Tag Archives: Newt/Windmill Man^*++&

September 14, 2025 · 2:46 pm

00480116 (fallen)

He stared at the can, thinking about all the repercussions of what happened in UT recently. Some say he invented the object, but that was Can the character — different. And besides, [Pepi “Can” Kolya] had turned into Newt now, hadn’t he? (he thinks) Better. Able to smile and perhaps even laugh. A new centerpiece figure for the blog and attached photo-novels as a whole on the male side of things. Female? Well, still obviously dominated or ruled by Wheeler. Which reminds him… (STAND)

He’ll return to this Arang 32/225/94 seat for more thinking and pondering later. But for now he’s got to get to another 32/225 spot in a catty-corner sim to wait on daughter Alice, fresh from a land removed from such worries. Her lucky streak has just ended, though, he thinks. Wheeler was not *in* trouble but just trouble period. A little white lie sold to Alice so that she’ll come home and help him deal with her. She doesn’t like his red dress he got from the pawn shop, she doesn’t like the cans of bargain soda he brings home from the grocery store, she doesn’t like this that or the other thing. Difficult (!). Alice was always better than him with handling her moods. And now she’s coming back. Yes, little white lie justified. She’ll get over it soon enough.

“I guess I’ll just stand right in the middle of the road here so she can’t miss me,” he mutters when teleporting in to the second 32/225 of the day. “Just don’t hit me!”

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September 10, 2025 · 8:32 am

00480113

“I guess it was inevitable you show up.” He pauses as he looks over at his oft-times wife, now a ratcatcher complete with backpack cage with a couple of rats in it already. But not of the right kind.

“Yeah, I was attracted by the literal version but disappointed. No one home.”


Earlier: *Knock knock knock.* “Hello?! Anybody here?!”

“Soo now… an actual hole,” said Newt. Both stared over at it, Ratcatcher (aka Wheeler) with her useless rat catching devices for the job and Newt with his useless fishing rod apparently, just slung under his shoulder for looks by the look of it.

—–

She waved goodbye to him but he was already gone. Too laggy for him to stay logged on too while she entered. But not the fault of the sim. Probably my modem or something. Router. Anyway… inside.

—–

Eventually she found CENTER.

And directly above — still at center, mind you — a pawn shop named Escape with a browser named not Rat but Mouse. Doctor too.

That might be it, she thinks while panning up and peering into it.

“How much for this red dress here?” Mouse asks Wanda the shop attendant, pointing toward the object with his cane to indicate desire per usual.

In synchronicity, she then spots a blood stained hand poking out from a split bag of trash.

(to be continued)

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September 8, 2025 · 6:14 am

00480110 (Juice)

We stuck around to hear Julee Cruise since, you know, when would we get the opportunity again? Since she was dead and all. Oft-times hubby Newt and I had polished off a couple of beers by then. I checked the watch now on my arm. 2:41 AM. Time to head home, though, I suppose. While we could make our way.

She sang one last time about the Tennessee dog and bird and we were away.

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September 7, 2025 · 8:16 am

00480108

The band was already playing when we walked to the bar counter, started asking loud questions over the noise. “Anyone here by the name of Tom?!” I began. “Maybe a doctor or something?!”

The bartender looked confused at first, as if attempting to process the request. His eyes rolled upwards a bit, then he said, “Tom, you say?!”

“Yeah!” I shouted back. “Maybe a doctor?!” I reinforced the second part.

“There was!… here, let’s go outside and I can talk better! Joe, hold down the bar for just a minute!” What appeared to be the barback — bartender’s assistant — didn’t look too happy, but then moved to a customer who had just approached the counter and took an order. He seemed to know what he was doing.

Outside we got a lot of information from Harry, who also told us that Tom was a Dick. Tom Cruise, as it turns out. Like Julee but different.

(to be continued)

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September 4, 2025 · 1:19 pm

00480106 (pets pet)

I’d like to think this is my family. Father mother son.

And over there where the mother is staring? Baederwood. I have that much.

Now to find Dr. Tom who has information about the 2 Hills. Maybe a gardener too?

Let’s start here.

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August 28, 2025 · 6:05 pm

00470616

“Soo, decision time, reunited family of mine. Which New Island is New…

“… and which is Old?” But in staring at the screen before Wheeler, Shelley and Eddy, the answer becomes obvious to presenter Newt; right in front of his face. Daughter Shelley’s black and white dream island, the one she wrote the novel “Hmm” about to promote, is the old one. And the colorful Our Second Lyfe version, virtual but also more real in that way, is New. And they’re linked through Barnaby (Point), an artist colony and perhaps the place Shelley actually settles down in after a stint at Hazel and which could turn into Shelley’s true home… *in each,* her own place apart from Leeman or Leemon the creator of it all. A place that can be *her* creation too. Co-creator she can become. Together moving forward, one energizing the other. Like a game of tennis. Back to you!

END OF “SUNKLANDS 2025 MIDDLE”!

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August 23, 2025 · 1:14 pm

00470610

Trying to keep my head above the water.

7 6 posts to go! Will I make it by the end of August?? We’ll return here (MISTY-MO), but probably not in the current photo-novel. Must end with an N, soo… back to Nawt Vaya!

—–

“We’ve halfway lost Greg Ogden; and Philip Strevor, Lexi [insert last name], and Nada New Year are also fading out around the table here. We have to do something, Newt! Nawt Vaya is in peril!

“And finish whatever needs to be done by 7 so we won’t miss any of our TV viewing time!” *click*

—-

Soon Newt manifests high in Frank’s Moving Castle again, far above Wheeler and her vanishing troupe of avatars down in the entrance room. He inserts the magical glass of freshly squeezed lemonade from an unblighted Juho citrus tree he brought along with him into the face of the fire and backs away.

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August 21, 2025 · 8:00 pm

00470608

“Atomic energy,” Newt theorizes about the main way Gaston’s Newton revamped his now deceased older brother Stewart’s sim skipping ship. “Put it at the end of Barry De Boy’s ‘Does This Look Square to You?’ series. Claimed to be named for Isaac Newton but Jasper County’s right below and so instead it should be John.”

“John Newton, twin sergeant to William Jasper during the Battle of Ft. Moutrie in the Civil War,” Newt’s ever-partner Wheeler says more to the reader than anyone, since Newt knows all that. “And Newton County MS being the only county in the state that’s totally square. One Mississippi, two Mississippi — woops. Forgot the zero (!)”

“You finished?” Newt asks from the sacred ottoman under the sacred 4 colors add 4 more. Staring at giant versions of bread and milk on a big tin of perhaps choco chip cookies. Wheeler from the now not as sacred couch was staring at it too.

“Yeah. You go now.”

“I go now,” accepted Newt. “Wellll… we have a problem, a conundrum. We have Marion, Hucka, Philip, Nada, Lexi and probably Greg coming to Nawt Vaya here through that sim skipping ship.”

“Yeah? What’s the problem? They’re *here*. All of them. Except Marion and Hucka it seems.”

“But–”

“No butts. Continue.”

(to be continued)

“OH, I remember what we were going to talk about. This *couch*. And the bread and milk. And the whole location for Crooked.”

“Yeah,” says Newt. “Is this room, this building, actually here in Nawt Vaya, or is it over in Gaston? Could be both of course. But, what I’m asking is…”

“… which one’s more real?”

(to be continued)

“More real there.” Newt pauses. “Did I just skip over the end of the post?

—–

The couch is more comfortable and has more animations.

The bread and milk are normal sized.

The room has more character.

More real there, yeah. We continue….

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August 14, 2025 · 1:29 pm

00470602

He’d fallen off the ladder 5x now trying to reach his new Newtown apartment. And that girl in the window giggling at him all along. That’s *it*, he said to himself while landing on the ground again then dusting himself off while rising — unharmed of course, because no fall will ever hurt you in Our Second Lyfe, no matter from what height. At least the way it *should* be designed, with everyone always playing in God Mode. Let’s hope that doesn’t change too. But he’s fed up with the situation. He decides then and there that he can’t stay in Newtown, no matter how cheap Rag Doll’s provided rental unit is. It just doesn’t fit. He has to go… home.

He teleports one last time into the sparse white 3rd story apartment, doors to a small bathroom and bedroom on the left. Unfurnished except for a dresser and that old couch over there, and heck if he’s gonna try to lug Wheeler’s 16 prim canopy bed up that gall blasted ladder, pheh. Maybe they can rent a crane; that would take care of the piano too. But — NO. He’s decided.

He moves toward the window, watches a grocer finish unloading his truck of supplies while a similarly colored woman beside him tends to her crying baby. Nice view from here, he admits. Hmm.

He settles back on the pretty comfy couch, choosing to read a bit of daughter Shelley’s newly published novel called “The Hmm” he just received today in the, er, mail before making a *final* final decision. He’s glad he did. Because he’s in it… making that final final decision.

(to be continued)

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August 13, 2025 · 8:17 pm

00470601 (The Hmm)

“I live in a very white house starting with a white roof you can clearly see from the air — why I made it that way.

“Um, white ceiling fans…

“… white power outlets.

“White paint all around. Every room, every piece of furniture, every piece of art even. I like white. And, hopefully, my family likes it *too*. They haven’t complained *so* far (laugh).”

“Soo, ahem, back to The Hmm.”

“Oh yeah (laugh). The Hmm. Well, we logically suspected the new gas compressor station across the rails — really white buildings over there and I respect that but, you know (laugh), I had to get to the bottom of this thing (!). So I went over there one day, complained that we were hearing that dad blasted hmm in my house over 400 yards away, and it seemed, well, it seemed to be affecting our health (!). And, you know, could they DO something about it? I was sure they were the culprit, the source of it all. And you know what they said, they blamed everything else. Electrical lines, the railroad, water pumps in a nearby pond, Interstate 84. Could be any of these… and more. But not *gas lines*. And they laughed right in my face! (laugh). And me a retired mechanical engineer. Heck, I probably knew how their operations worked better than 80% of them over there. Not as much difference between machines and chemicals as you’d think.”

“Understandable that you were irritated,” I tried to empathize. “Is that when you decided to move away? To someplace new?”

“Well, the wife and I thought, maybe we should try out a new town to get away from the sound. ‘New town’ we kept saying to each other when discussing it — over and over. And then it hit us: Newtown. The town right next door to us. We could start new; fresh. It seemed *fate*. I told her, honey, our house is just off the Newtown topo map, which I knew from my hmm research in the local area. But shortly I realized the gas compressor station was actually just *on* the Newtown map, which seemed to be a bad sign. No, the hoped for sanctuary turned out to be *much* much further away, not one but *several* oceans away. It all started that very next day, when I found the drawing of the woman running on the beach at a Newtown flea market while we were checking out the place. Giselle, ha, was actually a bit jealous of my obsession with the drawing, with *her*. It was the whiteness, you see.”

“We’re talking about New *Island* here, right?” I suppressed a joke about him skipping right over New York.

“Yeah. Our brief dream of living in Newtown only pointed to this actual new place where we could truly escape the problems with The Hmm. By being immersed in it!”

“You found the source.”

“Indeed we did (!!).”

“Not gas lines?”

“(Laugh) No, but that’s part of it too. It all came from that novel. By the girl.”

(to be continued)

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