Tag Archives: Frank LynnGTAV^*++++%$

00510314 (Blue Mountain)

https://www.huffpost.com/entry/bestselling-author-hugh-h_b_9538676

Within a year of feeling that (imagining my books really getting out there), WOOL started taking off. Now, I don’t want to make it sound like it all came so easy. The years I spent writing with a day job were brutal. I lived in the mountains, and the mornings were cold in our tiny home, but I forced myself up before dawn, trudged to campus in the snow, sat in a chair up in the whisper section of the university library, and wrote until I went to work. Then I wrote on my lunch break… And then I wrote at night and on the weekends. I managed 2-3 novels a year for those three years, and it was brutal. But I loved what I was writing. It was 20 years of frustration pouring out of me.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0051, 0314, Blue Mountain, Frank's Moving Castle, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS

00510311 (center (old is better?))

“Black men. Taken advantage of. Slaves again, even. Do you want that? Will you follow her… all the way to the grave? These are the things you should be asking, Frank Lynn. As I asked them before.” He waved his arms all around. “We’re in a prison, a white prison, a white *man’s* prison. Mikie and Philip Strevor on either side of you are equally to blame. Good you killed Mikie, good you killed Strevor in that other possible ending. Leaving only me, and you. And, yeah, Nick Barkley (the Eastern European). One for each of the last 3 main versions of the game.”

“Void, huh?” Frank Lynn says, scratching his head but avoiding the temptation to scratch somewhere else. Don’t want to go down that road.

“Beyond,” Karl clarifies. “Worse than anything you can imagine.” TBC

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0051, 0311, HANA LEI

00510309 (on the beach)

“You just don’t remember (the meeting), Franklin. Just like you don’t remember the mid-life crisis, my obsession with Uranus and those yoga poses, 1st at my house then up on top of Mt. Gordo with all the mountain lions. Remember? I always had to take a shotgun up there to ward them off. Couldn’t do my yoga in peace. That’s all I wanted anyway. And finally, after long long hours of work, I did. I reached 96.725, as high as I could go without killing either you or Trevor. I didn’t want to make that choice. I didn’t have it in me. So you took mine instead, Franklin. Do you remember?” He pointed to his head that was suddenly revealed to be cartoonishly flat on top; aftermath of a great fall. “This ring a bell? Because it certainly did mine, ha ha ha. Seriously… it *hurt*”

“Golden helix?” he muttered when awakening beside fiancee Daisy Flathead on the highest inhabitable level of his castle. He recalls!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0051, 0309, Frank's Moving Castle, GTA, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS

00510306 (prison)

“We should have never gone down to that f-cking planet, Frank. We’re just Black Men down there. Pitch darkly.”

“I know. I hear ya.” He looks down at his own skin and calms himself with the brown. Man in Brown. Not Black. Discernment. We’re all different, you know. *White* people.

On cue, white men Philip and Mikie join him on each side as Karl points to the only way out he knows. Space. But it could be too later for all that.

“Is that the North Star?” Frank asks innocently as they continue to stare.

“No.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0051, 0306, GTA, GTA old, Planet Q

00510304

“How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know. At least 10 years for sure,” he said in an Eastern European accent. “I lost count at some point.”

“At least 20 for me,” said the other person in the room, walking up. Another black man. And another Southern Californian by the sound of it.

Oh my God. Karl!

—–

He told me that they didn’t get along at first but then became use to each other’s ways. Both had been retired for a long time after all. And now Frank Lynn was ready to join them.

But where was Philip? And Mikie? They needed to know all this too!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0051, 0304, GTA

00510302 (the other shoe)

“So the other one held on to her apple, the chick with the red dress I also saw just earlier. Redd I’ll call her.”

“Redd, huh,” he said back while I was on my back. Couch. Psychiatrist. Clyde.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” They’d talked about a woman named Redd before. Hooker. Backseat. On his back again, getting a b. Just saying what he said.

“What do you think the dropped apple means?” he guides. “Redd holding onto her red one, but the other: butterfingers.”

“Butterfingers, yeah. Just the word *I* was thinking.” They become more in sync with each other as the session goes on. 2:54. This one’s almost over. Not untypical. Now the finish stretch.

“Let’s talk about your book then, Frank Lynn, to close. We have, let’s see (he checks his watch but he doesn’t have an arm, oh well — new one).

“What happened to your *arm*, dawg?” said Frank Lynn, noticing it for the first time since it wasn’t his writing one. Hidden by a writing pad until this new hand gesture revealed it.

“Oh.” He looks down. “Couldn’t bother to screw it on this morning. Just woke up and said, ‘screw it’ to all that… aand we’re down to 5 minutes. Can’t extend because Tom is afterwards. Tom is also a full-timer, in that he completely fills his time with me with words, pages… novels again. Each session is a novel. 4 minutes now; better speak now.”

“Speak speak speak,” says Frank Lynn, getting pretty fed up with the turn. They were soo close! He decides to just start counting down the time. “357… 356… 355.”

“Frank Lynn… please,” mildly scolds the psychiatrist, taking several pills in the gap for his pain. Perhaps the arm, perhaps the army. That shot went directly into the rear instead of the front. Back to front. But he survived to die another day.

“345… 344,” he continued.

“339?” Clyde said after 5 more, pills deep in the gullet now, about to enter the stomach. Then, just like that, they were back on the planet, walking through the tall grass, green and not any other color. Like it could be — out there. Just as it flipped all the cards were over. Tom already had one shoe in the door.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0051, 0302, California, GTA, Schrodinger VIIIa, Starfield

00510301

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0051, 0301, California, GTA, Planet Q

00510215 (kingdom of dog)

https://gta.fandom.com/wiki/Mirror_Park

Mirror Park, like the rest of East Vinewood, is home to post-ironic hipsters driving Issis and drinking Bean Machine coffee. The area is based on Echo Park and Silver Lake in Los Angeles, known for having a high concentration of hipsters in residence.

“As you can see from the map, the railroad passes directly beneath Mirror Lake which is the equivalent of Silver Lake according to the gta fandom wiki. But where it passes under may not be exactly the center of the video in question — a little more toward its beginning as I’m eyeing it right now. Soo. We need to go back. Where exactly is this silver band passed back to its creator?”

A little later:

“Okama, how are you on drinking coffee? Do you like the beans? Can you handle sitting in a coffee shop all day observing what goes on outside the windows?”

Okama had found his element. “Sign me up!” he responded as fast as humanly possible. TBC

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0051, 0215, California

00510212

“*Found* you you mini f-cking crop circle or sumtin.”

—–

“Now to find out what’s *really* Under The Silver Lake. Train tracks pass right through below!”


entrance


exit


middle

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0051, 0212, California, GTA

00510208 (metals)

“You asked for a gold car, I provided.”

(pause) “AI?”

—–

“Silver Lake now? What the heck is going on here??”

—–

Lead to end.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0051, 0208, California, GTA