Tag Archives: Peter Oesso^*++

March 19, 2026 · 10:23 pm

00490613

Leftover maps, Arkansas and Kentucky.

Arkansas first — Pope County.

Relevant names so far: Solo, Gabriel, Russellville, Pottsville, Scottsville, Alpha

Relevant info: Solo + Gabriel as in Peter Gabriel’s solo career where he escapes Lamb (Genesis’ towering achievement “The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway” double concept album) via, originally, the single “Solsbury Hill”. Pottsville as in Gorillaz’s 2-D whose last name is Pot without the extra T, Scottsville reinforcing Pottsville by being directly north of it. Russellville as in Gorillaz’s Russel without the extra L. Alpha down at the bottom already paired with just off the map Omega in this here photo-novel to represent core avatar Wheeler who was created last but has become the first in importance, the heart of the process.

Kentucky next — Hopkins County. A direct continuation.

Relevant names this time: Silentrun, Mortons Gap, Anson, Ansonia, Hanson.

Relevant info this time: Silentrun Ck. is alternately named Lambs Ck., as in Gorillaz’s “Silent Running” video with 2-D wearing a Lamb t-shirt and being sacrificed as such by the Forever Cult to their underground Lord of Darkness. This is Gabriel who didn’t escape Lamb and remained with the Genesis band. Mortons Gap as in the location of one of Barry De Boy’s “Does This Look Square to You?” series of collages seen in section 05 I believe. A stand-in for my last personal collage ever, perhaps, also directly related to Genesis (using “Foxtrot” album cover coming a bit before “Lamb”). Ansonia as in Charles Anson, similar to Gorillaz’s Manson and likewise a hater of the band he use to work for and trying to prevent them from forming in the first place through some kind of time machine, with similar names Anton and Hanson nearby to reinforce the association.

Getting that out of the way we can continue…

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March 19, 2026 · 7:49 am

00490610 (killing time)

“Still naked from skinny dipping, we’ll say now, he wakes up in his Silver Lake apartment and stares at the silver band passed to him, now on his arm and acting like a bracelet. He realizes an engraving on it is a knight’s move in chess, H6 to G4.

“Another code on the back side eventually points to a map related to The Legend of Zelda video game from an old Nintendo magazine he happens to possess. The third ingredient for solving this puzzle comes in the form of another map found in a vintage cereal box, of L.A. this time. Also found in his apartment — what are the odds? He superimposes real — L.A. — upon fantastical — LoZ — and marks out a grid of A-P and 1-8…

“‘H6,’ he says, circling the 1st indicated square with a marker. ‘Ahh, Silver Lake! And G4, let’s see. Yes. Mt. Hollywood. Sarah, my vanished dream girl, must be somewhere around the sign!’

“He head up there the next day and uncovers the Forever Cult below a blocked out part of Google Maps. After finding out that Sarah is alive but sealed inside a tomb, he drinks tea and passes out.

“She’s dead, actually,” he starts the kicker. “He killed her. That’s how he got her silver band. There was no second choker. Only the first; close quote.

“Pretty good story, huh John? Thanks Bardie!”

5 second pause. “You’re.” 3 second pause. “Welcome.”

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March 16, 2026 · 7:54 am

00490609 (third)

“What’s that, Maw? (answer) Yeah, go ahead and send me the movie that’ll be fine (click). Luv ya.” He hangs up too. Back to returning his full attention to Moon Flower, er, *Sarah*. Because things have shifted. The Hollywood sign remains, though. At the end and just before the beginning. 4-3-2-1…

“Yeah, Maw. This videotape you sent me is from 1923. I can’t watch this (click).”

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March 13, 2026 · 1:57 pm

00490604

Oh Jesus, he thinks, checking through the 2-way mirror on who opened the creaking door this time. Someone on the list for a change (!). And John on the john, unable to help me right now. Don’t dare yell over at him to hurry things up, he thinks; people next door might hear. Peter Oesso runs up to camera 03, quickly turns it around. BMK wants all angles so she can transform the video from 2-D to 3-D! Can’t screw this up. On cue, important person #5 on the list, back to the mirror, roughly pushes important person #4 onto the bed in front of him. Peter’s already noted she wears a green turtleneck sweater to go along with grey dress pants, indicating who she is. The man in contrast wears a grimy white tank top and faded holey jeans — working man, he’s guessing, perhaps on a break from the nearby factory given the time (noon-1 PM). Poor and rich, he’s determined; contrast of class. But also on the list. Blue Moon called them the turtle and the hare and said that he’d know them by her neck. The man starts berating her about coming too soon the last time and then climbs on the bed on top of her and proceeds to CHOKE her by that very neck. Should Peter intervene? Is this just part of the sex? Choke choke choke… oh god. Dead on the bed. DEAD… ON THE BED. #5 leaves the room, as if his job is done. Doesn’t try to dispose of the body or anything. Just: gone. Creaky door opens then shuts. Oh my gods, thinks Peter. Now *we’ll* have to dispose of the body? Is that… really why we’re here??? He understandably is terrorized, but just then, stirs from the bed. #4 is alive! he thinks. This must have all been part of the act, PHEW. After a minute to recover it seems, she gets up off the bed and approaches the window just as Blue Moon did before. She folds down the green sweater from her neck after removing some kind of pin, and unclasps a silver band from it, a silver choker if you will. Protection from the choking! Peter thinks. Ahh, this *is* an act. She proceeds to pass it to Peter THROUGH THE MIRROR.

At this moment, John finally exits the bathroom but Peter quickly hides the choker just given to him behind his back. Person #4: gone as well now from room #5, as if by magic, no creaky door noises indicating opening and closing. “What was all that commotion out here?” he questioned.

“Oh nothing, just tipped over in my chair.” It was the best Peter could think of. Would it work?

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March 8, 2026 · 10:17 am

00490516 (2-D)

I needed Murdoc and Murdoc needed me. As he’d saved me before now I must save him. Or is it the other way ’round? Never mind: we’re a team moving forward from this day on, beyond the Plastic Beach where we came from to get this far. But not (a team) in that way, never mind there’s nothing wrong with that way. It’s just not ours. We’re what they call *ordinary*; not reversed, not retrograde. In that way again. With my elastic arm, I pull him into the portal with me and the others and we continue…

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March 8, 2026 · 10:15 am

00490515

“This is where the Pee Pee starts, Biker friend of mine, perhaps a lover too.” Maybe she left the lover part out of that sentence. Hadn’t been decided. But they had travelled to Rodentia for a reason. Daisy was testing out the relationship fer sure.

“Fascinating,” he said but not with enthusiasm.

“Let’s move down this grassy diagonal side road. Keep in mind the beginning point.”

“Oh I will.”

—–

“And so this is where it ends, down at that pipe down there, about 200 yards below the source up next to Route 10. It *should* empty into the Baederwood Forest I just exposed by derendering that wall screen marking the limit of Arang. But it doesn’t. Another mystery, then, perhaps another misery as well.” But maybe she left that last part of that sentence out again. No need to bring misery into the relationship either which also often comes hand in hand with the love part.

“Hmmm… why are you showing all this to me again?”

She turns toward him on the bridge. “Because I want you to know where I come from, Biker. I want you to know *my* source. And my mouth.” She opens her mouth to him and points within. “The words coming out of my mouth. I want you to listen like I had to in the past.”

He looks away from her after she shuts her mouth back up. He opens his just a little, pops in another cigarette, lights it, puffs. Not what I signed up for, he thinks to himself while watching the smoke fill the air in front of him, concealing the stream again. Religious mumbo jumbo in a town devoted to anarchy against the powers that be. He’s not a radical, not even political at all, really. He just… likes Daisy. Why does she have to, erm, *muddy* the waters with this… complexity, pheh. And *what* kind of name is Pee Pee??

“Why?” he says aloud, smoke dissipated, allowing him to view again. “Why Pee Pee? It’s not yellow or anything.”

“No of course not, silly. It’s named for my home. In Nigeria. The one I tried to conceal behind a fancier name. This Second Lyfe offered me a chance to reverse my youthful error, change my perspective on the world. I became a priestess here just like my mother was (up) in Real Life. I’ve told you all this before. The other day, when you were on your 3rd Non of the evening. I *know* you weren’t drunk, ha.” Should’ve remembered, she thinks.

Had she made a mistake in bringing him here? What if Frank Lynn finds out? But she had to know. Now she thinks she does. If only they could resolve that difference of opinion about AI. She’s *firm* about hers. What about him? Is he pliable to change? *She* isn’t. And of course therein lies the problem. Can she realize this in time?

—–

When she returned home, she was shocked to find her bar wasn’t there any more along the shores of Nawt Vaya. Hole in the Wall: simply vanished!! What happened, what happened? she panicked. Then she realized the culprit. The alcoholic sea monster! The Non she’d prepared just before leaving with Biker to visit Rodentia had turned out to be so good that the taste overrode his need for alcohol. Success! she understood about her personal brew. But she’d have to start over from scratch. Maybe rebuild the bar elsewhere now that she had to make a fresh start anyway. It’s all up to Frank, he thinks. She needs to find him, and quick! TBC

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March 8, 2026 · 10:06 am

00490513 (Blue Moon Kentucky)

Martin Allen? Where had I heard that name before? Ahh: *here*.

The front door creakily opens in the next room, as they’d set it up to do. “Your turn to film,” he said to likewise au naturale John in the chair next to  him.

“Um, no. Think it’s your turn, Peter.”

“Would you like to see the film?” It was here John realized Peter had turned the nearest recording camera around for better use that it was intended: porn shoots. Selective of course. Because this tended to be an old folks stop along Highway 66, perhaps revisiting a past trip from the 50s, 60s or 70s when the interstate didn’t exist or else wasn’t as overwhelmingly used as it is now. “Geezer sex doesn’t sell,” the boss told them emphatically. “Not really, not that matters for us. We’re in it for the big bucks. Don’t bother wasting film with those. Waste it on the important ones I listed out before.” But none of those had shown up. At least not yet (see section 06).

“Hey!” Raps at the two way mirror. “In there! Turn camera three around! I can *see* in there!” The Big Boss. Not a geezer, not atall. Young and full of passionate energy, probably too much so. But she’d given up on the bare bones of the business to follow a career in music. And what a career she’s having! No one knows she’s here, doing this stuff still. Peter Oesso and John Lockfry the 1st are paid well to hide that fact. Plus she said: “Blabber to the press — *anyone* — and you’re dead.” They knew she meant it. They’d seen the snuff films, one or perhaps several of which involved former employees with loose running mouths. Cheechee and then death. Not a combo you want to be facing.

She stepped all over Benjamin Franklin’s green toned face in leaving the room too. Gig over at the stadium tonight; she had to get prepared. Just reminding the boys here that she could stop by at any time. Anny-time. They had to remain without clothes. They couldn’t take any chances. TBC

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March 8, 2026 · 10:06 am

00490512

“She called me Martin. Not Murdoc. It quite irritated me, and I think I figured out why. Murdoc Alphonse Niccals I was born, you see, but later changed Alphonse to Faust when I sold my soul to the Devil for rock ‘n roll fame, as any red blooded, white nosed lad of his time would have, he he — just kidding about the white part, mind you (sniff). So to name me something else would maybe break the spell, the, er, *blessing* that the Dark Underlord had bestowed upon me. But — ahh — maybe that’s what she was actually trying to do, see,” he realized while talking it all out. “Martin, eh?” He turned the word around in his mind, examining different angles, different facets.

“And this was Blue Moon doing the, um, renaming?”

“Did I say that?” he responded, eyebrows raised. “I meant Blue Flower… eh hehehehe, *Moon* Flower. Yes, that was her name. Not the other ones. Although 2-D was certainly *her* blue flower. Sacrifice you see. Lamb. Just like…” He petered out here. He couldn’t remember anything else for a while. I put him back in his orgone chamber for recharging. I knew the upside down cross on the front would keep him there. The Fallen One.

—-

“Peter, yeah,” he starts when returning and after a sniff. “Sorry I…” He trails off again. Back to the chamber.

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March 1, 2026 · 3:21 pm

00490504 (2-D)

“So you see, I had to escape the (Cross of the) Lamb. Else: absorbed. Devoured like the purest blue flower that I’d become, all because of a cult’s desire for permanence. Both them *and* us. One and the same deep down — like a hole inside a hole with a monster who is the machinery waiting at the bottom. Waiting for his chance.”

Will he get it? Gonna be razor’s edge close if not!

Only his band mate, his primary running partner, can save him at this late point. Essence of Murdoc. Tied right now, ha. (TBC?)

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February 6, 2026 · 9:22 am

00490311 (Steve)

I had circled back to the Newbank sim on the Newbrooke continent of the Bellisaria series of continents now dominating the “center” of the Our Second Lyfe worldscape, determined to make more of the experience. Plastic Man — I had that much. Friends Pig, Bully, Father and Son — they’re still around too. But Plastic Man quickly turns (again) into elastic armed Peter Oesso impossibly reaching through a window to an espresso machine 12 feet from him and procuring himself a drink. We’re at the gallery just north of Newbank now, with a corresponding increase in realism. As a newborn starts to recognize the world around him and the difference between father and son and mother and daughter, so we have the appearance of 2 brothers here, one 5 years older than the other but still the same age. And, as we’ve also seen, a third brother who is the same age but even 5 years older is involved, his Penn station being the center of virtual Paperville alternately Pageville where we can get Peter Oesso’s friend Bardie some pens and perhaps pencils to write his words down with. And, queerly, Second Life Freeze Dry is only 2 miles south in the Pennsylvania equivalent. Maybe we’ll visit a variant version of that real life business soon too.

Back to the action…

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