Tag Archives: Blue Berry Girl^^+$&

triad

“I’m glad we switched places so that my blue side is showing,” spoke Vain and Artery Boy, our Gill Alex, over to lover and perhaps brother (from another mother) Rock Ramby, formerly of Chaucey. Always vain, this tri-colored avatar is, wanting to show his best side to the outside world, the camera, the 4th wall which both knew was always there when they appeared in these here photo-novels. Self-awareness of sorts, if only in a narcissistic way. “I’m sorry,” Vain and Artery Boy continued, “if that particular side reminds you of my old lover, the Blue Berry Girl we’ve been talking about so much recently. I wish her well,” he spoke huskily, adapting to the ocean air at last, “but it’s over, done, kaput. We will probably never speak to each other again.”

Rock took it all in. He knew they were here to look for a knob, and not necessarily his, although it does involve rocks, as in a Rocky knob. Just over there somewhere in Big Sandy, just out of sight from their perspective on the starboard side of the USS Galaxy, draw distance extended to the max while they were sitting here and not experiencing any lag through movement. If only they had Mrs. Ordinary’s pricey, fancy schmancy long seeing eyes it might be spotted. Still… soon enough. Mrs. Ordinary was a friend and she lived right below it. Vain and Artery Boy just had to ditch Blue Berry Girl, probably crying her own eyes out in her room somewhere across from them, he imagined. But in actuality, she was quite relieved of the unburdening. She’d met someone else too, a new person and not an old love in his case. Chaucey (there’s that name again). Also known as Bill Ups I believe. I’ll check asap.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0111, Bellisaria, Sandfly

it all ends here (goodbye!)

She’d been here once before and didn’t quite manage to enjoy all of it, I knew, so I bought her a golden ticket again because she got me over the finish line. The Last Boss, now without encasing giant blueberry. Good for her! She’s tempered the critical tongue that I didn’t see but others have now told me about. We all have flaws. Thing is, we must see ourselves in others in order to advance; understand we created all these situations jointly. She seems to represent All Bosses. Let’s look in at what she’s doing now…

Reading this blog and attached photo-novel (!). Let’s see what she’s doing now.

Same thing!

Let’s look in at what she’s doing now.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0110, Bellisaria, Sandfly

00390615

And so we end with a waterfall which turns into a new river, replacing the old. Clean to filthy. Clear to chocolate. The overarching sim of River has been redeemed and revitalized from the top (4000m) down. In other words, the Void has spoken.

“Hey,” says Tronesisia to her quickly drying robot companions, prying her vision away from surfboarding Bart on the falls — couldn’t pass up the opportunity. “Check out the little clockwork people coming out of the building over there. Wonder if they have anything to do with this?

“Let’s go over and make friends.”

“Oh boy,” says my hot ass computer, ha, supporting 4 avatars in 4 separate windows at once.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0615, River

additional River scenes

“Are you going to light a candle for him, Archie?”

“Nah I’m just checking out his junk.”

“Awesome. Soo. Do you not like Freddie Mercury or something?”

“Of course, dude. The guy that wrote ‘Stairway to Heaven’!”

“Ummm.”

—–

“I’ve let you down, Robert. I’ve become a big fat blueberry again.”

Robert looked over, didn’t see a blueberry girl. He saw himself. In another for a change. “I… forgive?”

“No this can’t be forgiven what I’ve done,” she insisted. “I want you to just go ahead and puncture me. Stab me with your stabby thing. Just get it over with. I need to be dejuiced.”

Again, Robert didn’t see anything to “dejuice”. Just a woman, lonely, bad self image, needing a change, trapped in a job with, overall, negative energy pervading. Kind of like…

“I’ll remember your smile,” he said, again surprising himself with his empathy. “You were, an ordinary person to me at the time. No crazy. I was tired of crazy, see. The looks in the eyes.”

“I read from your collection,” she said, wiping her eyes of tears, wiping her nose a bit, shoving back the black hair from the blue-purple face. She was tired of her hair. She was going to get it cut, maybe dyed again. She wanted to be someone different. “I read about… me.”

—–

“I know who you are. Just go ahead and do it. Change. Admit the similarity.”

“Cold in here,” she tries to deflect, then gives up. “Oh, o-*kay*.”

—–

“Where did *this* come from??”

“Relax Bulby,” assured calm Tronesisia to the left. “We’re waterproof.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0614, River

00390611

They came out of it but they were a mess; all mixed up. She had the body of Shelley still, true, but the clothes and hair of Marsha plus, on top of this, the gestures — well, gesture (*gasp*) of Tammy, formerly Frankie.

She erased the gasp by lowering her littler hand from her mouth. Slowly Sloowly. Don’t want to break anything this soon. She was in a different place, a different land. She looked back on where she came from.

The little devil in front of her approached, offering some grody looking soup. “Patriot soup,” he said in a muffled kid’s voice, like he was wearing a costume instead of being an actual demon. “Straight from Wonderland.” He came ever closer, soup extended a bit more. He was right up on her.

“Oh why the heck not,” she said, and took the bowl and sipped.

—–

When she lowered it from her mouth, the bowl was suddenly a couple of feet more above the floor than when she started the sip. The body of Shelley remained, she realized, but it was the big body, the grown up one. Marsha still ruled in the clothes department. And the hair. And maybe the eyes — she wasn’t quite sure yet without a mirror; she couldn’t tell just by “feel”. And Tammy/Frankie was still somewhere within, a guiding conscience perhaps. “You must choose,” she thought she heard it say to herself, whoever *she* is. Shelley? Marsha? Tammy, even? The little devil who had retreated back upon the newest transformation eyed her keenly, cocking his head a bit and taking it all in. “You have… boyys.” He’d seen them before. Blue Berry Girl.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0611, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File

original Robert

“Black Ice and Marwood, huh?” he spoke from the illegal 7th to fellow pew sitter Blue Berry Girl after everyone had left. Neither had been seen in these here photo-novels in a while. “Blue and yellow blue and yellow blue and yellow,” she rattled in return. They knew they had to do it to save NWES City as a whole. It was a start anyway, the *conception* of the thing. “Kiss not kill,” she had requested earlier, fairy wings fluttering in anticipation. She’d lost some weight, maybe enough for it to work, magnetic attraction and all. She’d overlook his lopsided legs and arms in turn, the blue and red split, and focus on blonde — yellow again. The uniter of the hemispheres. If this didn’t work then: maybe the spherical blue berry torso would return and everything would go to rot, town lost. Jesus use to save. Now it’s up to them.

“Your place or mine?” he finally relented, imagining in his head what would turn out to be reality a little later. It seemed good it seemed right. “Right here,” she said in turn. “Split the difference.”

“Okay.” And they got to it.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0311, Black Ice, Jeogeot, Marwood, Neptune, NWES Island^

Cheeks

“If you are red you rise up to meet blue in pink. If you are blue you rise up to meet red in pink. Peaks are where things do a flippy floppy. And in this case one is larger and one is smaller. Crazy Blue.”

“I’m going to wear my Crazy Blue outfit for the rest of this photo-novel, Baker. Just for a meditative device.”

“Then we won’t be seeing much of you beyond these points.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0503, Nautilus, NORTH, Upper Austra^

00370502

Not too awfully long ago it was the other way ’round.
filed under: Which one’s pink?, Blue Mtn., One Pink Mtn./Pink Mtn./Pink, flippy floppy stuff

https://www.britannica.com/story/has-pink-always-been-a-girly-color?fbclid=IwAR2dDM-tb-P6QmvsioHs25uHjHJbSxy40fpJBBy4qQII4mCIN_0UFgRTI-M

At the beginning of the 20th century, some stores began suggesting “sex-appropriate” colors. In 1918 the trade publication Earnshaw’s Infants’ Department claimed the “generally accepted rule is pink for the boys, and blue for the girls. The reason is that pink, being a more decided and stronger color, is more suitable for the boy, while blue, which is more delicate and dainty, is prettier for the girl.” Additionally, a 1927 issue of Time noted that large-scale department stores in Boston, Chicago, and New York suggested pink for boys.

—–

“Let’s talk about your plug, Ruby.”

“Ruby?” she said.

“Just go with the flow.”

“Well… it covers up an anatomy flaw. Between 2 Cheeks.”

“Good enough. Now… let’s talk about the pink skin.”

“Pink?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0502, Blue Mountain, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, North Carolina, Red Hill, Wild West

Silent (Center of Universe)

She didn’t know how she got here. She remembers being nude on an island and being rescued. The rescuer had said she’d gone “native” and that it was a good thing he stumbled upon her because she was almost sunburned to death. She said to him she thought she was on Mars, on the only pocket of water on the planet, but just big enough that she couldn’t see the edge from her position on an island within. She saw other islands as well, which to the rescuer she described as planets. He pointed out that didn’t make any sense, and that they were in an ocean, the North Sea of Nautilus to be specific, and that he had found her rocket ship surrounded by those dratted featherfloaters just in the bay over there and was looking for survivors. It was only here she remembered the ship, the trip, the interplanetary training she had worked so hard at (so hip). She must have got her head knocked upon landing/crashing. That would explain the the lump-sized bump and some other stuff — the nudity obviously, but also the shower. It never rained on her island, yet she kept exclaiming to the rescuer, the “water’s on,” followed by, “I better go turn it off.” She went off to find a shower to turn off but never did. “How long had *that* been going on?” the rescuer asked, getting more alarmed by the minute. He had found a towel to offer her from a nearby camping spot but she refused it, saying she was still in the shower and that if she put clothes on that they would just get wet and she’d have to put them in the dryer and she didn’t have a dryer on this infernal island in the pocket of water on the surface of Mars. He kept scratching his head.

The rescuer left (the scene). She wasn’t sure when, or why. Maybe she killed him, she ruminated now, with senses returned. I *was* hungry. Would I do such a thing? Perhaps he mentioned the shower one too many times.

She remembers Carrcassonnee. Big C, as she called her, was on the island as well, but in spirit form. Mainly. An Olive head appeared once with a Big I within it, poking out a little bit, even, on one side. Disabled Astronaut AB pointed out the flaw. Carrcassonnee never returned in true form but she remained an advisor in the wind, the dust, the water, the sand. She could appear in a tree, a clump of grass, a stump. She came as a burning bush, saying that Astronaut AB had to make a choice and there was a Queen and a King to answer to over in a place called Corton, described by Big C as a similar island to this. AB logically asked if they were still Mars. Big C always affirmed that AB was on Mars, even though the rescuer had clearly denied this reality. “Yes, it was good I killed him,” she decided, a wry smile appearing on her lips.

—–

“Spread them apart,” commanded one resident to another, separating Duck from Glen. “Wider, wider!” But even as far apart as they got they were still in the same county and that was the trick. The Queen and King retired happy.


“Don’t talk to her, dearest. She’ll come around eventually.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0025, 0605, Hana Lei^^, Nautilus, Rim Isles, West Virginia

00250602

Sometimes you can’t help yourself. You have to take a snapshot.

Flash! The world is gone, then reappears. Blue Berry Girl sits on a rock, trying to figure it out. “Norris. Be *quiet*,” she demands. But Norris had said nothing in fact, not being alive in any way except through remote animation. She takes him everywhere. We could call him a constant sounding board. “Norris. Stop picking at your nose!” That kind of thing.

Flash! The brightness then dies down from the last pocket of virtual reality. A pond with real seeming rocks lining it. They sit down again, tired from the 50 meter walk, or Blueberry Girl imagines Norris is tired. Looking down, she then wonders when and why she painted her fingers (and toes) such odd colors.

“Norris. Stop *humming*.” Blueberry Girl imagined her constant companion was humming a Schuman, perhaps the one with the red eye (hopefully).  But then Norris stops and doesn’t start again.

“What *are* these rocks?” Blueberry Girl asks. “They seem… *different*!”

Norris had an independent thought for a change. *I* rock! he realizes. He is alive, resurrected even.

“Scratch scratch scratch!” went the seagull down at the rocks like a demented violin, trying to tell them the truth but being unable to communicate effectively being a simple bird and all. He has plans to change himself.

—–

“Another dream, Charlene. I was a dummy.”

“Aww,” she says with fake pout. “I’m sooo sorry.” She rubs his arm. She hands him his red tie, which he must put on first thing even to get out of bed.

“I saw rocks. I woke up. I was a violin. I was a seagull.”

“There there, now now.” She was rubbing the other arm now. She was patient. Jeffrey Phillips was doing right by her these days. Collagesity was not that bad. Once you get use to the crime and the background shooting and looting. As long as you’re in bed, say, by 7, and wear your noise cancelling headphones to go to sleep: you’re okay. April Mae Flowers was still in custody. There has to be more criminals, especially given the 5 sets of fingerprince and, well, the continuing crime, only slightly abated much to Jeffrey’s chagrin. He returned to continuing chaos. The paperwork containing the police reports among other things piles up. He works through it one day at a time, inch by inch, foot by foot. Then he comes across this.

—–

“The sun is hot today Norris,” she says, looking up from her hands into the cooler trees, trying to spot the seagull that had flown away from the toasty rocks down at the shoreline. But in vain: the demented violin sings no more.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0025, 0602, Collagesity Fordham, Corsica, Lower Austra^, Nautilus