“And then the boys, Norris and Pietmond. Clearly Nazis are bad and deserved to be mowed down, ancient headgear or not. So by, let’s say, moral default you have won the contest. Now think carefully: What do you wish your dream island to be?”
After high-fiving each other about the victory, the boys talked amongst themselves and then spoke up. They jointly described a post-Nazi (is)land full of decent Germans in a more modern setting, adding central yellow to an already present red and black in the national flag for increased light and illumination. Given enough time if not space, these people may even be able to make light/find levity in a dark dark past, they theorized. “Our ancestors, PHEH,” said one or the other. “What *were* they thinking about, and so on.” This would obviously take a while, though, the boys furthered. In the meantime, they could go about their daily business in the light of God-day without accumulated sin from their country’s history weighing them down. They’d be free. “This is what we wish,” they finished.
And so it came to be. The burg of Newtown with the sim of Newt at its core was born retroactively from that moment, hurrah! END OF SECTION.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0417, Jeogeot, Newtown
00470416
Newtown policepeople Michelle Roundup and Bill Mustardgas also formed a legitimate and formidable team but they were currently investigating the Blue Moon static murders over on the old continent of Our Second Lyfe and thus unavailable.
Nor were Ted and Cruise of the potential When Push Comes to Shovel team, still on the clock down at the motor shop and unable to get off.
Which left the following, assembled in the sewer room underneath the entrance to also absent Alfred’s grocer store (sick with pill), the heart of the matter. Starting back row to the right, we have Norris and Pietmond, 2 gypsies (don’t call them hippies!) who rammed and bammed into town from the South Gate in a most dramatic fashion back at the beginning of this here section, killing a number of Germans but defending their actions by saying they were zombies and not real people. Were they right? Let’s move on down the row and we might see.
Next are Eight and Eighty last seen in the ratskeller beneath town hall, waiting for Alessandra who is the same as a white-clad Wheeler. Wheeler mistakened one of them for town *owner* Rag Doll, but she got her position wrong in town. The owner herself will be arriving shortly to correct all that.
Moving on to the second row from the back — and also the front — we have Osborne Well and, next to him, his daughter Lou, taking the place of Ruby and Bookie who also couldn’t make it for various reasons. Next is Wheeler likewise subbing for Alessandra, but, unlike the others, not directly sitting with her partner, who would be next up in our review front row right: Newt. Then to finish our teams off we have Dimmy and Marilyn M. from the cloth shop scene a couple of posts ago.
Time for dancing around the main subject matter is over. Red clad Shelley and now black clad mate Eddy unclasp themselves from each other and leave the stage. Rag Doll takes control….
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0416, Jeogeot, Newtown
Sunklands 