Tag Archives: Cathy “Love Peace” Hippie Child^^

loss 03

“I watched her and Linda Halsey dance and dance around the sacred circle, waiting for a pause where I could insert my question, which was: What is the future of Collagesity in Urqhart? I needed to hear it from Golden Josephine or Rhiannon or whatever her name was currently. And Linda Halsey — still Linda Halsey, and not Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child. Another “bad” sign. The Tower card turned up when she appeared at the table a couple of weeks ago, taking CLPHC’s place there. CLPHC equals Collagesity intact and remaining in the area. Linda Halsey equals the opposite. Destruction; derezzing. There was actually no use in hanging around. Observing Baker Bloch knew this as a fact. There was no need for a clarifying card. But Baker forced the issues anyway.

“Hey!’ he called to the two dancing fools for girls. “A little help here!” So rude. Not very characteristic of Baker Bloch either. More a trait of, say, Roger Pine Ridge.

Golden Josephine didn’t stop prancing. Neither did Linda Halsey. But after a moment, Golden called over her shoulder: “Whadda you want?” The music was intoxicating to them, and probably to Baker in a different way. It was a combination of Roger’s “On the Run” and Judy’s “Over the Rainbow”, twirling in and out of each other like the two dancers here themselves. Must be a match.

“A clarification card!” shouted Baker over the music. Or an attempt to. There was barely a hole to find in the combo, so dense it was. Like two people sitting in the same chair. The music and dance went on and on. Finally Golden Josephine broke free. Linda kept doing what she does now. But the figure was different: Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child.

Baker points as Golden Josephine approached. “What gives?” he asked about the transformation of the now lone dancer.

“Let’s look  at that card and maybe we can tell.”

—–

But something else then came up. The *real* Rhiannon made an appearance, replacing the fake, golden one. She seemed to be in tune with magical juxtapositions as well. She was also thinking of giving up her land adjacent (or thereabouts) to my Collagesity. She told me about the runes on a mushroom near me. I asked her if I should just have the question in mind and then touch “spread”. I knew little about runes. She affirmed this. I chose past/present/future. I had in mind this was the past/present/future of Collagesity itself. I didn’t want to just ask if I should give up Collagesity in Urqhart (or thereabouts). My desire was to broaden the picture a bit.

“What do you think?” I asked over. She was multitasking like myself. I was, of course, creating this blog post. She was working on her fairy forest.

Then she was gone, wishing me luck on my choices before leaving. “But…” I cried into the void now, “I don’t know what it means!”

Maybe it means nothing — and it does for me, in this moment. I didn’t need clarification. The meeting with the actual Rhiannon told me everything I need to know. Thank you.

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Multicolor

“A new town has arisen beyond the revolving tire, Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child. We must attempt to match its energy!”

“Sounds *great*!” the chipper hippie girl said, eyeing the namesake tower from her vantage point while following Rhiannon to the table with the magic cards. But she said to call her Golden.

—–

“Tsk tsk tsk. Oh dear. We better hurry.”

“Oh I feel *awful* again, Rhiannon.” Golden let the name slip go, given what just happened.

“Let’s start with a single.” She turned the just dealt card up.

—–

She sat in the middle of 4 and realized this was matching the energy.

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Dallows

“What do you *mean* there’s no town over there, Wheeler?? There’s *got* to be a town over there. Or else I’m not *here*.” Baker Bloch was incredulous. He was *so* looking forward to playing the brand new role of bloodied werewolf Ditch Parkly, like Pitch Darkly but different.

“*Well*,” spoke over posing Wheeler, currently trying on different outfits for a new role herself, “there’s a new town sprouting where the old one was. Totally unrelated to the old one it seems. But it’s not finished at all. Maybe half built at best.” She reviews what she saw of it in her mind, and decides to amend. “Make that probably closer to 1/4th built.”

“Dang,” Baker shifts his heavy weight in his rocker. “Dag gonnit,” he cursingly doubles down on his frustration while softly pounding an armrest.

“Why don’t we hike those peaks over there so we can get a better look.” She glances over her shoulder out the window for Baker at the two summits juxtaposed with each other from her angle. Eclipsed, even, with just a whiff of the top of the second, more distant one peeking out from the first.

“Nah, I’m just going to give up on the Southwest right now,” he decides spur of the moment. “All the signs are here. We’re *both* blocked from that castle on the BoShek peak for some reason, along with Axis. What did we *do* up there that was *so* wrong?”

“Maybe just show up. We could send others from the core in,” Wheeler then suggested during another wardrobe change.

“Yeah — guess so.” His mind goes back to all the rest: Baker Blinker (recently taking on a new role herself in Jack Blue!), Karoz Blogger, Roger Pine Ridge, so on. Yeah, that could work. But *here*. Baker Bloch changes his mind about going to the peaks to view the emerging burg.

—–

“Still can’t see enough from this green peak, Wheeler. We’ll have to advance to the next one, the granite topped summit.” He makes a mental note to write down in his journal later: “Granite over green. The story of the continent itself.”

About 2/3rds the way up the much higher of the summits, Wheeler’s energy ran low enough that she had to switch back to her base outfit, her true or core self. Baker Bloch once again thinks this may be the exact spot to kill off the still dangerous Wheeler. With his own, bloodied hands he could do it. Watch the expression of her dying. But Axis would kill him in turn, he knew. He was playing chess on a three-dimensional board and he hardly knew what was up and down at any one moment. What is a peak, what is a sink? He actually liked hiking up a steep mountain like this. Gave him some solid direction.

“Come on, Wheeler,” he urged, letting the violent impulse pass, probably a byproduct of his current shape. “You’re falling behind again.”

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section 02 04

“The peaks giveth and the peaks taketh away,” recites golden being Rhiannon after the transformation of Linda Halsey back to Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child on the Urqhart Hill behind them, topped with circling rocks. “You always serve them now, just like you did before. Now use your transformation wisely my child. My Love Peace Hippie Child.” She smiled over at the standing, barefoot woman from her log, a kind gesture but with slight overtones of sinister. Rhiannon knew there was a good chance this would not turn out well — again.

Cathy L.P.H.C. glanced back at the hill where it all happened.

Later that night, a special tree came over to Urqhart to see what all the commotion over here was about. Ball parks? Out in the middle of nowhere? He/she had to see for him/herself!

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back in Urq…

I was going to create a post about figures found near Urqhart, specifically two elephants in opposite corners of a house. But news just broke in Urqhart itself. Urqhart Hill, featured in the Marty-Arthur Kill interaction post from a few nights back, has been bought and paganized! The new owner: a Rhiannon, obviously a nod to Stevie Nick’s song “Rhiannon” in some form, and the Welsh legend behind it of the goddess who fell in love with a mortal and paid the price. Also I’ll remind readers that Barry X. Vampire’s subsequently murdered girlfriend Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child sat her ass on this very hill’s grass as Marty observed her from his house just below. The house still stands despite everything being a bit up in the air at the time. And that observation tower has been added. Let’s zoom in on the modified hill. A memorial? We go deeper…

—–

And here are those elephants in the neighboring Annelie sim just to finish:

Corsica (continent) is an elephant. More soon!

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Mouse

He didn’t know where he was. The approaching, grey ghost didn’t help. “You killed me Arthur Kill,” she moaned. Oh — *her*, he thought while watching the spectre waver back and forth, then retreat again. The *freshest* one. This sometimes happens. He must be dreaming…

Earlier:

Big Black Smoke couldn’t resist. The door was open with no one home currently — he’d checked all the windows.  The bed beckoned; he’d deal with the consequences later. That’s how the man known *locally* as Big Black Smoke met his end at the terminus of a Dead End Street in Urqhart. Or right next to it.

—–

Hmmm, pondered Arthur Kill, readying for another. A black man like me. Oh well. Duty calls. He enters.

—–

Later, while staring at the rotating tire outside that Arthur Kill buried Big Black Smoke under, a tiny rap at the door. It was Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child, longing for another bed down with new love lust and wannabe novelist Barry X. Vampire, who would escape all this mess and slaughter as fate deemed it. Onward and upward into new peaks to the south west, he wisely decided earlier that day.

—–

*POP* (another one)

—–

Dawn was breaking in Arthur Kill’s dream, driving the ghosts away. But he was in the middle of novel 19, with no story there yet possible. Since this is sort of toward the middle of 18. Or a little beyond. Urqhart.

—–

“That was a short one, Hucka Doobie,” spoke Baker Bloch while staring down at the freshly inserted pin on the Big Map.

“Not over yet,” advised the wise bee-ing just out of sight to the west and/or south.

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grass ass

Aptly named Arthur Kill, just off some fresh kills in Staten Island, decided to hop the ferry over to virtual reality and Lindenwold to see if old boss Marty had any new assignments.

“Sorry everything is a little up in the air at this moment, Arthur,” he apologized about the levitating objects in the yard.

“You moving?” Arthur gruffed.

“Dunno… maybe.”

Arthur Kill stands up, preparing to teleport back to New York City. He doesn’t like to kill time unnecessarily, unlike most things. “Let me know if you do,” he declared without emotion.

“Wait.” Marty was glad of the rare appearance of his former chief assassin and decided to cook up something on the spot. “There’s a, er, *Mouse*. At the end of a Dead End Street. Big Black Smoke. That’s all I got.” Mouse was code for Rat.

“Local?”

Marty looked out at the landscape here, as he had been doing when Arthur abruptly showed up out of thin air. Urqhart Hill, he thought, staring straight ahead. That girl at the top. She’s been there for hours. He can’t stop looking at her. What’s she doing, what’s she up to? Smoking weed? Marty would like some weed. If she stays there very much longer, he’s going to assume she’s using drugs and just walk up to her and ask for some. Not the hard stuff (like before). Just weed this time. She looks the type, yes. A grass chick — sitting in the grass up there. Marty realizes he must answer Arthur Kill.

“Local — right.” Very much so.

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presents

Dawn. March 8th, 2020. She wakes up in that bed again, Barry X.’s arms wrapped around her “tip jars”. Life is good. She remembers to set her watch ahead an hour. Fall back spring forward, she recites in her mind. Best to put the coffee on; surprise Barry X. with a fresh brew. That’s a woman’s duty: to rise before the man and get his day off to a good start. Not so-so, not even great perhaps. But good at the very least.

She reviewed events of the night before. Barry read her the first few pages of his new novel he’d written that day while she was at work, his GAN he called it. She was tired and probably didn’t appreciate it as much as she should. Thus another reason for the coffee, the breakfast. Let’s see, she thinks to herself while rummaging around his refrigerator purchased the day before that, along with a proper writing desk. No more writing his GAN on the kitchen table! he demanded. “All right, all right,” she tried to calm. “Don’t get your panties all in a wad.” It was an expression her mother use to use with her all the time, and now she throws it around indiscriminately to men and women alike. “Don’t get your panties all in a wad,” she said to Gadfly the cook that day when he demanded she pick his dishes up from the counter faster so the customers wouldn’t be served cold food. “Don’t get your panties in a wad!” she shouted at Horace the dog out back, incessantly barking during her only break of the day, a 15 minuter which turned into a 1/2 hour one when she then stepped into one of his special presents beside the door. “Arrrrgh!” she screamed. “ARRRGH!” she exclaimed even louder, then took off the soiled, high heel shoe and wobblingly made her way down the bank to the stream below, washing and washing it until the present was removed and the shiny black gloss of the void revealed again. Putting it back on at the top, she fumingly pointed at Horace all the way to the door, deftly avoiding what remained of the present. “Tumblestone!” she called to the busboy when re-entering the bar. “Clean up outside the back door. And *watch* where you step!” She then glared at Gadfly, at Jake the bartender, daring them to say anything about her break running over. They’d seen her in these moods before. Best to not have a dumpster fire again. Or worse.

She removes eggs from the refrigerator and looks around for a frying pan.

(to be continued?)

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views

He finds out the rather shocking news. “The story begins in Urqhart,” he scribbles on the blank page back at home base. “Or is it Urq-U-hart.” Classic opening lines, he thinks while staring down. He’s beginning his own “Moby Prick.” Success at last!

A preliminary name is “The Revolving Tire”, after this lone object in the yard next to his. It’s truly in Urqhart, even if he isn’t. But he must find a better writing desk to view the thing for inspiration. Can’t keep penning his Great American Novel at the kitchen table!

Cathy knocks on the door. Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child is a girl Barry met down at the local biker bar the first night in town. He needed her then, but now, since he’s started what he feels will be his groundbreaking novel, she may be more distraction than necessity.

Bed, she thinks while staring in and thinking of the first night as well. *Definitely* want more of that.

Barry rather reluctantly answers the door, figuring he can take her shopping with him for that desk.

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