https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Photo_comics
“Geez I miss the old country. But I must get back to Instabar for the neighborhood watch meeting. Might be the last of its kind!”
“What about *us*?”
“You’ll just have to wait.”
penultimate?
When I stared over at White Elvis, I realized I had his hair and got rid of it. The older doo, not the younger one (pictured) here. But still — a reminder.
I am now more The Man(n) than ever.
I turned to red, white and blue Cpt. Americus downing yet another piece of yellow chicken from his magical, chicken piece producing bucket and ask him where it went all wrong.
He mentioned something about Wheeler f-ing things up. I didn’t know who Wheeler was. He said she was the ideal woman, the Venus Da Milo. I said, “*de* Milo.” He said, “whatever,” and chose a breast to eat next with his free hand.
I thought back to the story of lusty Jack the Mallard on Fruity Islands for some reason. Probably because I was looking for the same there. I must go back sometime. Eden…
As he kept vociferously munching and crunching, I considered I was dealing with a Southerner here. Hence the chicken. Hence the White Elvis; black nowhere to be found in this recording studio. No Lena Horned, for instance. No “Ballad of Stormy Daniels.” I then realized this could be the studio of Your Mama. This was *the* room. I decided to ask.
“Who’re you recording today, Cpt.?” I didn’t say the full name on purpose. I was testing how far I could go without falling back.
Cpt. Americus glanced into the studio, as if someone was there. “Oh, the usual. Local gal.”
“White, I assume,” The Man(n) wanted to say, but instead said, “good that you’re developing the local talent.” And then more information spouted from the Cpt.’s masticating mouth full of chicken. Disgusting. But – must – keep — digging. Further tonight.
“Yup,” he spoke. Then the girl returned from her break, beautiful in a black gown.
—–
I decided to go back tonight. The place (with the beach chairs) Da Womann and I sat and chatted and some other stuff was gone. Maybe it was all a dream? But the statues were still there. Adam and his Eve.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0018, 0316, Corsica, Fruity Islands, Instabar
more neighbors
“The Man had many centres he could manifest out of his inventory, but, legend says, when he found wo-Man he stopped the process and threw up his arms in glee. Thus Eve from Eden is born and Adam, The Man incarnate, called it D-vine.”
Larch (later: The Man himself) halted his creation story spun atop his spinning cube to look down at Superduper Guy and Batty Man’s “backfire-mobile” (his word for it) pull up next door.
“Pow POP!” it went when stopping, and Larch imagined small cartoon clouds with these words emitted from a smoking muffler. Nightshift worker Mrs. Dumbledwarf to the south became even more awake when the two super heroes slammed their car doors, then spotted Larch on his rooftop workshop and threw up their arms in greeting, calling “What up, *Man*!?” in unison before heading into their mansion, not waiting for a response. Because it never came.
Larch hated those two.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0018, 0315, Corsica, Instabar
Down on the beach and 100 years ago:
No one ever listened to Glaub the Uninformed. “Hey guys. Guys. Hey guys. Hey you guys. You guys. Hey… looky. Hey you guys looky. Looky over here. Looky. Guys?”
“WHAT IS IT?” his fellow Dwarvin pirateers exclaimed in unison, still not turning around.
“I think The Man is *this* way.”
“HUH???”
After finding yet another of his proclamations a dead end, it was Delvin’s responsibility to shut Glaub — they call him Glauby — up for the rest of the afternoon by sitting tight on his face and body.
—–
“Mmhphmm, mmm,”
“What’s that Glauby?” Delvin exclaimed, pretending to interpret the garble. “The Man isn’t that way after all?”
“Mm, MMHmp, mm.”
“That’s what I thought.”
But Glauby’s mates hadn’t tried hard enough, so use they were to the wolf cries. This one time his naive instincts were correct. They didn’t check upstairs.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0018, 0314, Corsica, Instabar
Hidey, actually
“Hmph. Hidi’s got a privacy screen surrounding her property now. And ban lines. Can’t get in. Doesn’t reply to im’s.” Mary Peppins scratches her chin, then continues to speak to herself while looking eastward. “Guess we’ll have to put up with that eyesore over there a little longer.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0018, 0313, Corsica, Instabar
hidden?
“Come here dear,” Mary Pippens requested from the open door. “I want to show you something.”
“In a minute dear,” spoke her husband of 29 years, Achilles. “I’m recharging myself on The Diagonal.” One day it will solve my nose problem, he then thinks while beholding the cursed big honker between his eyes. I’m sure of it. 15 minutes a day: that’s how long the church told him to do, no more no less. He looks down at his watch.
Two minutes and 37 second later, he began moving to the now closed door to join his wife at the bay window of their bedroom. “Look there, hubby. I stare out this window every day at one of my beloved, local hills, and this structure *definitely* hasn’t been here before. Here, I’ll open the window so you can take a better gander. Right over there on the old Elaine Ratio property. She’s rarely home any more, you know.” With her arthritis weary arm, Mary points toward the visible corner of my recently erected 32 square meter house in Instabar, the one Summerhill Nova warned could spell TROUBLE for me once again.
“We should alert the local neighborhood watch. Who’s the head of that thing now?”
“Hidi,” Achilles said. “I think — can’t remember the last name.” He sniffed and the cats ran away.
“Well, I’ll try to track down this Hidi tomorrow.”
“Good luck.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0018, 0312, Corsica, Instabar
the beginning (The Larch)
“Hmph. Mona Lisa again. Wonder what that black mirror means?”
“Hmm. The Man.”
https://secondlife.fandom.com/wiki/The_Man
“*Definitely* The Man.”
Then it was different, thanks to The Man (upstairs).
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0018, 0311, Corsica, Instabar
pious
“Thank you for meeting with me tonight, Hucka Doobie. Corsica is my greatest challenge”
“So I’ve heard.” She swigs a beer as well. “Well — *ahhh* (wipes mouth of frothy foam) — I’m here to help you. For sure. Go team.” She wants to raise her arm here for unity but finds she can’t.
“Thanks. See if I lean back, Hucka, I’m right on the line at 162/162. The planners of the Melder sim, these *Elmers*, must have known about this new Diagonal in my estimation and taken steps to incorporate its energy into…”
“… their plans,” finished Hucka Doobie in the gap. Another beer gulp. “Well, it’s a very interesting theory and I suppose it has to be true on some level.”
“Can you feel it?” requests Baker Bloch. “I’m right on it but I’m just wondering if it works in proximity (as well).”
“Not really. But I don’t really work that way.” She emits a secret smile here, like a Mona Lisa. “You know,” — she looks down at her beer, her free hand — “*I* could have gone out with the Good Rev. Amos T. Sandman. It didn’t have to be Wheeler.”
“Yeah. I think it *did*.” Baker Bloch looked over, thinking Hucka Doobie was an attractive woman, but Wheeler… Well, Wheeler is Wheeler.
She has her ways. Hucka Doobie is fantastic as a spiritual guide to the blog. No need to bring her into all that. If necessary I’ll get Baker Blinker to talk to her. “We, you and me Hucka, are alike in that way.” He points back and forth between them.
“Hmph.”
“Anyway, The Diagonal doesn’t necessarily work that way.”
“Doesn’t it? Didn’t Sid Viscous and Martha Lamb get engaged on a Diagonal and then seal the deal there?”
“I suppose.” Baker considers. “But that was the Heart one. The Head one was probably different.”
“Yess… but what is *this* one, the new Diagonal? How does *it* function?”
Baker ponders again. “Well, it’s obviously about religion.” He elaborates. “The tree church at the first of this section is on it. And then here — Summerhill’s church.”
“This is not Summerhill’s church,” Hucka Doobie speaks plainly, looking around. “But I know what you mean.” Another swig. Hucka Doobie considers that she may always be alone. Without love.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0018, 0310, Benangatron+, Corsica, Splinterwood
my greatest challenge
1/2 green, 1/2 granite, all bastard. Corsica.
to the east from the centre
to the west from the centre
Let’s get back to business…
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0018, 0309, Corsica, Instabar
the ones
“The Fries with Cheese branch of the Main Cheese Church and the Church of the Cult of Oo’d over there have existed side by side in Collagesity for well over a year now. Clown sacrifices (Oodites) next door to a religion (Cheesies) headed by a clown. But they get along fairly well — it’s a small town and everyone knows everyone. No need for protracted bickering, with the proverbial hatchet buried quite long ago underneath a ceremonial rock straddling their shared property line.” Baker turns and then points. “I think you can see it right down there.”
Wheeler leans over and peers too. “Yes. I see it.”
“Knives are the weapon of choice now, but only within the church.”
“Okay, good.”
Baker returns his attention to the story. “Drawing back to look at the bigger picture, the hatchet remains more exposed, a lingering effect of the VHC City-Pond District War. VHC City is where the Cult of Oo’d started, an underground movement at first that has secretly returned to that location in the highest ranks, wegee boards and planchettes in hand. Summerhill Nova, owner of most of the underground in that town, is titular head of the Oodties now as well, although they disguise themselves as Christians (ELMERS) for broader appeal. And as we’ve learned, the Pond District is home of the Main Church of Cheese currently fronted by the Good Rev. Amos T. Sandman.”
“Who I have a date with tonight, lucky me.” The gown she chose for the occasion suited her well, Baker thought. She was trying to use her position of power to gain information. He continues…
“Summerhill has remained pure and white as glue to promote the above ground version of her religion. Amos T. Sandman’s appearance is like a bouquet of blossoming color. Yet dig down just a little and it is clear these two leaders have much in common beneath opposing surfaces. Each is a *hatchet* themselves.”
“Explain,” requested Wheeler while holding up a pocket mirror and applying more lipstick.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0018, 0308, Church of Ood, Collagesity Fordham-, Fries with Cheese, Lower Austra, Nautilus
Sunklands 