Tag Archives: GOOGLY EYES
00420505 (The defeat of Gray Man?)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0505, Bright Moon Cottage, Happy Town, LSD, Violence District
00420411
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-OYPicGH_E
Happy Town train flying over LOVE again and outta there.
Half of the Tower Bridge (*not* London Bridge (!)), which was the same percentage I encountered next door on my neighbor’s plot when setting up Aisle of Palms back in the first of January.
Googly eyes on the Our Second Lyfe version…
… which is the same effect most LSD characters have when viewed in a certain set of textures (one of 4 in the game) called Distortion or Downer.
Interestingly these type of googly eyes will not appear on Tower Bridge — which also happens to be found in the LSD game — because it doesn’t have a face. Here we almost seem to have a crossover effect of sorts between LSD and Our Second Lyfe going on.
LSD’s Tower Bridge with normal (Static) textures
Btw, even though the bridge next door was deleted in full soon after I arrived in the area…
… the dead parrot statue still remains underneath the Parrots for Pirates Pet Shop in my town, a lasting aftereffect.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0411, Big Woods, Jeogeot, Kyoto, LSD, Monument Park
the return of googly eyes
Happy New Years everyone! Hope yours will be starting off fantastically.
Tomorrow I plan to begin renting 10,725 square meters of land on the continent of Jeogeot, Gods willing. I think my earmarked parcel is safe until then because of this…
… an “intrusive” aisle of palms on an elongated 512 parcel in the middle of the thing. In fact, that’s a tentative name for the town I want to construct here, a rehash of Constantynople which is a rehash of Fordham’s Collagesity and so on and so on down the line.
Just like 8 years ago, the wife and I have returned from a vacation in Charleston SC and also nearby Folly Beach, the latter becoming more and more the center of focus during our almost yearly sojourns to the world famous metropolis around Christmastime.
It all seems to fit together seamlessly *because of* and not despite the invasive palms.
And then there’s also the London Tower Bridge nearby, which, in this virtual version, just lost 1/2 of itself. Wonder why? Maybe I’ll be able to find out from my new neighbors.
I must keep my eyes peeled for more synchronicities, ha.
And I plan to recreate the dead parrot statue as well in some fashion. Blackbeard’s? (Bluebeard’s?) To be seen.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blackbeard#Blockade_of_Charles_Town
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0410, Big Woods, Jeogeot, Michigan, South Carolina
one last sensory experience
“There. That was me, Alice. A wolf caught in the bright headlights.” CHANGE
Lazy girl Marsha “Pink” Krakow had seen and heard and felt and tasted and touched enough in Paper-Soap. Back to Cass City to wrap this section up, she said in her mind. Just after she finishes nomming down this delicious sewer popcorn.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0215, Paper Soap, Soap
00410213
“Why didn’t you tell me about the chest, father?” she imagined asking him later at the same motel, mother with a new client by now. Father Pritchard, a different kind of father, one with a holy vest chained to a cross he never asked for; was just in the family business, his father a father, *his* father a father, so on. This is a way to exact his flesh, pound-for-pound.
He made googly eyes with this, which gave her the answer. He was thinking about the past even now.
“Ahh, so… mmm…”
“Boyys,” he issued. “I worshiped the boyys. They just made me… blow up (!).”
“Combustible. Like oxygen.”
“I suppose.” He was clear for one minute, now muddied again. The whites of his eyes had narrowed into slits like snakes.
“So you *couldn’t* be my father.”
“No,” he admitted. “No, I couldn’t be.”
Must have been *Robert*, she realized. She said this to her father who was now not her father, at least biologically. Psychically perhaps “yes” still. She hadn’t given up on him just because of the Big Reveal — opening up the chest. He was with her mother just not in a strict biblical sense. Not like Father Pritchard now. More on-the-spot irony.
“Swamp Fox, right.” We better end there.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0213, Paper Soap, Soap
00410211
She learned the truth about the chest that day. Octavia’s.
Borneo chest. Square. Iowa. Flying — planes (and lines (and points)).
He was… fascinated with that chest! she realized. What’s inside? Pictures of Octavia. Letters of love. Notes: “don’t forget to pick up milk at Speedy Mart before our rendezvous tonight” (etc.).
—–
She went back to her old home in (Paper-)Soap to check Mouse’s new info against her mother’s.
“Greene’s Motel,” she started. “That’s where the doctor — my father — said I was conceived.”
“Well there’s a green *door* inside. Along with a green phone. Maybe that’s what he was referring to.” Her Maw, Octavia Tart III, wondered if the old man perhaps was getting senile and confusing names with each other, overlapping colors where they shouldn’t be. Always fascinated with hues the good doctor was. Maw Tart wasn’t surprised that her old lover was involved with fellow doctors named Gray(son) and Brown, for example — fits the pattern. “Blue?!” he said one time to her, rubbing off the rouge she just put on that morning thinking it would please him. “I said red!” he said. Purple at the least, he thought to himself. She believed that was the day Alice came along. The door to her standard 104 room was locked for some reason — had to do it out back. Perhaps it was occupied, she realized now. Yes, Daisy was working that day as well. Made sense suddenly. Alice was conceived in the alley because of Daisy (she imagined). She’d have to mark it in her “Little Book of Vengeance” against the fellow hooker, now going on 12 (or 32) years at the Lucky Motel. 12 (or 32) years is too long — can’t call her Lucky now. Her: 6 (or 26). She still has some luck left but it’s running out quick. Mouse was a way out but wasted. No luck with Robert either, the owner of the swamp. Or so she thought.
“What about Claude? The golden robot?”
“What *about* Claude?” Maw Tart got tense all of a sudden, felt a surge of the unknown and probably unknowable coming, like in the Dark Days. Before the Coming of Jesus into her heart.
“Well… I mean, he — I mean, *she’s* in Cass City now. And he’s fiddling with her.”
“I bet he is,” spouts Maw Tart through the fear. Pleasure robots, *pheh*.
“No. I mean, he’s tinkering with her. Like in her parts.”
“My statement still stands.”
“*No*. Like… *reprogramming*. What do you know about the numbers 1886 and 1936?”
“I know they’re *years*.”
“50 years. Between them, I mean.”
“I’m counting, let’s see, 3822,” Maw said, showing off her math skills and being difficult at the same time. The fear was standing just behind her now, threatening to reach into her chest with its shadowy paw and pull out her savior.
“He’s interested in hues. Red to yellow to green to blue. Or something.”
“Hues, *huh*.”
“He’s doing *something* to that robot. He’s spying on his prospective replacements, Maw.”
“HUH — wish *I* had a replacement. Then I could go work at the beer factory they opened up in Barrow County; become like Laverne and Shirley like I always wanted to.”
Alice didn’t have the heart to tell her mother. Barrow County was no more. She’d been sending her postcards from the Void.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0211, Iowa, Paper Soap, Soap
00400415
Ketchup Tom knew this day would come. End of gig; time to go. But what is time here? It was as if he’d just arrived.
He stared at what he remembered was a sim-skipper outside the window in the harbour. “Should’ve come in on that instead of Marsha’s VW,” he muttered to himself. Marsha was in the shower. *No*: Marsha insisted on renting the place next door instead of staying in the same apartment with Ketchup. She certainly hadn’t given up on Eddie, her Edward, back in Big Sandy — which we’ll be returning to soon.
Ketchup Tom knew he was The Musician. He knew he could come in but, once here, couldn’t leave, unlike so many before him. Because he was different. He and the town were like two cut out pieces of paper stuck together. Like fused leaves of an old waterlogged book found floating in the harbour. “*No*,” he insisted just as vehemently back to Marsha in the rental place next door when he came to tell her. “You have your place and I have mine. Here.”
Yellow House, he knew. He wasn’t going anywhere. Marsha would have leave Gaston by herself.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0415, Gaston^^
Jem and… Jim?
“I’m only talking to you through this wall this time. *John*.”
“You know I’m not John. I’m Jim.”
“I bought that *before*. Not now. (longer pause) *John*.”
“Okay, okay,” he relented while still dancing up a storm. Hadn’t rained in Ontario since last Tuesday’s Wednesday. He’s trying to chip in, help out the town where he can. Week before last it was portraitures for the poor, however worthless that was. Then the week before that: free bungee jumps for babies down at the gorge. Rope and elastic was a speciality, but he had many of those. He could compose music too. This was his song he was dancing to. “Rat Infested Jim,” the first single from his critically panned but nevertheless cult hit psychedelic heavy metal album “Alice in Suds”. It’s about a man who turns into a rodent and eats insulation in the walls of houses, focusing on the hottest summer and coldest winter days. The title song and next released single from the album is about a woman who can’t find a towel because of all the bubbles produced from her bath, eventually going blind as a result.
“You know why I’m here.”
Dancing stays steady. “The duck. You think I know where the duck is.”
“Right. Welll?”
“Did you look high? Did you look *while* you’re high? Preferably high as a kite in the hands of an experienced Benjamin Franklin. Like *me*, hehe.”
“Stop the nonsense,” Jem plainly stated, taking a swig of her Stygian to mask another oral fixation. “You know I don’t do that stuff any more. Besides, I don’t have the energy now.” She pivots, peers at him through the opening in the chalkboard bar.
“Like I told you before, I don’t have much time. Not much (sniff), time at all (sniff sniff wipe-nose sniff). Help mee,” she squeaked, desperation in her voice and facial expressions. She wipes her face of tears with her arm, sniffs again, sniffs some more, wipes some more, looks off in the distance all moist eyed and mascara stained.
John took pity on her. He didn’t stop dancing but he was formulating a plan. He knew she met the duck the first time when she was high but that wouldn’t work any longer. They’d have to use the wegee board.
The rain starts. The dance stops. Now on to the next good deed.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0111, Wendy-Ontario
Arabian Nights
Newt brought Jane Space over to Ontario or thereabouts (it was Tonar) to interview her for an acting position, similarly colored couch *acting* as an attractor. Turns out the couch would have been a better choice. Jane was simply too spacey to reply to much of what Newt was asking. “What did you say?” she repeated for the umteenth time when he probed further into her past for needed experience and references. Soo many memories. Galaxy memories, the deepest and most unfathomable kind. She’d have to keep thinking to assess them all but the pit was bottomless, an Abyss in other words. She’d need TILE to escape it all but that was still in the future a bit, perhaps 7 days or weeks or years. Jane Space knew that the universe had corners and that was about it. Muff-Birmingham in one, the fabled 1/2 desert 1/2 jungle realm where she spent some of her formative years — forming. She recalls her pregnant mother in the spaciness. “There — that was me.” “I’m sorry, what?” came Newt’s reply, already given up on her and thinking about the next potential character-actor he could interview.
Wait… the next one was pregnant as well! Okay, okay, I think through him. Synchronicity, right. “Tell me, Jane — Jane, are you there, are you with me?” Jane sleepily answered affirmatively. “Tell me about your mother.”
—–
“Okay, so is this her?” he then asked after the teleport invite was accepted and bits actor Alessia appeared on the couch between them, needed googly eyes in place since she said none of her clothes fit now due to the weight gain. A similarly eye sized blue ball also appeared and Jane knew. Daddy.
“Yesss.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0107, Maebaleia/Satori, Wendy-Ontario
Sunklands 