Tag Archives: Anorexia/Annie^^

confluence

Afterwards she took off her shoes and sat beside the old motel pool, now closed for dysentery reasons. No details need be applied. She would immediately wash her feet in the Dari-Creme bathroom just behind. Mother had returned to their modest but clean downtown apartment, sterilized like all the rest during the Great Disinfection of ‘011.

Ahh, fate, she though. Having a beautiful mother who everyone is attracted to more than her, even her own classmates like Multiface, like Preston Weston. She then dwells on the brace burdened lad who sits behind her in geography class, taught by the same mother. It’s one of the reasons she got the tattoo — so that he would see it all the time. Satori, she pondered. *Not* Maebaleia. This would teach him and everyone else that she was a Northerner at heart and always would be, despite some dubious origins. Stamped in flesh, as it were. Fixated in time and space and… options. No option for her any longer. “The name — of the continent — is *Satori,*”  she shouted at her mother one day. Then it was off to the parlor to ink some color on her neck and back.

She pondered more tonight while daring to dangle her feet in the pool a little longer, like the alley that use to center the village which was so ill of repute. Creepy Alley they called it for a reason. Before receiving her teaching certificate in ’08, her own mother use to hang out in that place. There were rumors — unsubstantiated for the most part. But it was beyond doubt that mother took the occasional walk on the wild side, playing Nico to any Lou Reed who decided to properly peel their banana. Where was Zappa when you needed him? But that was the province of Annie (Anorexia), who isn’t part of the present story. Shame, though. Maybe we’ll be able to fit her in later.

—–

And there she is.

“Who’s out there, baby doll,” Karl gruffed. “Is it *him*?? Let me at him, let me at him!”

“It’s – not – him,” Annie metered out, trying to calm her latest husband down. “It’s *her*.”

Karl waited a beat for an explanation, then: “Her *who*?”

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Filed under *Second Life, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Pipersville/Sink X^

motel

“I think that’s the worst part of leaving the South for me, Jer my bro.” He stares at Bogart and Bergman on the screen. “No colored TV.”

“I hear ya.”

—–

“I *love* black and white TV,” Cathy A. squeals downstairs at basically the same instant in time. “Reminds me of my childhood in…” She tails off here.

“In where, pumpkin spice? You mean…?”

“Yeah.”

Marcus Fox Smartville studies her sad face, so filled with joy just a moment before. Then he notices the rose.

Not the same hand, not the same color. Just with the insinuation of Crabwoo everything had changed.

“I’m remembering things,” she said.

—–

“Anorexia?” he responds just a minute later. “What kind of name is *that*?”

“She goes by Annie.”

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Filed under *Second Life, Gregson, Maebaleia/Satori^^

centerpoint

Young Ruby looked far and wide for her missing friend Shirley Boot, starting with Yd Bay on the far side of New Island, hoping to hell she didn’t find another bobbing head there like she did before with Trashy the Clown’s (she didn’t).

Another place to visit was Faux Aunt Annie and Karl’s Gloomy Gus on the west coast. Now the last couple of times we checked in — well, actually throughout this *whole* novel, looking back — it seems that Annie was in a heap of trouble with all these pills and incessant dancing and, um, the other thing. And she was! But the death of Trashy the Clown, although extremely difficult to get over at first, was a blessing in disguise. She cleaned up, with aid from loving beau Karl — locked up in the Gloomy Gus for going on two weeks. She emerged exhausted and dehydrated and still a little nauseous, but ready to move forward into the future without drugs and the other, attached things. Karl was her focus now, her beacon of light. So we have a happy ending to that part of our story, and an important one it is. But no luck for Ruby this day — no sign of Shirley there.

Mrs. Fogg and Ms. Frame, now moved in together for mutual protection, food, and liberty, hadn’t seen her either. That basically took care of the whole northwest section of the island, so active these two women were with their sailing and beach running and frequent picnics to the top of Mt. Sondra where they had a commanding view of that part of New Island.

Blue Jay Wade was dead, and his former chum turned complete psychopath Big Red Butler remained incarcerated at the Gaston-Berry jail, at least for this week. But neighbor Zettie Lamont the zebra-ass, similar to Fogg and Frame, had a pretty good view of the lower western part of the island from his perch atop Pimushe Isle. He relayed to the disappointed Ruby that he hadn’t seen the young girl either.

How about one of the houseboats or yachts at the Diamond Sailing Club? Possibility, but since Lisa the Vegetarian Smipson left for Corsica, she has no contacts there.

No one lived at Artist Point in the southeast section of the island. The east was dominated by Mid Hazel’s compound of buildings. Ruby felt that if Shirley had somehow gotten stuck over there she was doomed anyway. Lost to a powerful witch.

Which left center: Mabel’s house (Mabel and roommates Fisher and Bendy had seen nothing), Eraserhead Man and his Rabbit Hole house (nada again), and Robot Derak Jones (who said, check with Eraserhead Man, which she’d just done). Hmm, she thought, standing in the middle of central Route 9 dividing the island almost cleanly in two. She looked down at the buildings: Elephant Club, Axis’ Castle, Flossie’s, a new place beside Bumpy’s Ice Cream Village. “*Wait*,” she suddenly exclaimed. “The Village! I could ask Lavern Glam. She has eyes everywhere.”

So we head back to the ice cream truck, the sole component of this so-called village. Use to be bigger in the day, as they say. But Mr. Glam sold part of his original land to the Elephant Club, who turned it into their western parking lot, and then part to Oranga Black who built the Arcade in back. He downsized from a double wide trailer with indoor seating to the small truck we’ve already seen in that last post, whose cab also doubled as his daughter’s bedroom for a while. She didn’t mind: she felt she remained in the center of it all that way.

Ruby approached the truck. “You’re not Lavern Glam.”

“Yet *you* remain oh-so-red Ruby Roo,” spoke the alien behind the counter. “Exactly 15 1/2 today, this minute, this, um, second actually. Your anti-birthday.”

The island blew up around them. To those on the outside, those who survived, they describe the sound it made as close if not the same as middle C on a piano. Queer, huh? Too queer? We’ll see…

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island^

(too) red (spot)

“Face it Ruby. Your aunt’s gone. I stopped DJ-ing about 5 hours ago and she’s still dancing up a storm. She’s lost. Lost to the beat of the island.”

“C. The tone is C.”

“C? Like in a musical C? Middle C?”

Middle-of-15 Ruby didn’t answer. “Take me back home, Fisher. I’m tired of hearing and seeing this.”

—–

“We FAILED in this one, Baker…!” Eraserhead Man turned in his rocking chair and squinted over at my avatar, trying to make out the sex, but his eyes weren’t adjusted yet. “Baker B.!” he just finished to cover both possibilities while resuming his coffee drinking.

“Why don’t you turn your hearing aid up, Eraserhead Man! But there’s Ruby left!”

“Ahh, Young RUBY. Elephant’s ears and eyes both.” By just mentioning (shouting) her name, Eraserhead Man could suddenly hear and see better; didn’t even need the hearing aid now. He pivoted again and saw he was talking to the male Baker. “The Corsica continent is still in play Baker *Bloch*. I didn’t try to nuke Bumpy’s Ice Cream Village for nothing!”

“I hear they have land sharks now!” my avatar offered about the continent.

“No need to shout, Male Baker. Hearing’s up.” Sipping EM gave him a thumbs up from behind.

“Oh. Didn’t even see you turn it up. But it’s different times, Eraserhead Man.”

“Pencil, please,” the rocking male requests, still staring ahead. “We’re *friends* now, I’m suddenly remembering.”

Baker B.’s memories started kicking in as well. Yes. *Friends*.

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island^

over the hill

“Give. Me. Some. PILLS!”

—–

“Flying high are we again tonight Annie? And we’re also joined by Young Ruby. Hi Young Ruby!”

“Hellooo,” the 15 year old replied innocently across the table. The Table. She was also flying high but in a different way.

“And of course The Librarian between you. But let’s go further up tonight, guys,” Axis suggests, retaining a small, mischievous smile upon his lips, Mona Lisa style. “To the Hitop Pool of Undifferentiated Lovemaking. Love, I meant there. 1/2 and 1/2. And I believe its Hilltop. Let’s top, er, hop to it!

—–

“Annie, you chose the red tube. That means you’re temperamental and undisciplined. Ruby you chose the blue one. You are even keeled and fun to work with. Your weaknesses are chocolate…”

“It is!”

“… butter pecan…”

“Right!”

“… and lemonade.”

“Sure ’nuff! Remarkable Axis.” Young Ruby was amazed over how spot on his on-the-spot psychoanalysis was. Axis was an evil genius for sure! And also: in that order.

“It’s time for me to turn into the dog.”

Oh goodie, both women thought as one. Their love of Tin Tin was only matched by their love for their weaknesses, but unfortunately he had his back to them tonight with not much to say.

The sun was rising on Hilltop Pool. The sun was always rising here, over wealthy and poor alike.


Sun Rose.

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island^

internal/external

These days Young Ruby often sits atop the Rose 01 dune, aka the Blue Rose Dune, and meditates on her surroundings:

Eraserhead Man’s cottage to the south and its Rabbit Hole portal, now fronted by a small grove of palms…

… Axis’ supposed castle to the west…

… but then an even higher castle across Route 9 that Ruby speculates may his actual home in a bluff, this Man in the High Castle, after all. But maybe both castles are bluffs…

… since we also have the moving castle, the island’s Monster as some call it, including her Aunt Annie.  It almost invariably appears to abductees/visitors in or around the Wastelands. More on that soon.

Poor Annie, Ruby thinks. Lost in a quagmire of undifferentiated pills, dance, and sex now. Like being covered in bees with no whirlwind plan for escape.

She should go visit Karl over in the Gloomy Gus after this; get a measure of how he’s holding up. That way she can also stop by the duplicate Scarlet Creative Sylvia House and see if Mabel is, by chance, home. She’d like to catch up with what’s happening over in Heterocera these days. And her doppleganger.

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island^

no elephant memory

Fisher soon gets a part time job DJ-ing at the local Elephant Club to help support his religious, artistic, and recreational causes, but usually only one dancer showed up: perpetually bopp’n and popp’n Annie, always attracted to a New Island beat and often freshly landed from the latest High Castle abduction.

Still — alternating between Roger Pine Ridge’s hit single “Time” and its flip side of “Beach” tonight upon her request — he imagines the tips piling up.

Just for the, um, record, the father of Corsican gal Laverne Glam owns both this club (named for the trademark shape of his home continent) and neighboring Bumpy’s Ice Cream Village his daughter works at. Hopefully we’ll be able to fit in more of their interesting New Island story soon.

But right now we must return to the Fisher and Bendy show…

—–

“I remember the first time we met. That chess shack back in VHC City.”

“It was an ice fishing shack that just happened to have a chess set laid out inside,” Fisher corrected. “And it was the *last* time we met.”

“Oh. Right. Forgot.”

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island^