Tag Archives: Philip StrevorGTAV^*+++++$

September 19, 2026 · 12:20 pm

00510616

“Frankie. It’s Mike again. I just wanted to show up one last time in your dreams to tell you… I’m staying. Unlike you and Philip, I have a family here, a wife and 2 children. As you know. If you were over here still. Franklin? Can you hear me down there? I’ll go see that Clyde psychiatrist you recommended before. I’ll make it work out with Doris and the kids. The yoga instructor can go to Hell, or at least Uranus, ha ha ha. Anyway… I guess this will be my last transmission to you. Peace and out, my bro from another mo. We’ll see each other again…” (*click*)

But that was 2 months in the future. Now is now. Onward and upward!

END OF “SUNKLANDS LATER 2026”!

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September 19, 2026 · 12:19 pm

00510615

“Have you heard the good news, Frankie boy?” said Philip between dings and clangs. “Our user is going to keep the castle around. And all of Nawt Vaya. We can stay here instead of move to that white room with all the other retired characters, Karl and Nick and the like. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Of course I’ve heard the news,” Frank says between C’s and otherwise. “I’m more in touch with the user than you dawg! I basically *am* the user incarnate in this here Second Lyfe of Ours.”

“Right right,” admits Philip, already focused back on his game, on his high speed in the game. “Forgot.” Yes, he’s forgotten all right. He turns away from the machine after all the dinging and clanging had run its course and he achieved the score that he was going to reach today. “And who are *you*?”

Oh no, not *this* again, Frank thinks while turning away himself from his beloved piano and staring at the fierce, bewildered eyes, the more angered than normal, more wrinkled up than usual with fury face. We’ll have to train him all over. Oh well, better than not having him around. I *need* Philip. As a sounding board of sorts. And Nada needs him. I suppose. He’d also have to tell him all about Nada again and how they have a relationship. But that’s easily accomplished once he gets them back in bed, har. Not much else to it (!). But what if the same thing happened to him and he couldn’t remember Daisy? Skeptical Daisy. Balancing Daisy. Daisy the light of his life. Daisy the one who will lead him to the promised land again and again. No, that wouldn’t do. He’d have to figure out another way. Not *this*.

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August 26, 2026 · 5:46 pm

00510408 (no internal)

“Why are you both Frank and Daisy and Newt and Wheeler?”

“I am all males and all females at once. This is the only game I checked that you can do that.”

“Do what?”

“Log in 2 players at once. It allows me to much more easily role play for the blog and attached photo-novels. I do not have and do not need an outside partner in order for it all to work. I have no helper, and never did in the game of Our Second Lyfe. My only aids are the world around me as a whole. I can (also) use characters from Grand Theft Auto, Cyberpunk 2077, Witcher, and Red Dead Redemption and they need know nothing about it. They are just empty associates, devoid of soul except what I create for them. I am actually the only one here. My own little kingdom.”

“As the castle you both inhabit, the two sides of you as Frank and Daisy who are also Newt and Wheeler as you’ve reassured me, I only keep my eyes peeled outward instead of inward per your fiction.”

“Good. This castle is complicated. It houses other beings. Father Fecked is still in the downstairs bedroom I fixed up. Philip keeps popping in and out, mainly to play his High Speed pinball. Sometimes I am down there playing the piano just across from him. Daisy (Moments) piano — wasn’t planned that way, though. On it, I play songs about her. Fitting. Chromagraphs.”

“Chromagraphs?” It was a new subject — could he or she handle it? Of course!

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August 26, 2026 · 7:24 am

00510405 (high noon)

“You know we have a Westwood too, full of women and apples. You’re not the first of your kind, Franklin. Or Frank Lynn; whatever.”

This f-cking planet, he thinks later to himself as he stares across the river in his dreams, into a different New state altogether. Old New to New New. If I would have just left back then everything would be all right now, he continued. But he knew that was impossible given the direction they all — all of the prisoners of his, um, New Home — were actually facing. Up. TBC

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August 19, 2026 · 7:23 am

00510311 (center (old is better?))

“Black men. Taken advantage of. Slaves again, even. Do you want that? Will you follow her… all the way to the grave? These are the things you should be asking, Frank Lynn. As I asked them before.” He waved his arms all around. “We’re in a prison, a white prison, a white *man’s* prison. Mikie and Philip Strevor on either side of you are equally to blame. Good you killed Mikie, good you killed Strevor in that other possible ending. Leaving only me, and you. And, yeah, Nick Barkley (the Eastern European). One for each of the last 3 main versions of the game.”

“Void, huh?” Frank Lynn says, scratching his head but avoiding the temptation to scratch somewhere else. Don’t want to go down that road.

“Beyond,” Karl clarifies. “Worse than anything you can imagine.” TBC

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August 17, 2026 · 6:08 am

00510306 (prison)

“We should have never gone down to that f-cking planet, Frank. We’re just Black Men down there. Pitch darkly.”

“I know. I hear ya.” He looks down at his own skin and calms himself with the brown. Man in Brown. Not Black. Discernment. We’re all different, you know. *White* people.

On cue, white men Philip and Mikie join him on each side as Karl points to the only way out he knows. Space. But it could be too later for all that.

“Is that the North Star?” Frank asks innocently as they continue to stare.

“No.”

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August 16, 2026 · 1:07 pm

00510304

“How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know. At least 10 years for sure,” he said in an Eastern European accent. “I lost count at some point.”

“At least 20 for me,” said the other person in the room, walking up. Another black man. And another Southern Californian by the sound of it.

Oh my God. Karl!

—–

He told me that they didn’t get along at first but then became use to each other’s ways. Both had been retired for a long time after all. And now Frank Lynn was ready to join them.

But where was Philip? And Mikie? They needed to know all this too!

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July 12, 2026 · 6:17 am

00500605 (Leptune)

“Okay, turn around! And tell me why you’re here. Under that red arrow pointing downward. Straight down to this room, to *you*!”

“Don’t shoot me!” he pleaded pathetically. “Don’t shoot me and I’ll tell you everything. Why I’m here. Why *you’re* here.”

“I wasn’t going to shoot you, dawg,” says Frank Lynn back to the green clad man. A clown? he guessed from his position.

“Oh. You must not be *him*, then.”

“Him *who*?”

—–

“I would have *definitely* shot this clown in the back, not even telling him to turn around,” declares Philip Strevor in a parallel universe. “My loss,” he says in retrospect, from his position in the Realm of Death. All Knowing now; a little too late.

Because this Leptune colored like an ear of corn and then some truly had answers. He could get Frank Lynn unstuck, unglued. And Philip too. If he had the sense to do so.

Back to the current universe…

—–

“You just follow the shadow of the arrow now to find another (red) arrow, pointing upward,” he said behind him, just out of camera shot. “Then you’ll see where to go.”

“Thanks dawg!” TBC

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July 4, 2026 · 12:52 pm

00500516

He stood before the passageway again, knowing a decision had to be made. As before, they had extra arms, as in fire. Faux bug exterminators Jason and Walter were awaiting orders. In or out in or out? Didn’t matter to them; all this was beyond their meager, silly brains, Lester thought. They couldn’t tell the fool’s gold, the physical stuff, from the real gold — this opening inside the Sphere he’s managed to finally crash beside. As bad as Philip with his 60th of 60 in the 6th or 90th of 90 in the 9th. Last in class whatever. 6 is just as bad as 9, merely a flip or reverse of the same. Then it hit Lester. The same, the *same*. The future and past are one! He didn’t have to make a decision. He could merely stand in place and let the so-called Hand of God do it for him. He opened himself up… to the Universe.

“Holland??”

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June 27, 2026 · 2:06 pm

00500508

A new gallery has been opened up in my Nawt Vaya Free State along the shores of the same named inland body of water: Boos, essentially a duplicate of what once existed in Collagesity. The precise location is behind Cement Village with its own gallery of Concrete containing the entire Bogota series of collages (2016-2026), just like the Boos gallery contains the whole of the Boos series coming immediately before it (2015).

Understanding that the entrance to both galleries is in the same spot, I decided to combine the two into one for advertising purposes and call it Boos-gota, a portmanteau (like lukfast). Below, Karl turns around in this spot to look up at the signs of each.

To make room for the Boos gallery, I had to delete Starbuccaneers formerly in this location. Oh well, hadn’t used it for much at all anyhoot.

And Philip and Nada’s small house behind it now has its nice view down to the Nawt Vaya Sea blocked to their consternation. To add salt to the wound, Newt/Baker decided to also delete their nice bed to save more prims/li for skybox experiments due to Boos increased use of those in comparison with the deleted coffee shop.

“F-ing gallery,” spews Philip, thinking more of the view.

“Amen to that,” reiterates Nada, thinking more of the bed.

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