Tag Archives: DIAMOND
00440309 (Rose T.)
She resided in Dairy so she thought it was appropriate to start her long delayed *diary* here. To begin: renaming the place after the book. Aisle of Diary it is from now on in the writing. Or Isle — either one perhaps, depending on, let’s say, the weather. Sunny right now. Isle, then.
Dear Diary,
Today I begin my life anew. Beautiful day here in the Isle, let’s call it. Edward D. is cooking up breakfast, no dairy. I’m allergic to dairy now. Milk, cheese, all of it. My diary makes it so.
I want to first talk about Dr. Kelp and how the two timing f-er stabbed me in the back and replaced me with A. Pond. I want to talk about the lie that is Edward D., because I made him up, name just off the the top of my head back there. Let’s see, 5 sentences back now. Oh here he comes now, breakfast in hand. “Thank you dearest!” I say to him, putting down the loaded down tray beside the keyboard in front of me, planning to nibble on it for the next hour or so. Writing and dining, two of my favorite activities. 5 sentences, 5 bites (so on). I don’t do dairy. I sip on the glass of milk he also provided (“Thanks again, dearie!”).
The breakfast turns into a sandwich loaded down with at least peanut butter as the sun becomes square and black, Skippy and Jiff both chipping in (skip). Aisle it is.
I think of po man’s George Washington (Carver) not for the first time today. Nor the last.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0044, 0309, Blue Feather Sea+, Maebaleia/Satori, VOTV, X-City
Frank Park/Bull Mountain photos
Area 54 (where are you?).
A welcoming sight in the woods (reversed; w/ balancing male and female rock piles).
Detail.
Bottle tree. Just been added to the day before this photo was taken.
Sitting Bullrock (not to be confused w/ much larger Bullrocks way up the mountain slope; maybe rename one or the other; this is where I *sit*).
In a different meadow: both a white-ish golf ball and large-ish white rock (“Diamond”) placed here.
This overall location framed by the 2 welcoming sight rock stackings is *mysterious*.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0608, 0609, Bill Mountain, Frank Park
Collagesity to end
“The proximity of Diamond to Ruby in the Virgin Islands, is telling, Sally. Can I still call you Sally?” He turns, notes the slight tinge of blue in the hair. Dusk now, soon to be dawn. And in-between… well, Charlene doesn’t need to know anything about it, let’s say. Starfish Lake (or Sea). The Motel without the ending “l”. Couch instead of bed. But it’ll do for the job. He’ll think of explanations (for Charlene) afterwards. Must – go – back.
“You may.” He took that in a double way and moved onward.
“And you’ll note in the background, the — distance, that there’s another Diamond. Diamond 02 as opposed to Diamond 01. And *both* Diamonds are near a Hope (Hope 01 and Hope 02), indicating ring.”
“I’ll get it,” spoke listening Kolya from the back.
“Not now, Kolya,” Jeffrey Phillips in front said, laughing. “It’s just a metaphor.” Sally was also snickering but tried to at least cover her ruby red mouth with her ghost diamond white hand to disguise.
“Oh.”
Jeffrey Phillips now pointed upper right with his cane finger. “Parasol,” he indicated. “Opening for her to come back,” he explained further about the presence of the pin marking the small Virgin I. village on the map. “Umbrella,” he spoke more back to Kolya. “But don’t open it or there’s a chance more rain will pour into your brain.” Less snickering this time from Sally. She truly felt sorry for Kolya and his holey headed condition and thought new-ish lover Jeffrey Phillips had taken it too far this time. She forcefully halted her smile, turned to Kolya as well to show her serious face, perhaps inserting a schweet secret smile upon it in place of the wry, even mocking one.
With this, Kolya remembers the move from Lower to Upper Austra again and the search for the green grey alien. Ruby. Just like the map. But how to phrase to avoid more mocking? At least from Jeffrey, Kolya thinks. Jeffrey remains undeveloped, but perhaps this new-ish gal Sally — Newgent he thinks, similar to new gal — *can* help him. *He* can help him. He can. He: Can.
Alysha was by *his* side. Alysha reached over and held his hand, knowing she was the one. She’d grow up soon enough.
(END OF “SUNKLANDS PHOTO-NOVEL 27”!)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0027, 0617, Collagesity Fordham-, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Virgin Islands
res(e)t
“Alright enough of this mumbo jumbo hoochie koochie stuff, Minister (same as the funeral home director, conveniently enough). Let’s just get it over with and open the coffin.” Petty was inpatient to see what the Anomaly of this amalgamated town, Paper-Soap, was actually like. A plasmic entity as the sheriff suspected, one Wilbur Marshallford of Pennsylvania, Indiana? A luminous, demonic birthday hat as Koyla, Stu Umbriel, and now black-not-Indian Chief thought, product of that ill advised party and decisions made there? Probably glowing then, wouldn’t you think?
“Just as I suspected,” Chef-inspector Petty continued after the coffin lid had been raised mentally by all attending. “This plot is empty; Ruby is no longer in this world. Only a figurative diamond remains. But to whose hand? Who is wedded to the grave?”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0027, 0616, Paper Soap+, Soap
angel manners
She had no book still, red or any other color, so the only thing she had to read was her palm. Heart line equals head line. Good fortune ahead, and a lifetime of happiness. Bah, hand! The wrong hand obviously, just like she had a wrong foot, a wrong heel. The right heel was the one. The right hand was the one. She’d have to reverse the picture to make it fit.
Yet she was still physically in her bed in the small doctor’s office not 400 meters from the center of Collagesity, this newly moved in Dr. Paul Mouse, formerly of the Hope Clinic over in Black Diamond Lake. She had the power to be in two places at once, since the dreaming realm was also real to her. Powers this new incarnation of our old friend Ruby had!
And now the show was about to begin. Big star arriving soon. It was her! She was a singer in a band of unknown design before and of no design now. She was on her own, yet she was not alone. Fans! More than ever before. She felt her right heel beginning to itch again. Time to switch over to the other reality; someone was prodding her slender Grey body, the color of insect green just like the stage before her. And she was about to go on! Oh well, there was always the return times.
Dr. Paul Mouse was asking her to wake up while softly shaking the top of her long arm with his hand. He knew she was on the other side, and he had to be gentle. Thus the operation; thus the establishment of this clinic in the backwoods of the south, far enough off the highway not to even count. The bonafide doctors here had to pass efficacy tests in order to test themselves, sometimes the aliens but not a lot, since the flow had died down due to the epidemic, which may be a bonafide pandemic since it had spread to the outer isles.
She wakes up to the other reality, the second one to her because it is not so good. The first will remain there; the stage is set. She has her setlist, with the top being Plastic… Plastic… she can’t recall. She stares deep into the doctor’s eyes, wishing she had the second part of the name. Something about a bug.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0026, 0605, Angel's Rest, Lower Austra, Nautilus
00250509
It was this sight that especially haunted him on this lower level of PickleSong, aka The Sector: a giant rabbit bunny with his brains *exterior* to his head, seemingly. And a diamond of a brain it was to behold, impossibly sparkly and shiny. How to get it back in the body? And after a time Sandman knew it was made of both carats… and carrots. How could this be? He suddenly had a flash of blue roses and another rabbit path leading to… he couldn’t remember. That particular sight was not with him. He stares down one more time before continuing to explore, not having even figured out the floor part of this place much less levels above. Obviously the red door remained closed. I’m not sure he even remembers it is there at this point. He rationalizes the spooky house on the hill is a central spot, but in truth it was more of a red herring, with false leads within and without. Nevertheless, that is probably where he’s heading next — once he figures out this 1st story, pheh.
Goodbye giant bunny for now. Probably see you in a couple of hours again.
—–
Another dead end, darnit. Good thing I have this bike or I’d be completely wore out by now!
Brunhilde knew.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0025, 0509, Pickleland
name
Santa wasn’t happy. I think he was about to run me over in his flying saucer, *ZZzzOOOOOmmm*! I wake up.
—–
“Another dream about the election dearest?” Wendy. Good ol’ Wendy. Always there during consciousness. Until the end.
—–
In the next Marwood bot dream, Norm, another local resident, took over from Santa. “Sit down,” he commanded, indicating a chair in front of the guillotine I was beheaded with just the night before. And a donkey’s alongside it.
Red hat still firmly attached to skull, I sat under the Ace of Diamonds I posed beside last night before the beheading. I knew this because I was looking on as an observer rather than being a direct participant. “There is no Other,” he said to begin our conversation proper. “There is only *Here*.” I’d heard this before. I sat in the chair.
—–
It was Miss Graham, formerly Jennifer M. Friend. She was then there, “DEMO” still tattooing head, which my mind started running again and again around the cap line of her skull, like a looped film. Faster… faster. Blurred… then suddenly stabilization once more. Slowing down. 7610 this time: clarity; focusing in. I stared again at Norm. We had been here before.
The tie was back. I had to get to work. Fast!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0615, Marwood, NWES Island
tiger 03
It became clearer upstairs. Black Diamond.
I had my assignment, but I would need the good doctor’s batty-mobile removed from the garage in order to paint. Ceiling’s too low up here.
“No problem,” he answered. “It’s mainly just a show car anyway. I’ll store it up on the third.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0517, Apple's Orchard, NWES Island
-shine
“We’ll give it another shot, baker.”
“Yes. We understand that we didn’t get to the point in Uncle Meatwad that Spongeberg the Destroyer did in photo-novel 1 where he became convinced of the alien influence.” She recites this sentence robotically, pronouncing each syllable crisply. Rehearsed. They were trying to encourage me, not discourage like last night when they sat on the couch beside me and we watched the syncs together, the 2nd half of Pretty Bunnies and then the 1st part of Uncle Meatwad, well, almost the whole 1st part (of 3). Not quite to the “Egypt” cue that convinced Spongeberg going on 5 years ago now. A long time! Yes, they were trying to help, of course; understood the small misstep as guiding spirits. They know it’s hard enough for me without any support outside my trusted circle of the wife and one or maybe two other friends. The brother wouldn’t understand for sure. And that’s *my* problem to still deal with, that whole family issue. I must make peace.
“You have to understand,” Toothpick/Filbert began again, “that *we* created (a lot of the source audio). We are not the most objective judges.” He looked at Elberta; Elberta, his now blonde bombshell of a sister-fiance, looked at him. Camping came to mind this time in their still synchronized brains, another test. “And Lynch — I know what’s on your mind — will come around too. Right Pencil?”
They all looked over, but the entity properly known as Eraserhead Man in this here blog, hand behind head, wouldn’t commit to a thumbs up or thumbs down. He remained unconvinced like them. It was his creations involved after all. Same issue.
“But the maps…” I argued. All nodded here from their respective positions around him, indicating that maps were a different thing and separate from the audiovisual synchronicities. But they weren’t. Unified Field Theory. The Diamond. Heck, The Diamond is clearly coded into Billfork for X’s sake.
The hole couldn’t be made up. The hole between the synchs and binding them together existed. Hellmouth!
“I will still fight for the importance of the Piera, the run of synchs (I explained further) between Billfork and Uncle Meatwad. The period of 2004 through 2007.”
I realized a major influence was missing. Wasn’t me. This was pre-Carrcassonnee. Maybe, maybe…
“Let’s look at the rest of Uncle Meatwad.” All agreed to this as well.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0403, Carrcass+08, NWES Island
Sunklands 