Tag Archives: CASHMERE

July 19, 2025 · 7:31 am

00470408

She turns away from it and looks down into the Ratskeller. One of the Eighty-eights and town manager Rag Doll, also known as Evelyn Hart, are waiting. Dare she go sit with them? She could still run away. They seem to have not spotted her yet at the top of the stairs. But she’d been studying that painting with cashmere robed Shelley for a while. They could have looked up here when she didn’t notice. Can’t take a chance, she realized. That’s how town rumors and gossip get started. And she’d had enough of that already in this place full of time and space.

But it wasn’t just one of the Eighty-eights down there. It was 2 of them, Eight and Eighty together. She’d imagined seeing Rag Doll aka Evelyn Hart all along, all this time while both glancing down there and simultaneously studying De Boy’s painting up here with Shelley. What gives?

—–

“I’m here to see the manager,” he said to Sue Anne the counter attendant of the moment. She waves her arm in the direction of the only other person in the diner while saying, “How about the owner?”

Promotion, ahh. Rag Doll aka Evelyn Hart was not in the same position Alessandra (= white-clad Wheeler) assumed she would be in this town of New.

She dug right into him. “You were suppose to turn right at the can. What *happened*?”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0408, Blue Mountain, County Park, Haze County, Jeogeot, Newtown+

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July 18, 2025 · 5:38 pm

00470407 (Mine, man)

She’d finished her shooting. She’d put back on her finest cashmere robe. This was the result, proudly hung in the hallway leading down to Newtown’s Ratskeller. Barry De Boy’s self proclaimed magnum opus “Toy Play Thing Mine”, part of his “Does This Look Square to You?” series, being exactly 814 x 814 pixels in resolution. And directly kin in this series to the similarly square foldup of the “Foxtrot” album cover by Genesis from ’73 we’ve just seen back in post 01 of this section, also associated with Shelley and the request by new SC librarian Miss Ouri for her to come out from under the lamp and “get big” before them, which she refused to do as was appropriate and logical and decent. ’73: a good year for progressive rock albums indeed. Magical. Spread out centerfold in that case here:

The corresponding folded out version of “Toy Play Thing Mine” has been lost to time, which is in all likelihood for the best as well. But we do have this from “Foxtrot” again, specifically the long and epic “Supper’s Ready” track from side 2, as a kind of indication to what is going on. Green-Gray perpetual war results here again…

We now know that that “Foxtrot” described location of a plateau full of green grass and green trees with Narcissus gazing lovingly at his reflection circles back to this:

And its slowly but surely increasing number of *toys*.

Careful with it. Carefull. Very precious it is. And perhaps fragile. One long gust of wind from the real world all around could eradicate the magic and the spell. Make sure the colors are out of sight as best as possible, white here included. Hide the growing toy avatar village of Flathardt on the edge of this green plateau well. Do not put stuff like blue roses more toward the makeshift path than runs through it all as a possible tipoff to its presence. This is enough of a blue rose case already without such a physical marking. Flatness like this at the head of a hill does not occur naturally. Keep that always in mind during visits and updates.

Now if only the daily mountain rains would stop, UUGH.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0407, Bogota, collages 2d, Flathardt, Haze County, Jeogeot, Newtown+, Toy Avatars, Willow Hill

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June 5, 2025 · 7:53 pm

00470201 (explorers)

“We can’t go back to Holland again?” he questions, staring at the newest image on the screen.

“Oh Eddy, we can’t even get to the top of Mt. Sandraman without being distracted, much less another place in another world. Be here in the here and now. Be Free.”

“Let’s go!” he urged. But he stood still.

—–

“Oh look, the image is changing into something else we know. Wallytown. On (nearby) Fishers Island. Remember?”

“Of course I remember,” responded Shelley, still standing behind him in her finest cashmere bathrobe, still waiting on a decision. Where to go, where to go? Somewhere away from *here*. Or at least go to that hill that likes to call itself a mountain *within* here, pheh. She tires of being chained as an object. 6 6 6 is over. It’s now 7. Freedom.

But they stood still.

—–

Too late, Eddy. Too late. The dream Spider has arrived.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0201, Europe, Holland, New Island, Wallytown/Fishers Island

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November 28, 2023 · 10:58 am

00410205

He was dozing in the office per usual when the phone jarred him from his dream about hot tubs. Wanda? he thinks about the girl there. Who’s Wanda? He cuts off the rings by answering, assuming it was a wrong number. 5:30 in the morning. Who would be calling him now?

A dame named Wanda, that’s who. Or so she said. Probably the psychic police again, he thinks, hounding me until the end.

“Sykes,” she said about a last name when he asked her, poised for retribution.

“Is that with an i… or a y?”

“W-why (nervous laugh)… do you ask?”

“Because I was just dreaming about a dame named Wanda,” private dick Wendell “Biff” Carter admitted but cockily, “and I wanted to know how to spell her last name for the next time we meet up.”

“How odd,” the woman also claiming to be Wanda said on the other side of the line in a tone that Carter identified as sincerely surprised. Maybe not the psychic police after all, he pondered. Maybe one of those what you call *synchronicities*. He tested further. He realized she seemed to be talking to someone with the receiver’s mouthpiece covered. The detective was good at detecting that — had to be to survive, he said to himself as he honed his craft by trying out one muffled voice after another with his girl Friday secretary Berta. What kind of cloth or hanky or whatever was used for the muffling? Could be important. In this case he was thinking: cashmere. Slight bit of scratching against the receiver (wool) coupled with a Cape Cod accent. Rich dame, he surmised. He needed money. He’ll overlook the oddities to proceed forward.

“What can I do you for?” He tried to wake up as much as possible to absorb the stream of information he assumed was coming his way.

“I *was* looking… for a mirror.” That was it. Mirror. The dream, he knew. She found it. Click went the receiver. Took a long time to return to sleep after that. Wanda in reality, he thought, glancing over at the phone again. Wanda in the dream. Maybe if I return to the same dream I can get more info from the dame who lives, ahem, *inside*. He leaned back, hands behind his head just like we started with. “Wanda Wanda Wanda,” he muttered as Newton slid back into Jasper. “Wanda Wanda (snore) Wanda…”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0205, Cass City+, Maebaleia/Satori

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September 11, 2022 · 8:11 am

progression

Let’s see, I have to fit the Duck back in here somewhere.

—–

“Yes, put on a robe, stay a while,” said Pauline Silentghost by her side, still assuming the pose of a master (channeler). “How’s your knee doing?”

“Fine,” Wheeler said, taking all the shifts in stride per usual. She doesn’t remember changing into the purple-ish robe but here we are. In… Sansara? Yes, but a special part, she realized. An artsy fartsy sub-continent to the immediate east and south. It’s a place she doesn’t think she’s ever been before until now. Thanks to Scroop, or Scrougeout as they call the Nautilus sim in these here parts. So says Pauline. The Oracle rules all in this out of the way, edge of the world type of location. Perhaps it’s just the distance from everything else that makes it so.

“You know who has to show up next.” Stares.

“Do I?” Wheeler tired of meeting the gaze and looked down at her robe, examining the texture. The finest cloth, she saw (and felt), perhaps cashmere. When she looked up: this.

“So who’s this fresh piece of hell?” she queried, but then knew the answer, which instantly became another question. “Daughter?”

It was Shelley Struthers with a, er, Scrougeout t-shirt, another duck.

“She is the owner of the castle,” replied Pauline, wiser than ever. Rust Never Sleeps becoming Roost Never Sleeps again. She turns. “Aren’t you dearest?”

“My name is Shelley,” she spoke plainly.

“Yes, we know your name,” replied robed Wheeler sitting across from her. She stared into umbrella eyes.

“My husband is George. We own the castle. Together.”

Shelley was much too young to be married. This was a future vision obviously, Wheeler realized. “Timeline, please,” she requested as politely as possible. “You’re a *child*.”

“I am *your* child.” Stares again all around. Awkwardness. Wheeler suspected she had a daughter for several years now, perhaps many years. The spaceship.

—–

“I’m telling you, Newt. She’s *real*.” He’d suspected as well. Black and white, male and female, on and off. Clone? Possibility.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0508, AF Subcontinent, Sansara

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December 1, 2018 · 9:15 am

Chili

“So, like tell me about the building behind me, then,” requested Hitgal, eager for more Gaston-Berry history.

“Owned by the eye guy. *Formerly* owned. Split with the Berries, he and his cat. All bones.”

Hitgal shivers. Let’s go back inside and talk more. Getting colds out here.

—–

“Yeah, I’m gonna rent this poolside apartment starting next week, mind you. Just waiting for the check to come in. John Bob Denver and all. Did a real good job for him.” But that was a job both Domino Wendell Cashmere and Hitgal Dryden Douglas knew they shouldn’t talk about. Fusion.

“That would be chill’n,” responds Hitgal, looking around. “Your 78 inch plasma would fits nicely against that wall over there. We could watch the Atlanta Hawks’ games. Just like old times.”

“Well, unfortunately this is a Brazilian themed sim, see, so probably more soccer on than anything. Notice that soccer ball perpetually bobbing around the pool? That sort of thing.”

“I didn’t see it,” admitted usually observant Hitgal. “In the waters itself?”

“Sure,” replied Domino, then let it drop. He looked down at the table and the open magazine there.

“You thinking about getting a new face, Hitgal? Because: don’t do it. I like you the way you are.” He leans over for a kiss, but Hitgal waves him off, moves toward the wall that might soon provide much soccer entertainment, looks out the window.

*There’s* the soccer ball, she observed. Just like he said, hmm. She wondered if someone was editing her worldview again. Like before, in the Dark Days. She’ll have to look at her old journals to review. Things *hidden* from view. Like the Brazilian flags. Brazilian sports — flags. What else?

—–

Later, Hitgal revealed part of her planned new look. “I’m still working on the color scheme. But… what’s you think?”

Domino doesn’t answer immediately, prompting defensive Hitgal to say: “Mind *you,* Domino, this is *just* the start, hrmph.”

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