Tag Archives: Arthur Kill/Lemont SanfordGTAV^*++%%

00390203

In a cage underneath the bed he waits his turn as reality shifts back into fantasy, virtual playstuff and all. It was always going to be this way. Once they returned to the top. “How’s your novel going?” he said over, blue rose decorated suit back on. “I’m really sinking into this one,” she admitted to her hubby who was still gone a lot of the time, acting in Europe, Asia and Africa currently, Shakespeare being a world-wide phenomenon. “Sinking as… how?” “You know, really getting into character,” she replied. He rolled over, stared upward. If he’d kept rolling he would be looking right at the answer. “So you’re Jennifer Lane, the writer who *writes* Shelley. But to me you’re still Shelley, since I’m not in your books.” “Oh, you’re in them alright,” she said, which was truth. Just not the whole. 2-4 percent, like incomplete milk for a half baked, choco chip cookie. And so, on the 5th day… “Explain,” he ventured, pressing further tonight, kind of hearing the muffled cries of help from beneath him but still kind of not. He could sense an actor in peril.

So she gave him permission to come back into her life, to live in this place with them as well. Her lovely Edward, fresh from a dog park over in Pickle 02. Someone else was under the bed now. He stared at the answer. “Jem, is that you Jem?” He rolled over, all the way. “Oh it’s *you*.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0203, Constantynople, Jeogeot, Kidd Tower, Middleton, Nautilus, Rank & File, Xilted

00390202

Mr. Babyface is now downstairs in Kidd, having yielded the top 2 floors representing his old penthouse apt. to the new couple in town, the *owners* as it were (Arthur and Shelley). He’s also agreed to share the dining table of his upper floor with them, since their own upper floor is basically taken up with a bed. That’s fair, that’s fair, he ponders, puffing on Red Dragon this morning. Out of Blue Pennant, his favorite. Have to run up to West Virginie for a restock soon. But how to get there? Last time he had to go through Hana Lei, holding his nose all the time. Fairy poop, yeck! The worst kind, and they leave it all over the place, not believing in civilization and modern conveniences such as flush toilets and pressure showers. Thus the body odor added in to the rest of the smells, the poop, the pee. He *hates* going there. And yet… I suppose the band Lamb is still in all that mess somewhere. High as the sky; not figuring a way out yet. They have likely been totally assimilated, he reckons. Poor Paul, poor Peter and Mary. He may never see them again. His poor poor nephew (*sigh*). *Anyway*…

He continues to puff as he stares at the Big E on the now shared table, a ritual of sorts. He doesn’t know quite what to make of it still except that it’s perfect in its own way, and a worthy additional the TILE family of absolute glyphs. He stares at the green green sim of Xilted, thinking back to his own experiences there, 0202 as well and exactly 3 novels back. More perfection.

He met a soldier specifically named Chet, a veteran of the Trojan-Durexian War. He can’t recall the names of the other soldiers that were there at the outpost with him and then lover Greg (or Gregg) but he remembers Chet. “Grass, the usual,” Chet always use to say to him whenever he asks the ever pointing, gun toting soldier what he’s aiming at today from his lookout post. And Mr. Babyface would always pause in his activities of the day and stare out with him a bit here — into the green green hills of Xilted (now with grass!). Maybe they could be considered even… friends? What else did they talk about? The cow loving, fellow Trojan warrior now living in the Northern Hills of the original Bellissaria continent? Certainly a possibility, I’m guessing, although they could have become chums after this assignment was over given the whole perpetual war thing, but certainly before his own untimely, well, death. Chet died at the hands of a machete wielding enemy with more blood lust in his spirit. Kill or be killed, he learned too late. But perhaps he was right in doing so; rewards in heaven and so on. Mr. Babyface didn’t know about Chet’s death, I’m supposing. He’d only learn that later in this here photo-novel, 39 in a series of a lot. Maybe from Groover.

And how appropriate his table is now 3 floors down from the top of Kidd and thus displaying the Xilted sim on its side wall as well. At the top — his former upper floor again — Shelley has (XY*Z*) Zebrasil, very close to a volcano that had just gone off. Can he recover enough to go at it again the next day? You betcha! Yet another perfection and directly related. Little e to Big E, you see. TILE talk.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0202, Constantynople, Jeogeot, Kidd Tower, Middleton, Nautilus, Rank & File, West Virginia, Xilted

reaching out

Arthur and Edward had an eyefull. “Constantyne, huh?” Arthur, the hubby, finally managed about the creator of the thing. “Queen of the cows, eh?”

“*I’m* queen of the cows,” crowed Jennifer to this, author of 37 romance novels, almost 38. “Or will be. Once my infiltration is complete. This is just step 01 of a 03 or 04 step process.”

“No need to bring zeroes into this.”

“No,” said Shelley, thinking Arthur’s sentence was more compliment than criticism. He was reading into what she said, seeing between the lines. However thin they may be. He looks again, then looks over at Edward doing the same. Might as well be a much thicker line drawn down the center of the room between them, real on his side, irreal or fantasy on the other. Romance novels, pheh. 2 boats in one, hmph. Both 6’5″, both the same size and shape. She *manufactured* him. But then he had a rethink. Both of them? She claimed she was now Jennifer after all. Not Shelley. He questioned further, not persuaded despite all the evidence.

“Will you still work for Al during all this? You said Thomas Boyy — whatever he’s called –.”

“She,” said Jennifer to this. “He’s also a she.”

“Whatever (again). Anyway, you were assigned to Al by him… or her.”

“TOM calls the shots, the male-female synergy at the top of the pyramid that is also the pyramid itself. He/she said to stay in FILE, in the column that is centered upon Constantynople, upon the Temple of TILE there to be specific. Upon the *front door* of the place to be even more specific. Right on the equator. Kenosha is at the top, Tomasina is one down, then Tigger after that.”

Tigger, she thought. Zero Hero! Arthur’s sentence back there was more criticism than complement, she realized. She must return…

She stopped her stands and indicated the filing cabinets in the corner of the 1 room building, a tiny house the owner calls it, neighbor to the Land of the Cows in Tigger as it turns out. The obvious “secret” agent who also owns the body swapping machine Arthur and Edward stumble upon to find out they were one and the same deep down. Thus the logical progression to *here*. “See what you can find in (those cabinets) — probably another clue. I’ll check back, say, tomorrow. Stay *put* until then. Maybe play cards with each other to pass the time, get to *know* each other better. Understand differences as well as sameness. You have your assignment. *Subordinates*.” She took her leave with that.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0704, Nautilus, NORTH, Rank & File, Temple of TILE

landfall

Arthur and Edward proving once and for all that they are indeed one and the same deep down.

“I don’t feel any different except for the clothes and hair,” spoke one.

“Ne meither,” said the other.

But what to do about it?

—–

“6’5″ both, huh,” said Thomasina about the presents. “Do they play good cop bad cop?”

“I… don’t know. They’re just *there* now.”

“Like the 88s,” she replied, thinking about an earlier time. Before Shelley grew up. She returned to her notes, saw Toy, Play, Mine, Thing on the surface of the paper before her. Separation, one into two. Like removing the shadows from a human face, leaving only outline. But comparing them side by side you can tell they’re from one image. The 8 fingered hand reaches out.

“Anything else, today?” As usual, people were beating down the door of Thomasina’s inner sanctum in the sim of Jasper, needing help for this that and that. She did all she could. She’s using her powers for good these days. She is the true eye of the pyramid. TOM. Both male and female energies. Synergy.

“I don’t suppose so,” Shelley-as-Jennifer replied. “I’ll stay within the column, the FILE, as you requested.”

“Good good. We have agents that are aiding you. Like with the body swapping machine. Good you know. Good *they* know. You will advance step by step, assimilate. Already a variant scenario where Lichen Roosevelt takes over the body has been absorbed. You are you again.” She looks at the now familiar Pepper for President shirt, the glasses, the gloved hands, the patched jeans, the sneakers. The blond doodle-bug hair. *Not* curly any longer. Lichen is gone, although the fear of being “cowed” remains. Probably the influence of Myrtle Beech back on Constance. More to be told there for certain. “Keep those bi-weekly reports coming,” she said in parting.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0616, Nautilus, NORTH, Rank & File

Jasper control

“Edward on the left, Arthur to the right. My two boys.”

“Yes, they’re very nice,” said Thomasina, staring down at them. “But… these are 2 boats, Jennifer. The same boat, in fact, by the looks of it. Just doubled up.” Thomasina wondered if she purchased them from the same place but didn’t ask this.

“Yes. My two boys.” Jennifer started to look confused. Why didn’t Thomasina understand this? 2 boats, 2 boys. What could be simpler? Takes two to know after all, she thought. Everyone knows that, every single person in the world knows that.

“Let’s begin again,” Thomasina decides while putting down the photo and re-scanning her notes on the table. She pounded her bat softly into her now empty left hand while she did, thinking mode on. Shortly: “You were born November 2021.”

“Yes. About.” She knew the exact date but didn’t like to show off her eidetic memory. Best to hide certain things from the world. She’s starting to rethink the whole Edward-Arthur reveal. And what is this batty outfit Thomasina is wearing? What did it mean? The obvious?

“You *were* Jenny Lane and then you grew all up, became weedy but not in that way.”

“Dabbled in some pot back in the days, yes. Plants were there so I took the opportunity.” Last time: July 10th 2007, she knew but didn’t say.

“Let’s not worry about the far past right now,” said Thomasina, sitting up and looking into her eyes again. “Let’s set some rules, or reinforce some rules. In the *present*.” She had several others in line at the gate already. Grammy was done (SODA addict — cured with a coke can filled instead with rancid urine) but more came. Guard Tank or Bazooka Ferguson had his hands full. Thank Gods for Steven, a needed distraction. But troubadour songs only go so far. “You tried Rank, now stick to File. Like here. NOd if you understand.”

Jennifer nodded. As long as her 2 boys were with her she’d make due. She could write her novels, she could live her lives.  She would escape the column *sometime*. Thomasina seemed to read her mind here — probably was.

“As long as Constantynople is a thing, you must abide by this rule. Try the up and down, *stay* in the up and down. Not even right and left any longer — that’s gone.

Jennifer thought of the overnight disappearance of Nightsity. Fantasyland was still there, though, in Bionaz Gulch. She asked about it. And also Dottieback, the many individual locations there. After all, these were directly east and west of Constantynople.

“That was for the last photo-novel,” replied Thomasina to this. “You might have missed your opportunity. You are going very fast with your writing but maybe not fast enough. If you’d just… stick to the plan.”

—–

So Thomasina changed forms and took her to Kenosha, the top of it all, the eye of the pyramid. Her extra pair of eyes rolled heavenward to reinforce the deal. “Gotta get back,” she said. “I’ll leave you here to start.”

—–

10:01 AM. But she stared anyway.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0611, Nautilus, NIGHTSITY, NORTH, Rank & File

orange to orangeade

She’d finished washing her hands and had rejoined Edward and Arthur in the living room. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with her, boys,” they heard her say from the kitchen, knowing Dukie was still involved. Unseen. Sitting at the small table Shelley and Arthur or perhaps Shelley and Edward would dine at later. Or earlier. She had to choose, they knew: real or fiction? They, Al and John the Mind Reader sitting around that table for now, talked about the past, the *waste* of it all. Glad to be outta that hellish hole at least for a while. Hot as rot there. They came out to talk about TILE. In a slice of time so orange that everyone had forgotten it existed. All Orange, then.

“Well,” said resigned John to his boss across from him. “It’s right there in the introduction of the manifesto, the first paragraph as it were, although I don’t tell that to the Tilist conservatives of course. ‘Let’s make this shit happen’,” he quoted.

Al uncrossed his arms and started tapping the table nervously, pondering options. 561 paragraphs, 561 words in the *first* paragraph, the one not making up the introduction. *He* was conservative too; in a way, in a manner. He didn’t really like discussing his right leaning tendencies to liberal John, though. And he blocked it from his mind as well, knowing John could dig it out if not. All Orange did the trick. Neither here nor there. A pause between destinies.

“What do you think about the ‘perhaps sentence’?” he decided to say, staring directly into the visor glasses covering his blind eyes, trying to read any emotions he could resulting in the spoken words. Rephrased (and implied): What did liberal John think about Bart and Lisa’s addendums to the manifesto? He’d save discussion about the even more controversial, more obscure Zero Hero until later. Best to deal with the 1 through 8 currently, the visible compendium.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0605, Nautilus, Wild West

lazy boys

Things have happened in the sim of Hypolazy lately. Directly south of Constance and my Constantynople. Closest hit in (my map) Oracle, *only* hit really in any category, pop place or not, is Hypoluxo Florida, an incorporated town a little south of West Palm Beach. On a whim googled Hypoluxo + synchronicity and this came up at the top of the search results list: Reddit post mentioning Randonaut, a term I hadn’t heard of before and originating in the popular app called Randonautica. First the Reddit post (note the description of the find = Void)…

https://www.reddit.com/r/randonaut_reports/comments/iafpql/randonaut_trip_report_from_hypoluxo_florida/

… then the wiki I quickly dug up about Randonautica:

https://randonauts.fandom.com/wiki/Randonauts_Wiki

RANDONAUTICA is the world’s first & only quantumly generated Create Your Own Adventure app. Randonauting is a way to turn the world around you into an adventure. Randonautica was created to send a Randonaut outside of their day-to-day routine by using a quantum random number generator to derive a coordinate to journey to.

Owl as their primary symbol, related to this odd synchronicity concerning an original contributor named Jamal who was running the Randonaut chatbot server in its early days…

https://randonauts.fandom.com/wiki/Owl_Synchronicity

Turning to the Oracle again, we have a hamlet called Owls Head NY with an alternate name of Ringville, which quickly and obviously — to me anyway — resonates with the owl ring of Twin Peaks, featured in a number of photo-novel related blog posts up to this point. Like here:

https://bakerbloch.com/2017/09/10/59694/


Twin Peaks derived owl ring as worn by character Nancy in photo-novel 05

AnyHOOT, back to Hypoluxo FL and the generated coordinates from the Reddit post. When visiting the mentioned lake through Google Earth Streetview, found this graffiti on a cinder block wall bordering it to the north. Crooked letters — KRMNL — mixed with straight — HYCTY. Blurring of letters N, Y and T here is caused by camera. Unsure if HYCTY refers to HYpoluxo the CiTY, but KRMNL obviously relates to criminal. A *crooked* criminal of otherwise *straight* Hypoluxo was responsible for this illegal act?

Besides being in Hypoluxo, the town that is, the marshy lake in question is also just south of Hypoluxo Road which starts at the east end of Hypoluxo and proceeds basically straight across Palm Beach County for almost 10 miles before ending near where the vast, central Florida swampland begins.

Curiously in googling Hypoluxo + graffiti, a defiled Dunkin’ Donuts also just off Hypolaxo Rd. came up at the top this time, which is also exactly west of the graffiti from the marsh-lake pictured above. The spray painted message here: “Dukie,” a cruder product in both name and execution, also found on a neighboring storage facility. Wanted by the police, the scoundrel. Crooked not straight indeed.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0604, Constantynople, Florida, Google Street View, Nautilus, Rank & File, Wild West

persisting (lime green teddy)

If there’s anything to this *line* she must start here, she feels. A woman named Constantyne, memorialized in the sim of Constance. Too close to be accidental, she understands (the only other Constan/ sim is Constantine, etc.). This is ground 00 — ‘nother one.

But what was this place, actually? She and her ice cream eyes longed to explore further.

—–

She found something. A man standing on the beach, as if looking for someone. For me, she thinks? She zooms in. A black man, tall, maybe 6′ 5″ or so. A guess, but she’s good at such. A man, yes, named Hill, Ruby’s psychic senses tell her beyond the ice cream eyes and lips and everything else. Hawaiian style swimming trucks. Odd goggles — lighted. The man wants to dance but can’t. Someone is stopping him from doing so. His partner cannot arrive without the balls, red and blue. But, she also senses, *both* balls are blue, one upright and one reversed. Sex, male and female. A decision must be made.

This man, wishes to be a father.

The man can grow 3 inches any time he wants to and become 6′ 8″, another Hill. Two Hills in one, then. But it means giving up the product.

The man is both blue and yellow. Think that’s it. Better get back and report.

—–

“My boys!” Mike exclaimed back in Annaberg in the sim of Newt, sitting around his mica table again, yet another ground 00 but perhaps the first. “Poison!” he shrilled. “Poison!” his mate Pat duplicated beside him. They thought this part of their story was done and over with and that they could freely and easily move to the center of Lemon Free State, good over here and bad over there, just a small fraction of its former power. Almost nonexistent. But, turns out, it may last above all the rest.

“No, don’t worry on that front,” explained Ruby to the excited couple. “He didn’t have the product. I looked all around. No lemon, no lime.”

Fruit headed Mike and Pat, being who they are, became very confused with this. Eventually they just disappeared in front of her. She had a new boss to report to. Al.

“My name is Al,” he started, “but you can just call me X. I am the founder of a new religion. Died not by the cross but the desert. Did I say that right this time? Yes. Desert. Died.”

—–

“Hello,” it said between two Tiki totems, making him turn. Ruby was wrong.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0503, Constantynople, Nautilus, Oooo, Rank & File, Wild West

mistletoe doorway (heater presents again (6578 (Xmas mugs)))

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

Bernice Raspberry, also called Ed Lively, was a 23-year old African-American man who was murdered in Leakesville, Mississippi, on May 25, 1927.[1] Raspberry was arrested for an infraction in Leakesville, but then the sheriff was told he was wanted in nearby Bothwell for “alleged improper conduct with a white woman”. Raspberry was taken to Bothwell but then taken back to Leakesville, for safe keeping. A group of some 100 masked man took him from the jail, strung him to a tree, and shot him many times.[2]

https://bakerbloch.wordpress.com/2021/12/29/00300701/

“You!!??” they cried even louder, seeing before them now the white woman associated with raspberries who loves black. “What *is* this??!!” they demanded.

—-

Returning to the scene of the crime:

“Blue and yellow are overrated, Arthur. Red and green have redeeming qualities too, despite not being quite as perfect together.”

“Like us!” Arthur Kill emitted with this, and leaned over to take a drink.

“Which one is darker, which one is lighter?” said Shelley, also partaking of her own drink. “6 and 7. Very close indeed.”

“Soo… this is about TILE?”

“No, silly. It’s about a *kiss*.”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0402, Jeogeot, Mississippi, Newtown+

yes we cancan

Uncovering this owner created “Shell of Venus” upstairs where she can, among other things, dance the cancan, I knew our lovely, unassuming Shelley Struthers had found a type of home or safe space in this old, established Second Lyfe theater for her and her boys (Edward and Arthur?). The name Flashermans sealed the deal. Here is where she can reveal herself for who she is, what she has become. Shakespear’s Silver Nuggets got nothing on her… or her adopted sisters Gloria, Anja, Mona, Betty Boop, Betty Boo, Alessandra, and Batty Casey (new one).

She points to the nearby Atoll Sea with this particular kick. Directly south, 2D meeting or mirroring 3D.

We haven’t been here in a long time. 5 years I suppose.

The former site of Omikron City, starting in Astarte.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0316, Heterocera, Lapara