Tag Archives: Jeffrie Phillips^*++

January 17, 2021 · 7:11 pm

goodbye hello

“We reached a dead end in NWES City, my love, future present past.”

“We did,” agreed Charlene Brown the punk beside him in the car at the center of the new city, whatever he or she or they decide to call it. Maybe just New Town.

“Oh… look over there, dearest. Another Happy Travels office, just like in…”

“Don’t say it, sweets. Let’s put that name behind us, move on to the new. New Town?” she then guessed, mirroring my thoughts.

“Anyway, there it is… again. Probably the portal to Gaston once more as well.”

“Don’t use it,” wisely advised Charlene. “Seal that up too. Let Barry X. Vampire the writer and, heck, Barry Deboy the artist deal with it if they wish.”

“Are the Barrys still around?” I ask through Jeffrie Phillips, borrowing his voice for the moment.

Charlene shook her head, but not as a denial. Instead: “Not our problem.”

“And a MacDonald’s,” Jeffrie joked when looking more behind them. Funny.


Official Guy Linden Temple in “New Town”.

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January 17, 2021 · 7:11 pm

another

“I just want a place to disappear to, Jeffrie. Maybe this *twin* to our NWES City will do the trick…”

“For a while,” Jeffrie Phillips reinforced from his position opposite Charlene “Punk” Brown at the Static Social Lounge next to the *other* local Red gallery besides the Red Umbrella. This was another indication that they were in the right spot. “What are you going to call it?”

“The City? Oh, I don’t know, I’ll think of something.”

“*We’ll* think of something.” They sat in silence for a while after that, taking in the new sights and sounds.

They even had a view of the harbour (Canadian) just beyond the gallery.

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January 12, 2021 · 3:53 pm

Green *Yarn*

I dreamed the snow was butterflies.

Wake up, wake up, wake *up*.

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January 11, 2021 · 9:33 am

chameleon

“Her name is Sandy,” Camouflage responded about the white-ish squirrel cautiously approaching them. Sometimes she gave her acorns off another sim, an exotic dish. Squirrels don’t forget. “Like a pickle.”

“Pickle?” questioned Jeffrie Phillips by her side, out of his tuxedo and into his regular duds. This must mean it’s the present.

“You know, a sandy pickle, to contrast with a regular green one. An exotic pickle. Surely you have sandy colored cucumbers in your time period.”

“Time period?” Jeffrey Phillips questioned again.

—–

I’ll just skip to the part where they talk about the sim they’re in, and how it got its name. “Wabd,” responded Camouflage about an original appellation, as exotic as the white-ish squirrel approaching them again.

“Green Yard?”

“Green *Yarn.* And here we are. You must wake up again, and for real this time, Mr. Jeffrie Phillips. You are dreaming too much. You lay in your comfy bed with that woman who hasn’t been clearly identified and listen to that tv static and sleep sleep sleep. If you, say, got up in the middle of the night…”

“I don’t do that,” he said firmly. “I had an uncle who did that. Was into synchronicities. Said they were strongest in the middle of the night. I’d rather be blanketed in a bed of safe white tv static than deal with all that…” Should he say “nonsense” here? Pink Floyd? Bigfoot wearing a hot pink mini dress? It all didn’t add up. Except there *was* Charlene. “I think I’m ready to wake up again.”

“Good, cool,” responded Camouflage out of a permanently wine stained mouth shaped exactly like a regular glass of wine, Merlot most likely. “When you wake up, you’ll know who you’re with.”

Jeffrie Phillips was hoping now it was Charlene, although he guessed it wasn’t.

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January 9, 2021 · 10:36 pm

the path veers away from The Diagonal here

I sat at the Dread Wolf statue. 225, 225. Right on it. I tried not to be scared by the wolves. Luckily the black one was furthest away. Black Dog… reminding me of The Crossroads and my decision long long ago. Tully: I recall.

The Fire Tree, Wonder Years lost. Ignition. The moon is made of cheese.

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January 9, 2021 · 10:36 pm

00240211

“I was on the Diagonal next to the Not Quite Gazebo, named so because it wasn’t (quite on the Diagonal). The moon was made of cheese. I try to transfer to the tower which I *know* is on the Diagonal but can’t quite reach the center (Diagonal). Instead: on one of the edge seats. The moon is not made of cheese. I wake up, still looking from the point of the Not Quite.”

“And then the lane,” spoke [delete name]. “Cherry Lane.”

“No, that was something different. In the land of Hana Lei.”

“Which is a catch all name for locations that you don’t want to list out.” Silence for a second, as if Jeffrie Phillips was checking this fact (he was). “Yes… but no. I mean, it wasn’t Cherry Lane on the Diagonal. Instead a path through a clearly haunted or haunting woods filled with wolves, especially at the bend where the path or trail leaves the Diagonal. That was before the Not Quite Gazebo. I wasn’t Peet Archer. I wasn’t wearing the tuxedo to indicate I was Young Kane who was never called that (strangely).”

“Go on.”

“I was…”

“Blue Thorn?” guessed [delete name].

“I can’t recall,” responded Jeffrie Phillips, thinking hard. He was pounding a fist into his skull three times. Then three more. He recalled. “Niagara. Peet Archer was at the top. I put him there. I was…” Again a stall. The 1898 room was powerful that way — squelched speech. He wondered again who was beside him in that room while he dreamed. Someone from Hana Lei perhaps.

“Go on, Jeffrie. Do you need some water? Do you want to continued another night? We can wake up at any time. I clap my hands three times, and then three more.” He clapped his hands three times and then three more.

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January 4, 2021 · 3:20 pm

Great White North

Hunter symbolically caged up on his wee island, ready to be let loose upon the world again. “Where’s that castle. where’s that castle, where’s that castle?” he yelps anxiously while leaking within, so much so that his front leaning feet are a bit submerged in water now. “2 feet, 2 feet, 2 feet!” he continued, more anxious than ever to leave this wet spot.

—–

Tech Support: “Have you tried turning it off and on again.”

“Oh… there it goes. Now… about installing Adobe Photoshop…”

—–

This tie smells so GOOD. I still can’t believe there’s 5 people inside there. And now… the bowtie. That’s 3 more!”

“Right,” answers Jeffrie Phillips to his on again off again girlfriend and sometimes wife Audrey, back for a picture or 3. “Best of both words, Pot-D and Pan-Z. The 3 to 5 ratio indicates a female to male polarity, but the, er, *spirits* within can be of either male or female persuation. It’s more an energy thing. An abstract concept.”

“Sooo fascinating.” Audrey looks around the area, sees only the gnome continuing to get tech advice from the owl. They seem engrossed in what they’re doing. She sneaks a kiss, hoping for more. A kiss on the tie, like she’s smooching 6 instead of just the one. And then she moves up to the bowtie (*smack*). 9 now! And then to her true and real lover’s lips even farther north, just over the edge (of the collar). She keeps pecking and pecking while talking about Canada. “If we move to Picturetown (*smooch*), we can take all of them (*smack*) with us and not have to worry (*kiss*) about the coming swamp monster.”

“I’m not scared of water monsters,” replied Jeffrie Phillips, wondering which direction Murdoch’s castle was from where they sat. But then he remembered all he had to do was follow the yelps of (quickly submerging?) Hunter nearby.

Hunter will save them. Hunter will save us all. He was trained for this moment in history. If he can just get off that wee island of his.

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January 4, 2021 · 7:35 am

Unhappy

It all started again with the formation of Thornwood. Thornwood exists: I exist, the Rose be damned. But that was the problem. I couldn’t find the roses again because of the thorns. This was an existential dilemma. Rosehaven also did not exist now. Instead: Rose Heaven. Witch Hazel *must* be suppressed (!). She could destroy this queendom-kingdom with a single, steely glance of those evil, dead white eyes. Powerful.

I clutch my Philip Linden doll even tighter. I miss my daddy, *sigh*.

“Don’t you think,” I can hear Tessa in my head (if not in reality, at least currently), “that the truth lies in the ruined village now partially in Thornwood?” I realized this was just me reflecting back to me, but it helped.

The background sound of static. I knew I was back in Room 1898, sleeping in that oh so comfy bed of ours. Tilists — always with the static at night. I wake up (let’s say). Who is beside me? Charlene the Punk? Probably not — (she was) several girls ago. Probably that girl Gigi who hangs around the bar all the time. Just like me. Whatever’s handy at the moment. But I mustn’t wake up, must dream a little longer. I unclutch the doll pillow and turn its face toward me. “What would Philip Linden do?” I ask it. Slot Mountain! came the answer in my own enlarged skull.  I hadn’t thought of that slitted peak and attached haunted castle in a long time. Not since…

Time is all mixed up for me now. I know I’m dreaming but it’s even worse than that, because when I wake up, it will still be all wonky, like Willa. Hey, I could use that (expression) in my memoirs: Wonky like Willa. Slip in some more comments about chocolate and sweets in general to balance things out. Maybe delete that section about arsenic; too much of a downer, like the barbiturate section I eliminated previously. But here I am, wasting precious dream time on my memoir planning. I try to see who is in the bed with me. I’m clutching my Philip doll again, still in the dream.

Behind me, the square piece of land representing Illyria slides up and Thornwood appears in the gap, but brown instead of white like the others. Winter hasn’t come yet, at least not here in the yarn shop. Yarn Shop! Rosehaven? How did I get here?

Wormholes. Must — control — the — wormholes.

I can’t see Green at all now.

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January 4, 2021 · 7:34 am

end of the tale

“I was still just a young guy at the time. Young Kane young guy.”

“They called you Kane?” Tessa tried to clarify about Jeffrie Phillips’ past. He’d regained the ability to talk and she wanted to try to get as much info as possible out of him before a potential recurrence.

“They called me many names. Sometimes Kane, sometimes Old Kane, even though I wasn’t — as stated — and then…”

“Young Kane?” Tessa ventured.

“No, never that. Odd in retrospect. Then Kane yielded to Spankey yielded to Michael yielded to Clark yielded to Woody. It was a whole county full of names, really. And, yes, now I recall about the Kane name. It was short for Hurricane. My actual name was Rainey, and I had a stormy personality.”

Tessa looked at her watch, felt the back of her tired neck. “We better get to the Borderlands again.”

“Right, so I was standing there, in my tuxedo which I always wore in my younger days, clutching my Philip doll — as always, or as usual.”

“We might get into that later on. About the trail…”

“Bunny trail, yes. So I saw one carrot, and the one carrot led to the next carrot led to the next carrot… kind of like the trail of my names from the past.”

“You said something about the Blue Rose,” Tessa said, trying to speed things up. “About *that* particular name.”

“The carrots led right by them. I was on my way.”

“To… where?”

“The Bunny Trail leads…” He suddenly ground to a halt. Someone was preventing him from speaking further about this subject!

He remembered, but he couldn’t say.

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January 3, 2021 · 11:05 am

00240111

“First she met with Blue Thorn, who explained why he dropped the Rose along with the Thorn.”

“But he’s still ‘Thorn’,” replied [name removed to simplify].

“Right. I meant throne there.”

“Throne. Okay. That makes more sense.”

“And then the wars were brought up. The wars that are still going on now. The past is the present. At least in the Thorn Room.”

“And then Casey One Hole?”

“Yes, he showed up next. They’d moved to the bar by then. Or Tessa had. He has links all around.”

“He’s certainly ever-present,” responded [delete name].

“And then Stumpy, moved over here from Moe’s bar seemingly.”

“Who’s in charge of Moe’s now? [delete name] logically asked, being a [delete job title]. “Is it Moe again? I thought he was dead. Or maybe I’m just thinking he retired. Oh… Karl showed up… I remember now. Another 1/2 and 1/2 situation.”

“That are coming up more frequently.”

“1/2 and 1/2,” joked [delete name], to no laughter. Okay: 1/2 and 1/2 again. Baker chuckled a little bit.

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