Tag Archives: No Lag^^+++++

October 5, 2026 · 2:40 pm

00520114 (triplet form)

“Funny how I’m talking to you in my head… in the Body. Maybe I should have met you up top instead.” Smiling Shelley points to her own heart then moves her finger up to her own head. No Lag smiles back yet still remains quiet. “How’s your love life,” Shelley thinks to ask. Why not? This starts her up, gas suddenly in her tank.

“Tony B. is ggreat, a real tiger.” In bed, is the unspoken ending to that sentence. Like Kellogg’s cereal mascot minus the sex, another tiger.

“But… Tony is *my* boyfriend.”

“Dreamy isn’t it.”

Shelley had had enough of that imaginary conversation. She looks around the Body for other things of interest. No Lag vanishes into the background again, her lines done. Lions, tiger. Bear with me. tbc

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October 5, 2026 · 2:40 pm

00520113

She sits down in a seat near the center and starts thinking about Okama; her old band Mosquitoes rebranded as Silver; the former members Don and… No Lag! She hadn’t interacted with the classically trained guitarist in maybe one full photo-novel, a long time down here as opposed to up there. 8 1/2 times longer our user Baker Bloch has determined in his wise guy ways. They were on stage together, she recalled. Then she turned toward the guitarist, let forth a brutal hook kick that booted her out of the band as symbolic united with literal. She hadn’t seen her since that day in late April’s May. And they’ve been rock’n ever since, Okama and her. “Beatles over Beethoven,” she shouted once or twice after the conversion, always thinking about that kick when she did. “One and done one and done!” she also cried that one time. Twice. In her mind, No Lag magically manifested on the couch over there, ready to discuss the situation anew.

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October 5, 2026 · 2:39 pm

00520112

Duck clad, duck protected Shelley stares through the triangle provided at the top of the ramp and recognizes the metallic pink car in the distance. It’s from the same stacked piles of old autos she and fellow Silver band member Okama Majo perched on top of about 15 posts back and contemplated the removal of the tip from the other sand edifice in town viewed in the distance, the male to complement the female — much like in Okama Majo’s body itself.

She then thinks she hears a single cry from below — human. Spooked at first, she rationalized that it must have been the effects of wind produced when she turned away from the car. Yes that must be it, she solidifies in her mind, just like No Lag solidified a banana immediately below her in order to say *SORRY* once more.

Down the next ramp she goes. Into the heart of the thing. tbc

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October 4, 2026 · 10:11 pm

00520111

Completio. Yellow to red to blue to green to make our way back to yellow to both end and begin it all again. Waterfall stairs.

—–

“Tony. I- I feel like we don’t exist here any more, like the town has gone completely bananas. Like we’re fading into the same colored backdrop of our lives. Like — like we don’t exist here any more.”

She rolls over after no response from the other side of the bed. “Tony? Tony dear? Where’d you go?” Then she stares up from the inactive blue ball beside her at the big banana shaped pillow and starts to remember. They’re still in the jail cell. They never left.

“Tony!” she speaks to it, voice returned to default shouting mode. “I’m so sorry I did this to you!” *SOB*

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May 9, 2026 · 2:17 pm

00500210

Turns out there was already a band called The Mosquitoes that appeared on “Gilligan’s Island” during the 60’s so Shelley decided to return the name Silver to her own band, reverting them to the Silver Mosquitoes. “Never mind the ‘Gilligan’s Island’ band was mythical and not real,” she said to anyone who cared at the time. “It’s still something that people might remember and then get confused about. We’re *not* mythical, he he he.” They were primarily a Beatles cover band here so Shelley thought the addition back of Silver was appropriate in that way too, further tribute to what she and all other members of her present band, save one, thought of as the greatest rock group of all time and who were, yes, once known as the Silver Beetles before they gained fame and notoriety and substituted an A for an E in the remaining part of their name. They weren’t on that level, she knew. They may never grow out of their Silver phase, cover band forever. But she still had plans. Was the lone non-Beatles fan No Lag still a part of that? We’ll perhaps see in parts 03-06 or 07 if not the present one. Back to the action… TBC


passing back of the “silver band”

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April 27, 2026 · 8:45 pm

00500204

Daisy spotted the problem right off. No Lag simply didn’t show up well against bar owner Bull’s chosen backdrop. And she knew he wouldn’t change it. Stubborn as a… well, you know. Daisy dared to voice the issue to No Lag; after all, who else was there to run the place. Bull was always “away”. Wheeler was she and she was Wheeler. So she felt she had no choice but to act.

“No Lag,” she said to her, approaching the stage from her usual behind-the-bar position. No customers right now. Rehearsals for No Lag’s band still. “You’ve got classical nailed, I admit.”

“‘Classical Gas!'” issued No Lag to Daisy about the last tune she played, which even contained the word in its name. Her hearing was worn out because of all the gigs down through the years; she can’t tell what level she speaks to people any more. So she usually just defaults to shouting.

“Good, nice.” Great, actually, thought Daisy. But she had to bring things down, *act* like she was kind of pleased but not super pleased about the music, the strumming. “You… the backdrop,” she got to the core of the situation.

And with this, No Lag just faded into it, her story no longer vital for the present photo-novel. Or at least the present section 02 of 06 or possibly even 07 (although a 7th hasn’t happened in a while, perhaps 3 or 4 back by now). Spotlight on lead singer Shelley instead. She simply took over… everything.

And new mesh feet ta boot! She decided to kick classically constrained No Lag to the side and take the band in a solid rock direction, changing the name from Silver Mosquitoes to just Mosquitoes. They became a steady buzz after that in the music industry. Not sure if keyboardist/DJ Okama Majo was kept but it’s a good possibility since he’s only partially obscured in the above photo. *Photo*-novel we’re in after all. 1/2 the story in theory, with one feeding off the other to make, hopefully, a new whole. It seems to be working (!). Getting back into it…

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April 10, 2026 · 12:30 pm

00500114

“Okay, Father Fecked. Wake up. Time to go home.”

Father Fecked stirs from his slumber. “Hrmmmph,” he says, bottle still in hand. Always. Along with the cane in the other one.

“You’ve got to go, Fecked,” reiterates Daisy Flathead, running her bar again but underwater this time. Bull’s Bar. She’s just a manager this go around, with Bull aka “Yellow Jack” being the owner. But she’s okay with it. For now.

Father Fecked stretches, yawns. “Hrrrrrrrrrummmph.” Smacking of lips. He looks around, just realizing where he is. Oh yeah, had to crash here, he understands through the brain fog. Nowhere to stay. “I– have—”

“You haven’t got a place to go, yeah I know,” says Daisy. “Frank and I have solved that for you. You can return to the castle. You can have your old bedroom. Just—” Daisy stops here, decides not to mention the drinking, the night wandering around the castle. *Their* room that one time; Fecked and Philip *both*.  And they can’t lock the door; have to keep it phantom so *they* can enter. Stupid, primitive castle, she sometimes laments. But it’s such a nifty vintage build. There are advantages to old too.

More smacking of lips. Finally he makes eye contact with her. “My… *bedroom*?”

“Yes, Fecked. You can go back. You can return… home.” Hard to say that word for her. *Their* home, ugh.

Smacking of lips, looking around, then eye contact again. “Home?”

“Yeah. I just need to clear you out of the bar tonight. No Lag’s playing in a couple of hours and the place should get pretty packed. *Hopefully*. Because, you know, I need the money. Sea Monster set me back you see.” She starts cleaning the beer glasses “Go on, now. Shooo.”

“No… Lag,” he manages in his gruff way, turning toward the stage.

“Yeah, the local genius guitarist. Haven’t heard her yet. But she’s popular. Drew in over 35 at The Burg last weekend, almost broke the sim. She’s a known commodity, as they say.”

Meanwhile…

“We’ve thrown in this bed — just like ours, guys. I think you’ll like some of the new moves, he he.”

Philip looks around. “But where will I take my wees?” Now that the castle’s big tongue is gone, is the unspoken part of his question. Philip loves to dangle his willy off its tip and pee into the landscape below.

“Grass,” Frank instructs while waving. “All around.”

Philip decided that would have to do, or Nada did for him, eagerly eyeing the bed. TBC

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December 27, 2024 · 4:19 pm

00450402 (eclipsed)

Looking across the ruins of the Candy Shoppe — destroyed by Jack the Dogg back in section 02 — toward the Big Victorian House with the LSD Dream Emulator mini-museum we just saw his cohort Fink the Humann sitting in. To its left in the picture we have the Wheeler managed Bull’s Bar, still dutifully guarded by a version of Grant Price also reseen in the current photo-novel. He’s now working as a janitor in a Liberty City Burger Shot after a 10 year stint in prison, his days as head of SecuroServe long behind him. But some old colleagues are about to refind him and lure him back into a life of crime which ended his security agency career. We’ll see how that develops soon.

Let’s move inside now…

Further…

Alright that’s close enough.

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May 6, 2024 · 2:05 am

00420612

It took a supreme effort for him to break away from the Big E or, alternately Big Schwa always sitting in the middle of his Aisle of Palms’ Kidd Tower dining table, ready for further examination and scrutiny. But he did it; returned to his hometown and his Bach/Reger/Kajiura played on a silver cello purchased in the Isle of Love. He played to his loving doll Mob (pronounced: Mobe), who listened with rapt attention as usual.

Good ol’ Mob. He misses her when he’s away… plus the cats big and small of course. And he just f-ing needed to get away from the band for a while. No Lag was pushing them in a classical direction, Shelley was pushing them in a rock direction, Don just wanted everyone to call hogs like him, like the kid he is. Be like me! he indicated all the time with his actions and speech. But bar manager Martha Lamb wanted him there as a kind of front man and bar owner Bull Dragon (or Dragon Bull; *not* Ball Dragon or Dragon Ball, though) went along with it, seeing the appreciative crowds. Maybe they’re getting *too* big, too popular, thought Okama not once but a considerable number of times in the last week as they did nightly gigs to growing audiences. Poor opening act Marsha “Pink” Krakow who wanted to be a Ball herself wasn’t hacking it, though. He felt sorry for her, was *envious* of her even. Furniture comedy, he speculated at the time, watching her perform only for the ogling Thompson Twins if anyone at all. Like Satie had his furniture music. “Pay no attention to us musicians,” the eclectic Frenchman spoke to audiences of his day, over 100 years ago, so far ahead of his time. He said to just enjoy the pieces of the art gallery they were playing at, and so on. And so it is with Marsha but in a kind of reverse way. “Just enjoy the musicians on the stage over there; pay no attention to me,” she seems to broadcast lately. A conceptual art comedy piece in the style of Kaufman or maybe Hicks. But certainly not like iconic 50s star Lucille Ball as she originally desired, one of the greatest of all female performers period. This was undesired art but maybe she’s seeing the irony of it. He’ll have another word with her about the whole, er, *concept* when he gets back. But he needs to stay here for at least a week to calm his nerves. He needs to stay away from the Kidd (Tower) and he needs to stay away from the kid (Don).

Knocks downstairs. Wendy has arrived at her destination. Confrontation time; brace yourself Okama!

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May 2, 2024 · 11:50 am

00420608 (kenbaiki (ticket to ride))

She’d seen enough of Castle Town for now. She was buying a sky ferry ticket back to Kangerootown from whence she came. She’d heard through the grapevine that keyboardist/DJ Okama Majo had returned to his cat house there, taking his own break from Aisle of Palms and the Dream Emulator band he’s part of with classically trained guitarist No Lag V, hog calling kid Don without a last name, and animated singer Shelley Johnston Struthers who has 3 to make up for it and who specializes in Lennon songs like “Strawberry Fields” and “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” and the like. But despite that, Okama named the band, not her. All because of his artistic hero Osamu Sato, so close to his own. Too close. Shelley’s found that out too. “You’re *him*,” she said recently during an acid drop sponsored by LSD, tripping the light fantastic and drawing truth from every corner of the universe, only to forget the vast vast majority of it later, of course. Gray Man works in all dimensions when you’re on that stuff; perpetual darkness. Must – stay – away, she thought to herself afterwards. No more sheets.


on her way!

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