Tag Archives: EIFFEL TOWER

May 10, 2026 · 5:53 am

00500211 (female, waiting)

“XXX Dream; It’s real!” she said as he approached from the south, having checked out a bit of the new green grasslands before moving north into settled country. Right on the line he is up above. (Visiting in the) daytime of course. Biff Carter dare not come here during the night; had to remain a tether to reality for Shelley and the others under his new management. He’s *not* going back to that dirty, dingy, claustrophobic restaurant on the edge of the village. Simply no to all that, he solidifies. “Just like in Concrete, Washington,” she continued, thinking of bigfoot there, the Man in Brown, so on. People didn’t want to see but still: there he is. The last thing shot before the quintessential Google Street View car found its final resting spot atop the Eiffel Tower, the most recognized landmark on Planet Earth. Until now. He was upon her, took in her Pink again. “Check out the parcel description if you don’t believe me.” She held out her white stick cigarette. “Hit?”

“No thanks I’m trying to cut back. And: I believe you about the parcel.” Yeah, he’d checked just in case while walking up. Like I said, he had everything to lose. Had to make sure *Shelley* wasn’t dreaming. XXX it was. But he didn’t tell her this, wanted to at least exude pretend confidence in her judgement, her grasp on truths.

“Soo… have you made a decision?”

“I have. Silver. No Mosquitoes.”

“Seven, then.”

“Yeaahh. Seven.” She reflexively looked down at the pinkness all about her body. Including the part alien skin, she knew. Thanks Baker Blinker!

Biff knew this was dangerous territory and that 7 could still overtake 9 since 9 could not probably move into 10 any more, safety zone on the other side of likewise static zero. But — the exuding.

“Ready for this, then?” X in triplicate form again. She hadn’t tried this out yet. Scared she was. And him through her. No restaurant no restaurant no restaurant. This experiment better *pan* out, else back to the pots and. He made sure they were on the same page of the script down here before heading upwards. Double check, *triple* check.

It worked! Biff remained manager of music not food. He knew this triplet form of Pink would *sell*. TBC

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0211, Omega, Southern, The Cross

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May 8, 2026 · 4:04 pm

00500209

We return end to beginning again, Omega to Alpha style. What to me is obviously the quintessential Google Street View car (get back to that soon) ends up perched on top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris after a long long journey through many many lands, mission fulfilled.

Final resting spot acquired, its quintessential driver who is also a shooter now has time to reflect on what they’ve been through, Old Sweetback in Concrete WA being perhaps the last victim, the quintessential thing being shot at, the illusive Bigfoot found, the Holy Grail of Earthly mysteries. No need to go on.

But then I find out that the Omega continent of Our Second Lyfe is slated to be completed after 17 years, its missing southeast corner filled in at long long last. This happens to be where I began my Google Street View related posts in these here photo-novels. Utah.

So let’s get that car back on the streets again. Approach from the west this time to highlight the mirroring aspect of the involved 14.5 mile Francis-Marion circle, Samak > Kamas.

Right on the line we are (!). Wasn’t planned that way.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0209, Omega, Southern, The Cross, The Straight, Utah, Washington

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December 11, 2024 · 7:58 am

00450204

I parked on pink which matched the color of my Villefort Alvarado 570 De Luxe Convertible — appropriate. Lizzy’s own even larger and more expensive gold plated wheels to match her body was already there, blocking off the parking lot as, in turn, I just blocked her in. As if she owned the place. And perhaps she does. Let’s listen in…

“So. Are you suppose to be Tin or Lead now, Lizzy? I always forget.” Sarcasm. Bitter. Evelyn hates Lizzy, Tin or not. She hates this bar too. She hates everything but that’s beside the point. Lizzy is the focus of that hate right now. Lizzy and (her?) Lizzie’s. Let’s continue to listen in…

“I’m going to answer that with a riddle, Evelyn. Ready? What’s blue and bitter and a hard pill to swallow whatever?”

“Jeez,” says thoughtful Evelyn, game for a game. “Let me see, Iiii–”

“It’s YOU. You hate everything. I just happen to be the focus of that hate right now.” Just as I thought. And I forgot that Tin is silver-ish not gold now. She’d changed with her last album about alchemy, “Coleman County Corners” or something. Country? (origin). Let’s go with France. 1/2 of the songs are set in such. There’s a really interesting one about the Eiffel Tower and how gold statuettes of the famous monument were mixed up with the ordinary lead ones by 2 thieves attempting to corner a market, but that’s another story involving Lavender. Best to leave Lavender out of it for now. Let’s stick to pink. Back to the action…

Well, they’re slapping each other now in a kind of continuous way. Both are getting a bit red cheeked already. This may not end well, may end with one of them, perhaps both of them dropping to the ground. Should I step in? I decide to step in.

“*Ladies*,” I tried to calm, walking toward them. “Ladies ladies *ladies*.” *Smack* *smack*. I was down on the ground with a double to the face, ears bloodied on both sides. I drain the blood out of at least my left ear to try to continue hearing what’s going on.

“*Right* here. *Right* now,” Lizzy was saying now about a duel, slapping ceased for the moment with my downfall. Oh dear, this was getting worse instead of better. “*10* paces. Live grenades.” Live grenades? I think with my aching head. Surely she jests. “Make it bombs, atomic bombs,” Evelyn upped the ante. “World extermination if you lose, world extermination if I lose.” Where in hell was this going?

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0045, 0204, C2077, Kabusie

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October 2, 2020 · 5:33 am

fireproof

He was laid down in a trench and then covered head to foote with mourning flowers but not the expensive Amazonia kind that would quickly burn up the family’s meager savings. Toothpick stood back after throwing down his own bluebell blooms, picked fresh from a Meat City field behind Francis’ club just this morning, maw beside him in her Sunday finest which was actually just her everyday rags, and her hopefully soon-to-be new roommate Mr. Z beside her, complete with his continental mask laden backpack which he took most everywhere for fear of theft in this here backwoods suburb. Elberta was absent since she wasn’t suppose to see the groom the week before the wedding; Toothpick borrowed her hat to give his now sister/soon wife a type of presence.

They took one last look at blossom bedecked Uncle Luther, killed by a flu-like disease just 2 days before yesterday’s tomorrow, a stark naked Luther not wearing any overalls for the 1st time since way back in ’76 when he inherited them from his recently deceased Cousin Ferdinand, dead from a fire in the old mansion that ended the rule of the 100. Poverty: the rule of the day ever since. Some named it the Curse of the Coveralls, another word for overalls back in the day and what Uncle L. called his own, but Toothpick might have just made that up after the fact, in his head; he had an imaginative brain, almost invisible to others, or he tends to hide it behind a perpetually straw embellished mouth that he also feels distracts from his damaged teeth as he whisks it about rapidly, creating a kind of blurring effect in that area.

It was time to leave the teeny tiny cemetery next to a corner of Marwood’s scaled down Eiffel Tower and let gravedigger Big Hand Eddie do his work. Goodbye Uncle Luther. But hellooo coveralls!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0315, Marwood, Meat City, NWES Island

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September 12, 2020 · 9:07 am

new kid 02

“There.” Toothpick pointed past the scaled down Eiffel Tower and other 1/2 rezzed in objects and structures between the two temples. “Just like I said… *Berry*.”

“I’ve never heard of this Temple of TILE.” Master Berry couldn’t believe Toothpick had broken free of his power. Through a *game*? “Tell me more about this Carcassonne.”

“I’ll do better than that. Why don’t you come with me over there this Sunday. You have to choose a color ahead of time. I’m always red. I don’t know why but that’s what I always am. And… well, you’ll see.”

“Thank you, Toothpick. I might.”

Toothpick gandered back at his former master, took him in again for what he was. Human. *Not* like Carrcassonnee. She’s alien through and through. A real avatar to base a real religion around. Berry will see. Maybe he can join us too. Give up this sham temple out here in the boondocks. Move to the city as well. Maybe something else will open up in the Kidd Tower where I live. Heck, he can move in with *me*. Be *my* slave for a change. “Berry,” he decided to test, “how are you on fixing flapjacks?”

“Uhm.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0102, Meat City, NWES Island

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September 5, 2020 · 6:18 am

Barry 02 Graham 02

Wheeler was called in to move some 88’s and decided to have a chat with Barry while she was at his studio. “How’d the meeting go with Warhole?” she asked to begin. “I heard Ant and Harrison Jett were also there. Something about murder?”

“No,” defended Barry, not worried about his blood stained hands in the moment, although he reflexively crossed his arms to hide them.

“No, everything was lovely,” he continued. “Warhole and I were bickering a bit when Ant and Harry showed up.”

“Harry?”

“Yeah, that’s what Ant called him all the time. Anyway, *they* started bickering with each other and then we started looking around, all four of us, and begin laughing. First a ha, then a ho ho, then a hu hu hu, then a full out he he he he for all. Graham then served some kind of regional soup for us and then everyone said ‘hi’ to end, kind of like aloha.”

“Graham? Who’s that?” continued Wheeler with the questions. She didn’t plan on delivering so many but here we are. She looks over at the slanted picture of the Eiffel Tower and thinks we need to get back over to Marwood and the bots for more storytelling on the Jeogeot continent. Speaking of which…

“Graham owns the cafe. Rothko fan through and through, along with collecting covid ravens and practicing anti-fascist remote viewing.”

“She?” Barry didn’t say ‘she’ — didn’t identify a sex for Graham, which is more a boy’s name I’m assuming. Where did Wheeler get…? Oh, maybe *she’s* indicating I should go in that direction. *She* wants to be Graham. So I decided to ask her. Wait, I’m not in this shot.

Barry didn’t pick up on the anomaly and simply replied, “*she*, yeah.” Wheeler was already checking her outfits.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0021, 0609, Corsica, Northwest

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August 29, 2020 · 9:52 am

search

“Ahem, I am looking for the purple girl,” Sandy Beech announced to the 2nd floor of the Great Marwood Tower in general, a duplicate of our Parisian Eiffel in scale if not in size. An older lady in a flowery black dress at the bakery counter turned to him and cleared her throat as well. “*Ahem*, young man.”

“Yes?” Sandy inquired. “You know something? I’m talking about the Blue Berry Girl,” he clarified. Of course he didn’t add that The Twins were looking for her. No one needs to know that here… none of these bots who, despite being unreal, still have eyes to see and ears to hear. They know things. He’s learned that down through the months existing in this place. And Marwood is thick with them. That’s their raison d’etre, apparently.

“I know something. But it, uhum, will cost (*cough*).” She took another deep drag of her Winston cigarette, her last. But she had a Marlboro pack ready in the top of her left white stocking, stretching it beyond needed elasticity. Oh well, she’d could always sell the damaged goods down at the Cub Run thrift shop in Apple’s Orchard (Apple’s Orchard?) for another carton or two; they weren’t particular about what they take in. Or maybe some sweets of some kind. Maybe rum cake — killing two birds with one stone as it were. Satisfying two vices at once. “Young man,” she prompted, ready to get the sale on. “Are you still there young man?”

“Of course I’m here,” Sandy shot back bitterly. Stupid bots, he thinks inwardly. Always questioning whether you’re real or not or here or not. I suppose it’s a defense mechanism built into their kind.

“I –“. But she broke down here and forgot what she was doing. The next carton beckoned. She pulled up the dress from her stockinged legs and retrieved. Sandy turned away, having seen enough old in his days of taking care of Ma-ma and Aunty Jenn. Sandy gave up in that direction. He decided she was just leading him on.

“Like what you see?” The older woman then spoke toward bakery attendant Betty John Hammock and confidently declared, “he likes what he sees,” making her nod. Stupid bots.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0021, 0512, Jeogeot, Marwood, NWES Island

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