And so we begin at the end, 561 steps from. Walking down, we’ve returned to the ONE but with nowhere to go but back up.
“NEXT!”
Tag Archives: BogotaC2077^*++++$
00470512
Everyone Says “Hi” 24 x 24 on panel.
A painting inspired by the David Bowie song and part of the PBJ show with Jay Jacobs, Feb 2016.
It was weird, as I was painting this I couldn’t get any of the characters to smile. Later I found out that Bowie had passed away that day.
Here is a link to the song. https://youtu.be/um05lJzXD0w
—–
Just in his own little island, Jeffrey Phillips remained happy, clutching his Philip Linden doll to his partially bare bosom and remembering his connection with another Phillip named Jeffries, his name kind of reversed or where it came from. White was his world; pure; removed of color and complexity and foldouty nature. But all around this everyone was sad and unable to smile. Jeffrey knew something had to change. The Real World must intrude on this rosy environment. Again.
“INSERT THE THORN,” a voice boomed up in the air somewhere. *sliiiidee*
Ahh: there it is, brown instead of white like all the rest. A sticking point as it were, an impasse.
—–
And just like that Shelley was banned not only from that “new” sim but the kingdom/queendom as a whole. Good to know how they feel about her. Like another Brown, Molly this time, an unsinkable force to reckon with, however. I must MAKE SPACE for her whims and fancies while remaining active in this Our Second Lyfe. But not there obviously.
So Rose Heaven is no more for me. And David Bowie remains dead.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0512, Georgia, Jeogeot, NWES Island^, Rose Heaven^^
00450310
He stands up upon the princess’ guard’s approach. “You’re up,” he says to this smiling Mr. X, just happy to be here in this time, this space. Mountaintop.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0045, 0310, collages 2d, Haze County, Oooo
00450216 (end (430 (words)))
“This would have probably been Fall 2015, or maybe even back to Spring 2015. But probably Fall 2015. Or even Winter 2015, or at least before the death of Bowie in Jan. 2016. This started several things. It, in a way, started the photo-novels themselves. Bowie *came* to Our Second Life and its Collagesity for a visit on his way to other destinations. This happened right after his death. He flirted with Baker Blinker, even propositioned her to go with him to the stars and leave Collagesity. This would have, of course, null and voided her relationship with Karoz Blogger (occurring just afterwards), so crucial not only to photo-novel 01 but all the photo-novels to come. They may *not* have come, you see.”
“I see.”
“Your double played a part in this. You synchronize further over the death of Bowie and the release of his last album, ‘Black Star’. Playing it right after Bowie’s death, you were amazed at its depth, how good the music was. You’d only known Bowie through his singles before this. Thus the can was opened to explore his oeuvre in a much more thorough way, which you did over the next several years. And your double went right along with you in a way, reliving his own appreciation of the Thin White Duke. After ‘Black Star’, you then moved to ‘The Next Day’, his previous album. As you told your double, there’s not a weak song on the album, which he agreed with. You also gave him a copy of ‘Black Star’ which he didn’t have. More synchronization. You were kind of moving as one. Or at least so you thought.”
“I thought?”
“Even at the start, you were not as synchronized as you thought at the time. You were a damaged soul by then. Your double represented a light in relative darkness, someone you connected to. You, in a way, in a strong way maybe, needed him more than he needed you. He had enough friends. Maybe he had *too* many friends, too many connections. You didn’t have enough, he had too many. And he had ambitions in the library, desired to be a major player there, which finally worked out for him by the time of your retirement in 3/1/22. The date is significant. It represents a place you separate from the double, are born *away* from him and back into your own sphere. You are on your own after that, just in terms of male friends. You thought you could continue that friendship beyond the library. But a wall was built at 3/1. (Photo-novel) 31 — remember that.”
“I will.”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0045, 0216, Nautilus, Upper Austra^
00450215 (beginning)
“So let’s start with the doppelganger, the green one.”
“Fern.”
“Welll.”
—–
“We first have to get to rhythm and pitch. Opposites. Remove pitch and you still have rhythm. Remove rhythm and you still have pitch. Keyboards (which I play) are pitch. Drums (which he plays) are rhythm.”
“Okay. Good start.”
“These are the musical differences, stark right up front. But then dig just a little deeper and you have similarities within these differences. The Kinks represented the first bonding point, before Bowie.”
“Right.”
“And we liked the same albums by The Kinks. Unlike the guy who worked for Norwegian.”
“Yes, he liked ‘Arthur’ and ‘Muswell Hillbillies.’ You liked ‘Village Green Preservation Society’ and ‘Lola Vs. Powerman’. These albums all line up 4 in a row from ’68 to ’71 (their ‘golden years’, along with ‘Face to Face’ from ’67), subtract the ’70 soundtrack ‘Percy,’ which was considered a more minor work.”
“Right. And my doppelganger also liked ‘Village’ and ‘Lola’. And he expressed difficulty getting into ‘Arthur’ without my prompting. *I* had difficulty getting into ‘Arthur.’ And as I recall we both really dug ‘Village.’ Hard to say they made a better album, although I perhaps like some of the individual songs more on ‘Lola’ than any on ‘Village.’ ‘Village’ is, in a way, a perfect rock album. Better than ‘Sgt. Pepper’s’ I would venture.”
“Yes, so that was kind of an original link. Now you must ask: why? Why the mutual attraction to The Kinks and even the same albums, unlike that dude who worked for Norwegian?”
“The guy who worked for Norwegian represented a contrast. To instead show the similarities between my doppelganger and myself, and how it could be different. We *speak* very easily.”
“Yes, so we have a foothold. Now move to Bowie (and others).”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0045, 0215, Nautilus, Upper Austra^
00440209 (down from the rooftop)
Something to do with the plane, something to do with the vine, she thought parallel to the other investigator, the one who works more during the day. This one prefers night, when the NPCs are all asleep and silent and away from their normal routines. Silent night. Like the Hispanic worker also with an interest in “Viney”. Is that the actual name for the thing? Can it *talk*? Questions like these haunt her nights more than actual sightings of oddities fer sure.
This day was different. Special indeed. 25. “What are you doing at my house?” the man who looked like Santa calmly asked but ready for action if needed. As always.
“I-investigating, sir,” she managed through the shakiness. Came right up on her without a sound! Stealthy, she quickly determined. Cat-like.
“Investigating *what*?” Still calm. He spread his arms, indicating the whole manor. “We make wine. No mysteries here.” But there was a slyness to his voice.
“Th-there’s rumors… sir… of a monster about here,” she came up with off the top of her head.
“Monster?” Eyebrows raised again in disbelief, but with that wry smile. He stood his ground, waiting for more. Nonthreatening, but Stacey (Stacey?) knew he could pounce in a flash anyway. The tiles, she realized. She could make something up about the tiles. He probably saw her shine her light on them from this distance. So she said this, connecting them with patterns. Patterns of monsters.
“Ahh, that old thing,” he seemed to dismiss. “You’re not the *only* one. And won’t be the last one. But I’m surprised you didn’t mention the flying machine that collided with the field at precisely 3 o’clock,” he said in his cunning way. “Or the other thing.”
“Flying machine?” she offered, ignoring the second for the moment. “The plane you mean?”
“Yes, I’ve heard it called that. By the others.” He rubs his chin thoughtfully, as if thinking back to prior conversations with them. “Tin can too.” He shuffles his feet, reorienting himself. “Do you know what that means?”
Tin can — airplane, she thought. But all that came to mind is that old David Bowie song about space and its own set of oddities. Which was actually correct.
“Nothing?” he asked, eyebrows raised and arms spread at once.
“Nothing,” she admitted.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0209, GTA, Witcher
00430404
After their last show together as Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars in July ’73, David Bowie (Ziggy) entrusts Spiders’ lead guitarist Mick Ronson with his guitar in a world inverted from ours through more than just colors. It has been proven that *our* Bowie knew of such worlds in music videos like “Loving the Alien” from his much maligned “Tonight” album released in the mid-80s, a time when mainstream rock music in general was going through a rough patch of banality. An inverted universe is front and center when we enter the video with a blue (opposite of skin color) Bowie praying with clinched teeth to an unlistening and perhaps unreal deity.
Then it becomes starkly obvious when Bowie sits in front of a mirror and is forced to watch it flip into this “negative” self by a restraining nun figure.
With the lyrics’ emphasis on Christianity against Islam, and organized religion vs. heathenism and nonbelievers as a whole, Bowie warns that we often get history backwards through the lens of Western Civilization, justifying mass killings in crusades ancient and new in the name of a supposed one true God — *our* God. Turn to the aliens for a higher and more correct perspective on the situation, he seems to say. Love the aliens… in ourselves.
Back to Bowie and Ronson and the handing over of the guitar, this didn’t happen in our world. The Mars Guitar was destroyed that summer night in London along with the backing Spiders band, never to be played with again. But through Jonny Silverhhand and Cyberpunk 2077, a role David Bowie was slated to play until his untimely death in 2016, alternate paths can be explored. No regrets, Bowie confronts his own reflection after the Black Star incident. The guitar plays on.
00430316
I occasionally come here to walk, almost always at night and most often in the rain when less people were around. Like tonight. As David Bowie following in the footsteps of John Lennon well knew, fame certainly comes with a price. No more anonymity, especially in my former hood.
Many things had changed since the 2 years I’d been gone. The old Hands On Car Wash behind Aunt Jen’s where I lost my cherished spool table was now the Crown Car Wash, taken over by big corp.
Fern’s old Foreign and Domestic car parts place across the street from it had been bought out by a neighboring business dealing with electronic circuits.
But Fern herself was still in the area; had herself bought a failing Crucial Fix Jamaican coffee shop nearby and turned it into a self named cafe, no possessive form this time. Just plain Fern — actually The Fern as I’m thinking of it. Drove by it during the day already…
… but try as I might, I couldn’t find it now in the dark and the driving rain.
Once found, I planned to spend time there with the smartest person I knew, black white or any other color. Except maybe for Stinch’s uncle’s cousin up in Grapeshot who could sell bacon to a policeman, ha. Fern’s a mentor for sure.
10:43. Better get back to the “mansion” and pick which of my 7 king size beds I’m going to sleep in tonight and pick one of those Red books to fall asleep by. Author a guy with Mars in his name — go figure. J. Marston. Could be John, could be Jack. But probably Jack, the son. I’m on chapter 4 now: ‘How to Deliver a Foal’. Fascinating reading; getting sleepy just thinking about it. Here’s my turn.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0043, 0316, GTA, RDR2
00430315
She came out of the dispensary beside the quick fix ganja vending machine V sipping chamomile tea and staring at the Black Star on its side and wondering how long Bowie had been dead. At least 8 years, she reckoned, maybe 8 1/2, the length of Fellini’s career up to the movie of that same title.
Her attention then shifted to the crime scene in the plaza slightly below her from this vantage point at the top of the cement steps, the heart of her po’ faux Nightsity, one of a handful I’ve found in Our Second Lyfe in the past month and a 1/2 or so. Another Blue Moon Kentucky killer victim, she gathered, 3rd this month of May’s June soon to slide into July. Should’ve shut down that so-called secret strip club behind the *sometimes* locked door weeks ago because of them, she thinks. Now another lies fallen.
Chef-inspector Petty studies the body outline and blood splatter volume and directions with rookie Dirk Bejirk, uselessly drawing a gun on the now vacant crime scene with no perpetrators in sight. Petty’s on loan from Aisle of Palms where absolutely nothing has happened since the end of the last photo-novel 2 months ago, not at the Perch restaurant in the Blue Feather complex during the day (chef 1/2 of his life), nor at the investigative agency in Cement Village at night (inspector 1/2 of his life). He’d even managed to get a proper amount of rest lately because he could now sleep on the job — both jobs — and get away with it. No more. Perch manager Percy Bidercy had to lay him off because of the lack of paying customers. The clients at the agency were also basically nonexistent. Put all this together and we have the current scene: Petty working in a different spot.
“It’s that strip club,” offered gun toting Dirk, still pointing at air. “City council should’ve shut it down weeks ago.”
“It’s not the strip club,” said Petty, defying common opinion. He gobbled another goober (peanut), trying to clear his mind of distractions. “Dirk, why don’t you go pick us up some food at that Chinese restaurant we passed on the way here. Bucket of Egg Foo Young for me. And a large Cokey Cola.”
“Shouldn’t drink sugary drinks, new boss.”
“Shut up and do the only thing you’re good for at this job. *Fetching*.” Petty kind of hated being so harsh to the rookie but tough love goes a long way. He’d know. Sgt. Petterson busted his balls enough in his early police/detective days to make them turn blue at times. Which, actually, also pertains to the current crime.
“3 Blue Moon crimes in the last several weeks,” he spoke to no one since a put-in-his-place Dirk had gone to fetch their food and drinks. He arrived on the scene for the first victim. He was just glad to get the job, glad of the income finally flowing into his bank account once more. Only after the 2nd did he start to get interested in the case itself, start to dig deeper into the facts. Then the 3rd here really took the cake. Fern arrived in “town”, also from a different dimension. Gave him information he couldn’t believe. We’re living in a simulation; none of this is real!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0043, 0315, Big Woods, C2077, GTA, Hana Lei^^, Jeogeot, Nightsity
00430314 (hand of Tin)
I opened up the blinds to a world I never got to experience. They didn’t promise me a window in my apartment — I do remember that aspect. Food, books, art, even a woman. But not a window. It meant something to me, something deep. There was a definite backrooms vibe out there with its colorful tubes and slide-like objects. I was told this is like Japan. I couldn’t wait to get out there… and explore.
But first I had to check out more of the apartment. Food, books, art, just like the other one, the one from the *lesser* world. But not a woman — sole drawback so far that I could determine in this much more realistic one. Then in looking at a particular object I’ll get to in a moment, an image of a person named Han swam before my eyes. Lover. Left her behind when I went, yes, on tour. I was a musician in this life as well — it was all kind of flooding back on me; too much so maybe. Band named Sunami, without the T. I think. Right, without it. And maybe another letter added in in its place. Sunamai? I picked up a handily placed guitar in the apartment, sat down on a nearby ottoman and automatically started to strum a song strange but familiar about a talking horse and saying goodbye to it. I remembered more about her through the heavy metal-ish music. 1/2 Japanese, although you couldn’t tell it. She didn’t like me leaving. She did — *ohh*.”
I look down at my silver hand and arm, doing the strumming in this case. She did *this*. Maybe not literally, I realized, but metaphorically anyway. Heck, maybe literally too — couldn’t remember the details; perhaps too painful. She was trying to snatch away my livelihood if not my life.
I had to do one more thing before leaving. I went back to the bathroom, looked up from the sink.
No it was nothing like the face I had in my former existence, just left through the Black Star. But still it was recognizable from that world. Ahh, another ohh moment. The Matrix!
Sunklands 