Tag Archives: Jeffrie Phillips^*++++

home again

Marty walks into the Table Room of the Blue Feather in Collagesity. I realize he should be on the wall as well: The Beetles. Like seen in Picturetown crossing a road, minus one — I believe it was Ringold (the bastard).

He said he would be glad to join The Table even though he had a busy schedule, being a famous celebrity and all. He said he was referred by The Bill, which I didn’t originally take as the Illuminati but perhaps I should have a rethink about all that. And The Bill’s influence in it. Wheeler, when she was ruler of this here Collagesity, wore a little “Bill Hat” on her head after discovering the “Gravity Falls” character of the same name from a book procured by Baker Bloch. *That* was Illuminati tinged — the whole takeover of Collagesity thing from Carrcassonnee, the former deity/ruler. And Carrcassonnee *still* can’t be restarted, just going “Iiiiiii,” for the most part, although at that one, recent party she said a couple of things more until a quick regression.

Who is at The Table with us? Roger Pine Ridge should be here but he had yet another engagement with The Rainbow Sphere. I asked Marty if he knew about such a thing and if, theoretically, he could become similarly engaged if, say, the album was Sgt. Pepper instead of Dark Side. He admitted he could… and he did. I asked him to elaborate. He didn’t.

He lit a fire and began to smoke without asking, clear reference to Eraserhead Man. So I decided to query about “Twin Peaks” and if he knew my role in it. “Jefferson Thomas might know,” he responded cryptically. I thought about it; I realized the message. *I* am the Illuminati (as well?).

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0026, 0208, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

lone choice (cake eaters)

I thought I recognized you… *mother*. Now talk before my finger gets itchy.”

“Talk to Cory. Talk to Cory!” she defended herself, panicking to get out of the crosshairs.

She meant Austin of course. Austin knew everything, or at least a whole whole lot. Enough to survive any firing of questions.

Or was it Eckert. Peter?

Knowing mother most likely had an aunt or two packed away in her back pocket, Dinner Girl called for reinforcements, which meant W since no one else really wanted the job, none of the other cores that is. Plus she wanted to buy some clothes from the freebie stall this particular realtor of the lower central northeast sector of Corsica had set up ’round back, maybe a summer dress or a pair of sandals or a straw hat. Something that started with an S to go along with the hissing of summer snakes. So I guess we’re dealing with a Joanie.

Make that Hidi.

Dinner Girl covered her while she went around the corner to shop. Play before work, she always said.

As she perused the contents of a box full of swimsuits, red tie donned Jefferson Thomas studied her intently, wondering if she was a member of Pot-D or Pan-Z or perhaps both. Like himself.

“You there!” Dinner Girl called over, spotting the threat. “Back away from the hamburger girl!” Mother took the chance to hightail it out of here herself but was gunned down in crosswalk, a distraction that allowed JT to escape with the girl. Like they had it planned all along; sacrifice for the greater good and all.

—–

15 hours later, a rose holding bride posed for a picture outside the house across the road, just wedded again to the late great Jeffrey Phillips. “It was the only way to bring him back,” she lamented later to a broken-hearted Kolya back in Nautilus or thereabouts, his lemonade gone stale again.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0026, 0206, Corsica, Urqhart^

00260111

The *phone*, sir. Put the phone in the box.” Customs officer Wanda Raphael glanced over at fellow officer Wendell Sampson, having seen it all now. It was as if it was glued to his head.

“No no no, it has to be *lime*,” he insisted to the other party on the line. We’d seen him before, blue as FLY. Which he does, airplane or not. It was a moment frozen in time.

“Who is the pilot in this confusing story?” asked W, manifesting by my side. “Is it Tickie — is that his name? The blue fellow, perhaps the blue meanie?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly back. “There’s the problem of JOVIAL to deal with.”

“*Jeffrey Phillips*,” she exclaimed, remembering the Santa of the same disposition back in that other curiously resonant post. “He’s returned!”

“Maybe.”

“Who is the true ruler of Collagesity now?”

I let the question hang in the air like oxygen. I breathed deeply, taking it all in then exhaling. Calm the hell down, I remembered. I did recall that.

—–

Ship in the sky, plane in the air. I had that as well.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0026, 0111, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

Bushhhhh

I was told to meet him at the end of a long and dusty road. I said the name of the plant that appeared to be burning in front of me instead of the man.

“Nooooo,” he rasped. “I’mmm just *talllking* through thisss. Loookkk cloooosssser. Commme herrree.”

It was the voice of the father this time. I knew I was in deep doo doo trouble.

—–

“I remember how I got brain damage,” he said to her afterwards. “It was a fire; I got too close.”

“Good good,” she replied. “Now maybe those old wounds will heal — Can.” Only those quite close to him called him by that name, he remembered. She edged closer and gently touched the holey hair. Soon maybe no one else can get inside.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0026, 0109, The Waste^^

Dubya

“Yeah, sorry we got cut off back there. It’s just the kids –” (reply) “No, first it was this turtle, and then a f-cking witch came out of the ditch.” (reply/reprimand) “Oh… I didn’t know that.” (reply) “Wife, eh?”

“Just get over here,” he barked from the other side of the line. “And expect some kind of spell day before tomorrow’s Tuesday.” (*click*)

The situation was growing worse. Orange now.

—–

The green phone rang. The green phone never rang. He went over and stared at it, wanting it to stop. Green screens flashed all around, as if connected to the rings. It was just that important. Time to calm the hell down.

“Pick it up,” Ballpark Johnson urged from the back windows, staring out at landing passengers, this time with a plane. “It’s the only way to end this.”

Oh I see: a name. “Say my name and I’ll do it,” replied the khaki wearing man beside the phone, smart with book inside him. Anderson County. Now he knows how to build a rock wall a mile long if needed. Which it will.

“*Can*.” Close enough.

“Hello?”

“Pepi?” came the hoarse and raspy voice from the other side, as if beyond the grave.

“Who is this?”

“You – know who. Last time – we met — I was — jovial.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0026, 0108, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

00250703

“I like your gray hair.” It changes. “Oh, I mean, *black* hair.”

“Never mind that,” she waves off, still weeping a bit. She lays her head in her folded arms on the table. “I can’t (*sniff*) *believe* he’s *gone*.”

MAT pats her hand. “There there.” It’s something she did a lot for Jeffrey, especially when he woke up after one of his weird dreams. The memory makes her cry even more. We better postpone the post about her chat with MAT for another day.

Oh wait, she’s finished. She looks up, stares into MAT’s eyes. “I’m better (*sniff*). Yes,” she nods. “Better.” More nodding, like a bobble-head winding down. MAT withdraws his hand from hers, sensing he needs to do that. It starts wheels turning in Charlene’s head, though — the subtle pause. Was MAT interested in her? So soon after Jeffrey’s demise? How dare he! But maybe she’s just imagining it. She stares into his eyes. Very intelligent, yes, but very unformed. What would be a better word? Unfocused. *Fuzzy*. Blurred even, but perhaps that’s because of the remaining water in her eyes. She wipes them, looks again. Still a bit blurred, still a bit fuzzy. This was on MAT. How is he going to run a whole 1/8th sim town like that? she asks herself.

“How’s… (*small sniff*) Collagesity managing? I (*smaller sniff*) imagine the paperwork is piling up even higher than before, foot by foot.”

“One foot after another,” MAT recites, thinking back to leaving the subway and heading here. Spunky’s coffee bar, bought by Charlene the Punk from Rochelle the Spy in the Summer of ’98, which would be just last year, NWES Time Zone. She’d done a great job with it. “Money’s not great,” she admitted to Jeffrey Phillips just the week before last Wednesday’s Tuesday or thereabouts. So soon was he taken from us! “Come with me,” he then beckoned. “Come to Collagesity.” Oh, she was there some nights, and it always seemed the ones where he had those weird dreams. About this place called Pickleland, for example. Danny as a time traveling super scientist, ha! He can barely plunge a commode. Okay, he’s actually a pretty good janitor, Charlene admitted in her mind.

Man About Time had nodded off while Charlene thought about other stuff. He too was dreaming about Pickleland, and being in control again, fuzzy no more. Grandma loves him best of all, he knows, up there on the 7th level or whatever. Maybe 8th. But way up high, so no one could reach her. But him.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0025, 0703, Black Ice, NWES Island^

dream’s end

Of course I got lost in the maze that is my home. This happened even in childhood when I was more familiar with the place. But when I spotted the dummy with the red tie in the middle of the road I knew I was close. Me! They made me a martyr, just because I was special. The 5 were still inside of me all right, all taking orderly turns now, no fighting or jostling for top position. They’ve learned to cooperate. I’ve taught them well. Along with Miss Graham of course. I wonder where *she* is now?

Onward to the motel.

—–

The door was open. “Mom?” I called in.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0025, 0617, Hana Lei^^, The Waste^^

00250614

He was beyond the end of Route 13 now. He sensed a hole in the West here, something he couldn’t get to while corporeal. If he hadn’t wasted so much time chasing girls here and there, he lamented. But the Afterlife is all about regret, at the beginning. What could and couldn’t have happened, and so on. There’s always a gap between what occurred and the ideal, and a big one. Get ready for the shock. But the ideal still exists and that is the salvific force, the saving grace. The ideal *was* made flesh, and you can view it, you can penetrate it at points — non-corporeally of course, but also — sometimes — with real significance. And it is here in the West that Jeffrey Phillips decides he can start to make the changes he desires.

“Ahh, Barry DeBoy,” he says from his higher position, looking down. “Something about that island.” He penetrates.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0025, 0614, Collagesity Fordham, Crisp Sea, ENIGMA, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Wild West

man on the border

He could go anywhere, do anything. He truly had a bike now. But how to use this new found power. He’s decided to be a spiritual guide for the blog, for Collagesity perched up there on that beige ridge between Route 13, which he’s riding on currently, and Route 14 on the other side. Together (through the Wizard Cube): 25, or the number of letters subtract one. And that one could be him, hidden in form. He could be the true man behind the Wizard in Oz-speak, which is All-speak now for him. Because he knows Oz represents the Afterlife.

He bikes on, plotting on how to heal the Great Split. Brother against brother, friend against friend. It’s all going to end somewhere, and perhaps badly. But Nautilus can survive. If he places himself in the middle. And that could be an anchor for the rest.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0025, 0613, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

i feel a composition coming on (Montana)

He found his Alpheratz teleporter inside the skybox map and pulled it up to the blue surface. He was ready to let go. “Goodbye Nautilus,” he said, looking over all of it like a God himself in the instant. “Goodbye Collagesity,” he spoke, spotting its representative red pin on the beige ridge between highways 13 and 14 as well. “It seems I hardly knew ya.” Then he was gone. Outta here. Just like that. Teleported to parts unknown. Now Man About Time has his shot at running things. And he can bring Danny back too and his plunger, not the bathroom tool but the real one, the time one. Because, as I think I indicated or hinted at before, Danny knows a lot more than surface aspects of a hick janitor would indicate. He knows about Bill just to mention something in the instant. And his hatred of Billy Ray Cyrus, perhaps the ultimate hick who sired… Mabel? Maybe *she* thinks so.

—–

“Wheeler?” Mabel was surprised at the voice. She thought that old bridge had been burned down for good. “H-how are you?” Like she cared, but she tried to remain pleasant.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Listen, I just wanted to call you and let you know that Jeffrey Phillips died.”

“Who?”

“Jeffrey Phillips. (pause) I thought you knew him pretty well.”

“Oh, yeah, the *playboy*. Well, that’s a shame.” Mabel wanted to add, “anything else?” but held her tongue. Instead she smoothed the ruffles of her lime green dress.

“He took Baker Bloch’s place as ruler of Collagesity. When Baker went…”

“*Where* did *Baker* go?” Mabel suddenly was in a state of panic. She had to at least pretend to rebuild that old, burnt bridge and return. Baker must come back!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0025, 0612, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus