Tag Archives: Daigle Eddy^*+++++

00480209 (Home)

“I came into the parlour thinking: I wanted, like, 2 fish in a bowl at the center — navel. But Eddy, my Edward, if only in the future, poopooed the idea. You need to counter fish with birds, swim with flight. Else you’ll be stuck underwater, unable to gain perspective by reaching the land. He stared at me. I think I fell a little in love right then and there — a seed. It was the old proverb, you see.”

“Proverb?” I prompted.

“Yeah, fish in water — to the fish it’s like our air. They don’t understand the concept of water and that it’s below while air is above. Water just *is* for them… everything.”

—–

And so it was with Our Second Lyfe for me, at least up until photo-novel 41 and continuing into 42 and beyond. Now I have both up *and* down. Strengthened; reinforced. I actually appreciate it more now by contrast. It is what it is but that’s still saying a lot. It hasn’t been beaten back and broken down like I kind of expected. And I don’t think that’s going to happen.

The above shot is from the Navel Sink (aka Egg Hill Sink) at the exact center of the Corsica continent both in a north-south and east-west direction, once centered itself by what was called the Phish Bowl, a long term night club of some kind as I recall shaped like a giant fish tank. Gone but not forgotten: obvious foreshadowing for future developments in several ways.

I had a “friend” who lived in that center too. Sachie. Haven’t thought about her in a while.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0209, Corsica, Egg Hill Sink^

00480107 (front, and back too)

“I got my first full blown color tattoos right here in [Dokken Hollow]. Eddy, my Edward, was also my tattoo artist of choice. In that way and more. Butterflies,” she elaborated. “Red green blue, like the primary colors.”

“Of light,” I tried to pinpoint. “Not the Earthy pigment kind.”

“That’s correct. Combined to make purest white. That’s the navel. But there was also yellow; the gold chain that came later was predicted. This represents, you could put it, my connection with the Mother Sphere — Earth as you say. I am from this Earth and to the Earth I will return. The body is temporary.”

“Of course,” is all I could think to say here.

“Eddy — my Edward again — said the butterflies are the fish released at the core center. They work my way up one leg to here. He said the fish should not continue, poopooing the idea I came in there with. He said fish should be paired or countered with birds — can’t remember which one he said now. But I do remember the ‘aha!’ and the sticking up of the index finger in the air to also indicate he had a brilliant idea. Come to think of it, the yellow was already there too. He said he needed to release the Earth. You are from the Mother, he said. But you are not *of* the Mother. You are your own self, (in) your own sphere. Butterflies should do the trick, he said. Birds would be too busy, he went on. Butterflies are simple — pure flight indicated. Less Earth. Yes, he said, let’s look at some patterns and I can have the whole thing done in an hour, 2 hours tops. And so that’s how I met Eddy.”

“You mentioned several tattoos. Several full blown color tattoos.”

“Two, yeah, I flipped over after that and he did the back as well. A tree, but with the same colors, mix in a dash of orange this time, a dab of purple. I basically had to take my tank top off. And that’s how it all got started. I have no excuses. I’m just telling you the way it went down. At last.”

“Amen to that,” I say.

[delete 3 exchanges]

“Afterwards, he said he was closing at 5 because the band would be starting soon and he can’t take the noise. He pointed backwards, to the wall; toward the Bang Bang (Bar). I lose some business that way, I also remember him saying. Drunks coming in here from the bar, wanting to mark up their body in some way, in some fashion, often to keep up with the Tom, Dick, and Harrys of the world. Or compensation. OR — Tomasina, um, let’s see, Diedra I guess, and then Harriets to end all that (laugh).”

“Of course,” I say again. “Female to male.” I wondered if the mention of Tom was accidental but that’s just how my mind works these days.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0107, Dokken Hollow, Jeogeot

00470615

“Oh Eddy. Look at the time. We’ve got to end this thing (!).” But they stood still, at least for a while.

“You were complimented, you know,” he said after a spell.

“Was I?” She shifted her position toward him. She was never complimented. Especially by you-know-who.

“Yeah. Inside the Dark Peak. Someone messaged me, said that I was a lucky lucky boy to have you, And I am (!).” He left out the “beautiful” part for some reason. He probably shouldn’t have, maybe switching it out with lovely. Too late now.

“Oh Ed. That’s sweet (!).” And she leaned over and kissed him on not the mouth but the cheek. After a pause: “Soo… should we go back this morning?”

“Austin’s Island?” he said, thinking she might have meant another location.

“Whichever.” And after making sure all their clothes and attachments had rezzed in properly in this safer space to prevent lag or even premature log off (happens more than it should for them, especially Shelley), they teleported away from this place. The Ring just couldn’t hold them any longer.

Goodbye Old New Island. Or New New Island — haven’t decided which is which yet. Or actually which one is realer than the other. I’m guessing New, whichever that turns out to be. We’ll see soon enough!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0615, Gaston^^, Hana Lei^^, New Island^

00470604 (76ers)

“Mt. Sandraman,” exclaims Eddy, not tired at all from the hike up since it’s only a 42 meter peak. Still he’s very happy they reached their intended goal for the, er, (photo-)novel. 6 sections in; kind of cutting in close….

“Pretty,” admits Shelley laying beside him in not nearly so high grass this time. Nor wavy. No wind here on *this* New Island. Or very little. “But nothing like the black and white one in my dreams.”

She rolls over, faces Eddy, her Edward, her New Island husband and just new husband period. “We can’t stay here, Ed. You know that.”

Eddy exhales. “I know.” He was tired of the argument of 6, slavery — at least in its triplicate form — vs. 7, freedom. He had to let all this go.

“We lost our thought-to-be villa.”

“We should have never left Sandraman here,” Eddy reinforces the loss. Perfect, though, they knew. For a brief time. Oh well.

“There’s always Gaston,” she tried to brighten the mood. “Dark Peak — more good times, right Ed?”

“Yes. Good times. But laaagggy.”

“Yeah. Austin is there, though, 3rd down in the pile of Firesign Theatre members still performing weekly at the Rhino. Or 2nd up.” She edges a little closer. “We could, let’s say, pluck him from the rest, sit him down and talk to him about… stuff.” She looks heavenward, as if seeing more in the sky. “And there’s also his island (sigh). More good times. It seems they would never end. Infinite supply of… you know.”

“I know.”

She rolls over again toward him. “He probably set all that up, you know. He wants to stay on our radar. Probably wouldn’t be too hard to manage. Look at what I provide you, he might say. Do this in remembrance of me.”

“Shel-ley,” reprimands Eddy, glancing over at her with a scolding look. Neither were religious in the traditional sense. But both also believed in the concept of evil in the form of, let’s call it, non-freedom. Witchcraft could be an element of that. Black magic. Control.

“At any rate, he wants us to read him. We also know that from Colorado.”

Eddy sat up. “Where are we *going* with this?” But he couldn’t help playing footsie with her through the frustration.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0604, Colorado, Gaston^^, New Island^

00470416

Newtown policepeople Michelle Roundup and Bill Mustardgas also formed a legitimate and formidable team but they were currently investigating the Blue Moon static murders over on the old continent of Our Second Lyfe and thus unavailable.

Nor were Ted and Cruise of the potential When Push Comes to Shovel team, still on the clock down at the motor shop and unable to get off.

Which left the following, assembled in the sewer room underneath the entrance to also absent Alfred’s grocer store (sick with pill), the heart of the matter. Starting back row to the right, we have Norris and Pietmond, 2 gypsies (don’t call them hippies!) who rammed and bammed into town from the South Gate in a most dramatic fashion back at the beginning of this here section, killing a number of Germans but defending their actions by saying they were zombies and not real people. Were they right? Let’s move on down the row and we might see.

Next are Eight and Eighty last seen in the ratskeller beneath town hall, waiting for Alessandra who is the same as a white-clad Wheeler. Wheeler mistakened one of them for town *owner* Rag Doll, but she got her position wrong in town. The owner herself will be arriving shortly to correct all that.

Moving on to the second row from the back — and also the front — we have Osborne Well and, next to him, his daughter Lou, taking the place of Ruby and Bookie who also couldn’t make it for various reasons. Next is Wheeler likewise subbing for Alessandra, but, unlike the others, not directly sitting with her partner, who would be next up in our review front row right: Newt. Then to finish our teams off we have Dimmy and Marilyn M. from the cloth shop scene a couple of posts ago.

Time for dancing around the main subject matter is over. Red clad Shelley and now black clad mate Eddy unclasp themselves from each other and leave the stage. Rag Doll takes control….

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0416, Jeogeot, Newtown

00470207 (center and circumference)

She liked to sit at this table in the apartment because it gave a view of the statues she so adored, especially Colossus, he he he. She typically and temporarily derendered a certain piece of metallic clothing to great effect. Oh, here comes Eddy. Better stop staring, ha.

—–

“I’m glad you started drinking without me,” said Eddy after sitting down and manifesting a glass of wine of his own. “Sorry about being late. But I was playing around with the marketplace and found some free versions of those statues outside I thought you’d like, including Colossus and Titan.”

Oh *goody*, said Shelley to herself, getting excited at the prospect of hovering above, walking below, and just looking from all angles at the giant effigies — in her own private space of course. Don’t want to start more gossip and rumors flying; Vortexville has enough of those already, she figured. Like those swirling around Old Ben and his Giant Womb Woman situated right smack in the middle of town for all to see, hmph. A little subtlety, Ben!

“But,” continued Eddy. “Unfortunately I also found out they all derezz after 8 minutes. Would have to pay a boatload of money for the originals. So all — sorry again — I got you was this camera for a L$1 at the same store. It won’t derezz, though. And you can take *pictures* of your beloved statues. You know I don’t like looking at that God awful black hole sun out there. We can sit and eat and relax at other tables around our pretty large apartment, ones that don’t face the west. Whaddaya think, huh? Camera.” He indicated the instrument of photography he’d placed in the middle of their table. Shelley looked at it… and then outside again.

“Okay,” she tries to brighten herself, a light bulb going off above her head, even. “Sounds good to me!”

As soon as they finished their last meal at that westward facing table for a while, she herself had logged onto the marketplace and bought 20 demos of each of the two available statues Eddy found. Good for 8×20 minutes or over two and a half hours apiece. Then she would buy 20 more pairs tomorrow if needed, ha. Can’t beat free! Even if there are other prices to pay, like time limits. The camera would remain unused for days, maybe years.

She’d rezz them out back behind the abandoned skyscraper so Eddy or anyone else wouldn’t see. Hers and hers alone. Until Ben walked up next Tuesday’s Wednesday. “Aa HA!” he said, staring up and recognizing a kindred spirit.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0207, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, Vortexville

00470204

He was giving the finishing touches on his patented veggie stew hot dogs when he looked forward through the wisps of steam rising from Forman George’s old grill and had a vision, as if on an invisible screen before him.

Another place with flowers besides these exotic ones from the Amazon (store) all around, making it smell like a jungle out here on the patio where he was preparing food for Shelley Marsha and his cousin also originally named Edward. “2 fer 1,” he whispered to himself and himself only, watching the vast field of them wave strong and free in the brisk wind as their imaginary scent mixed in with the others from reality. And then he heard someone running behind him, just like at the beginning of it all, his genesis. Now it can be revealed (sorry).

Common denominator: triangles. Slice to be more specific.

And then he simply forgot the whole hallucination ever happened, attention returned to those finishing touches.

“Stew dogs’ done!” he said proudly a 1/2 minute later, and then prepared the plates.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0204, Bellisaria, ENIGMA, Jeogeot, Nautilus, Nawt Vaya, Vortexville

00470203 (the search for meaning (the flesh and the stone))

“I have a confession, Eddy, my Edward.”

He looked up at her from his bench position, his standard sitting place in their very tall, very narrow new New Island dwelling spot shaped like a ring. “Yes, dearest?”

“I went over to Fishers Island last night.”

“Umm… in your dreams?” Eddy asked of his lover, his *inventor* Shelley. Again the red haired version. Just to be someone different or try to be.

“Nah, in reality. I wanted to check out the location of the K2 lounge. The, ahem, *landlord* said it was gone now in the text accompanying her profile picks, along with the attached cafe. Yup — both gone as I checked.”

“But — you were here all night,” countered Eddy.  “You mean? … that period between supper and TV time, that hour?”

“Yup,” she said again. “And I was over there long enough to join some kind of academy. I think it was run by witches because they gave me this costume for free.” She quickly donned it. “Cool, huh!”

“Hazel, I mean, PHEH, *Shelley*, this is bad. Really bad.”

No, he thought, taking another gander. Not bad. He came up with another word: evil. Really evil.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0203, New Island^, Wallytown/Fishers Island^

00470202 (fear and loving)

“Great Shelley. Now there’s an alien involved. I *told* you we should have never left Sandraman.”

“And dandelions (!)” she added to her newly minted husband Eddy’s declaration, attention on something up front instead of ’round back. Opposites they were in many ways, light and dark. Eddy still enjoyed the triple form of the number 6 back where they came from, back over there around that hill/mountain in the distance you can still see from here. He never tired of it. Slave to it even, he was. Because he actually doesn’t have his own independence. Apart from Shelley. Minted; created. Like Albert/Douglas before him. Or actually after him, since the avatar named Eddy, D’aigle comes from an earlier photo-novel than the last one. Just after my retirement. Probably 33 without checking. Feels like he’s always been around now, along with his twin cousin Edward Daigle.

Freedom, she though about once more, stare remaining forward. Like seeds blowing away in the wind. 7 over 6 but still remembering where it came from. Never forget my friend, never forget.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0202, New Island^

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^