Tag Archives: PINK FLOYD

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“I love you Chuck, baby, but this is not my bar.”

“Oh… okay.”

“Goodbye.”

“Good–” Chuck looked around — no blonde. More chicks in the joint where that came from, though. There’s a red haired one back there, a black haired one over there. Looks too smart for me. I think I’ll choose the red.

—–

Later:

“No one, *sob*, danced with me!”

“Aww, Ferrn. You still got me. Your old friend Bookie!”

“*Sniff*. Thanks.”

“Here. Use one of my pages as a handkerchief. Go ahead. It won’t hurt.”

Ripp. BLOWWWW.

—–

A soggy, wadded up piece of paper appears between Shelley’s legs, waking her up.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0413, Hana Lei^^, Mountain Lake^, Omega^^, Sansara

more black and white

After visiting Blue-Yellow and attempting to watch his sun rise, I hop on a passing trolley and head downtown…

… soon reaching THE Cave. Or at least A Cave.

It strikes me that it would be wrong to keep calling this character Axis-Windmill in a town created by an actual German. So we’re going to go with a new one. Not reverting to Windmill Man — too easy. Bronze John looks on, trying to gauge, trying to help. He was so successful with the Beatles with an A naming.

The Beatles are such archetypes, penetrating many synchronicity systems.

All bands can be related to them. For example, Pink Floyd are the psychedelic Beatles, Firesign Theatre are the comic Beatles, and The Residents are the bizarro Beatles. Frank Zappa with his Mothers strongly reacted to them; the Rolling Stones…

I was told by fortuneteller Esmerelda a while back that the answers lie in a cave. In the related collage, cacophony musician Charles Ives pokes his head out of one sideways, wondering if he’ll have anything left to say. He’s sorry about Cowell, he speaks through the entrance, the mouth. He’s sorry about Connecticut and Danbury and the clashing of bands. Connecticut forgives, but he’ll have to make them laugh, make them suckers instead of seekers, and get small in the exchange. Thimble Islands’ General Tom Thumb might know, if he’s paying attention. Misery becomes Mystery (up to date).

I wonder about New York’s Central Park in the Dark, and the Unanswered Question. I think back to the Amazon jungle and the Indian who becomes a Spaceman, search fulfilled; “aliens” found — this would represent the end of the 4th. Concord (Sonata)… maybe that’s next. Oh, and Karl finding the waterfall (Rainbow) and reading the scrapbook and discovering a new ending, leading him to set aside the old life and the attached house and move on. I thought about Charles Ives today in perusing my table of tiles, wondering if I’ll get the chance to tell anyone about it besides the wife and a best friend. It’s pretty remarkable.

Here is where I’ll be reborn, or at least acquire a new name.

“Who are you?”

“Helmet Newton?” he or she answers as a question.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0110, Connecticut, Jeogeot, New York, Newtown, Sunklands^

pink punk

“Did you know I have a hole in my back, Jeffrey? Do you even notice these things?”

“Let’s not argue tonight, Charlene.”

Pause. “Anyway, I guess coming here gave me an excuse to wear that hot pink dress I haven’t worn since, oh well, I suppose since I walked under that marquee in Picturetown and then glanced down the alley at skateboarding Bart Smipson. The bastard.”

“Now now, Charlene. He’s just a kid, a ragamuffin of the streets.” Smaller pause. “Plus, he’s probably dead. We’ll find out soon. Because of the next place we have to visit. Fern’s already been there. Which means you will be there. Eventually.”

“Pheh.” Charlene the Punk reached behind her shoulder and felt the hole in her back, suddenly becoming self conscious of it. She then drew her attention forward again. “And who’s this suppose to be? Me in the past I suppose — presume.”

“That’s the idea. Felicia Mae Appletree, but not the Smipsons teacher, the one who would have taught Bart most likely.”

“Pheh.”

“Instead, the child, the daughter. Maebaleia tattoo already on her back — she’s too young for that.”

“I have a tattoo of a *hole* on my back,” Charlene complained. “I don’t want to hear about some itty bitty upper back tattoo.”

“Central back.” He had walked behind the bar and checked. That’s how he knew where they needed to head next. Fern must have planted the idea in the young Charlene’s head. If this is Charlene, and it appears it is so.

“Does she *talk*?” Charlene the Punk says exasperatedly, about ready to leave if some kind of music doesn’t start soon. And no Residents this time or she’s outta here real real quick. She’s already told Jeffrey that, who assured her that’s it’s only Pink Floyd music offered here. She checks to see where his hands and fingers are, though, and notices that some remain hidden either in darkness or in clothes. She will not be entertained by the mastications of Homer; she was never one of those kids.

Boxes of donuts were rolled out on the stage. Charlene the Punk was outta here quicker than a pig with wings.

—-

“Have a seat, er, Felicia,” offered Jeffrey after the exit. 10 years younger, underaged even for him. Probably all for the best.

“Tell me about the tattoo; I dig it,” Jeffrey requests after the entertainment starts. Turns out she was one of those kids after all. She’d just forgotten what she had dug.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0025, 0413, Nautilus, Yd Island^

Vicki?

Since a Rosehaven Yarn Shop exists in both, I’m playing around tonight with a further melding between Picton, Ontario and NWES City of Our Second Lyfe.

Best additional resonance: the overlap of the also recently opened Her Majesty in NWES City with the Regent Theatre of Picton. Notice the parallel crowns in the center of the matching pictures below. And then notice that a girl wearing all black except for a hot pink dress (and seemingly holding a somewhat less hot pink colored coat) is walking directly underneath part of the theater marquee featuring the name *Pink* Floyd. Best guess: since Her Majesty is a bigfoot/yeti in Our Second Lyfe, and a black furred bigfoot is seen standing in the other doorway of Her Majesty (the main doorway here is framing Queen Elizabeth with a kind of menacing look — pic stood out for me) with footprints from him (or her) leading down the sidewalk, then the black clad woman must also be a bigfoot in my eyes, perhaps Her Majesty again in some queer way as transferred from virtual to real. The pink overlap is just a way to highlight this.

And so the actual name of Our Second Lyfe’s Her Majesty may be Vic, don’t you think. Or Vincent.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0023, 0116, Black Ice, Canada/Picturetown, NWES Island^

new!

The buffet was already laid out on the serving table at The Cones, my latest local eating and drinking establishment but this time for core avatars only, where they can let down their hair and be themselves and mingle amongst their other selves without the need for masks and separate identities. Take silhouetted Andy Warhole here on the upper deck, waiting for his date Marilyn to show up. But actually they were one core avatar and each knew the other knew this. In the moment. So while he waited, he was actually waiting for the single user of both, the single core used by this user, to simply change his costume to Marilyn’s, switch chairs, and then combine snapshots of each into one composite photo to make it seem the two were on a date. This happens over and over in the outside world, with little recognition by the avatars themselves. But here, at Sunklands Institute in the great Iris waterlands — swamp some derisively call it, like Roger Pine Ridge back in the days — separation could be relaxed and examined more from a distance, a perspective. Photo-novel 13, in fact, is all about getting back to core — that could be a subtitle.

The sun had just set when Warhole switched chairs and the collaging process mentioned above took place.

“Marilyn, so glad to see me, ahem, you again.”

“It’s purrr-fect here,” she cooed while staring out at the spot where the sun had just set, seeing no aftereffects commonly known as twilight, or the refraction and scattering of the sun’s rays caused by the atmosphere. Strange — this wouldn’t happen in the real world. Real Life. She decided to ask about this.

After Andy Warhole uttered the almost obligatory 5 or 6 repeats of her name, all in the same monotone, he responded properly. “No this isn’t real for certain, this — *world*.” But not being very philosophical he had no more to say about this. The DJ for the night showed up, and he mumbled, “About time.” It was Hilter, Chancellor of all of Germany by this point in time but not the all encompassing evil dude we know and despise by a slightly different name. So: 1939. Twenty years after the publication of the infamous Red Book.

Actually I have to bring in another core avatar to play Hilter, since Baker Bloch doesn’t have that costume or what’s more commonly called, in Our Second Lyfe terms, an “outfit”. So Bracket Jupiter is logged on since he does — two core avatars here are logged on simultaneously, which is common and even necessary in my work. He takes his position while I make another collage of Marilyn and Andy in the background. I add facelights to both to help highlight their position. Hilter waits calmly for it to be over before starting his first tune. And what would that tune be, you might ask? 1939… lemme check. INSERT PHOTO HERE

I believe it was Pink Floyd’s “On the Run” combined with Judy Garland’s “Over the Rainbow,” but difficult to say definitively because of the confusing effects of yet another collage.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0021, 0505, Heterocera, Iris^^==

Hills of Bill

There was not a lot around the trailer positioned at the very top of Bill Hill, the highest hill of the eponymous Hills of Bill. Nearest neighbors: a couple called Little Heaven and Little Hell. Reminds me of Teebestia and Axis and their Heart and Spade relationship, spade being basically a heart turned upside down and opposite in color. Angel; Devil. So maybe it is fate that such a couple live near Bullfrog and Space Ghost now. Is it actually Teebestia and Axis living there? No. But, still, maybe nearby.

How about the nearby sim of Littlefield, then? Littlefield, Texas is the seat of a county called Lamb, reminding me of Pitch’s wife Mary and the beloved little lamb she lost back in Olde Lapara Town in a grassy, grassy field. You still can’t mention it without her starting to weep a bit. The county also contains a village named Spade. And exactly seven miles and also exactly six seconds directly north we have a Hart Camp; Heart and Spade again; seven and six even. Littlefield (and accompanying Lamb) must be important. Currently there is a quite cheap 4096 square meter parcel for sale there that Wheeler Wilson could own with a couple clicks of the mouse. Adding in tier, I’m not sure that’s the direction to go.

How about this building called Musix Club immediately south of the purchasable land, in Belmont this time? Belmont was the site of the Bluebox Gallery, as I’m recalling, which represents, in a different way, the center of the whole continent formerly sprinkled with Blue named galleries south to north, namely Bluestocking (South), Bluebox (Middle), and Blue Strawberry (North). The current Collagesity photo-novel, 15th in the series, is divided into these same regions based on continental directions. Bluestocking was mentioned by Grey Scale Kimball in the South part (sections 1-3). Blue Strawberry by Baker Bloch in the North division (sections 4-6). Now Bluebox in the Middle (section 7). Was it also unfortunately in the way and that’s why it’s gone now?

But back to the building still present in Belmont, and nearest the old Bluebox Gallery property. We’ve seen it before in the novels, specifically in 14 before the current one, also all about Maebaleia/Satori and a kind of bookend work to this one. Now I’ve discovered the additional curiosity that the picture of Pink Floyd (pink!) on the front wall turns into a picture of The Doors from within.

And then “doors” over the two doors of the establishment next to it.

Is Pink Floyd a door into a different dimension? How about the big, rainbow colored marbles spinning in a tube just outside? Is ‘Rainbow Sphere’ infatuated Roger Pine Ridge suppose to show up next? He’s probably due.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0015, 0702, Hills of Bill^, Maebaleia/Satori

dolls

Geez, what a pathetic prop. Grey intestines look *nothing* like that.

On to the interesting subjects… just around the corner.

Ahh so. An actual living, breathing vein and artery person. Thanks to *us*. And then her sister, but without the internal circulating system. Sorry, Girl 01. The sister — Girl 02 — will have to remain on the ship. But *you*…

—–

“I was a girl with long, spindly legs,” spoke Misty Felton to her new bestest friend Sep Felton back at the latter’s apartment (125 Wall Lane, Wallytown). They hadn’t determined a blood relation, if there was one to be found. To Sep, that left the door wide open to… experimentation.

“Interesting,” Sep replied. “I always imagine horses. It affects people different ways. So I take it you like the dance… oh, silly question; you were gyrating just as hard as I was during the heated moments. But not as hard as Molly, tee hee. A better question would be, what didn’t you like about the dance? Personally, I was a little disappointed that Molly was glitter-free by the end. But it’s a small criticism. How about you?”

Chatty again, Misty thought. But with that nice, pleasant tone. Still probably makes up for it. Yes, it turns out that Molly’s routine involves *one*, count ’em, one dance throughout, but with many variations of themes tried. On and on the music went, a combination of Pink Floyd’s “On the Run” and Judy Garland’s theme song “Over the Rainbow,” as Sep explained. Being from 1920, Misty wasn’t familiar with either. Combined title: “OTR” of course. Born to be mashed up, as Sep also said.

“I can’t think of anything,” Misty offered to Sep’s question, hoping to switch the subject back to the spindly legged girl. And the sister. What *were* their names? It was right on the tip of her tongue.

Just when she was thinking this, Sep leaned over the counter separating them and pecked a kiss on the lips fronting said tongue. It took her breath away. But it wasn’t unpleasant. On the contrary… “You know I may be your great grandmother or something,” she said to put some distance between them again.

“Nope,” spoke Sep. “We ruled all that out. We called Mom… we traced our ancestry back 4 generations. Thanks to Uncle Bert as well. (The name) Sep’s just a coincidence.”

Hmm, pondered Misty. She decided to reintroduce the subject bothering her more than anything. She was a little irritated that Sep had skipped over it so quickly. It seemed super important to her. Horses… why did the music invoke horses for her? She decided to say this aloud, then work back to the girl. Sex, or whatever’s coming up, could wait. “Why horses?”

“I’ve always liked them. In a past life I imagine myself being a horse. Tricksy. And with Capricorn my stud lover. We’d gallop the fields to the Misty Mountain, where the lighted ones are found, the beings who lead us down to the big head Brainard in the valley beyond. Altona.”

“That quite a fantasy you have going there,” opined Misty with a slight laugh and shake of the head. Misty Mountain? she then thought. Why *my* name? Again she decided to vocalize her internalizations. “Coincidence about the Misty Mountain?”

“Oh… didn’t think about that. Yes: coincidence. Chance — again.” But suddenly Sep knew that Misty and herself couldn’t be a couple. Because something *had* happened beyond that mountain; down in the valley. She was remembering this now — lingering effects of The Dance. They had both been *absorbed.* Assimilated… yes, that was the word she was looking for.

Misty was thinking the same word at the same time. And realizing the same thing about the couple part. Their minds were synchronized now. Because, actually, they had one mind.

That of Brainard.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0013, 0610, Wallytown/Fishers Island^

no brainer

“Ground Zero, my friend,” spoke Philip over the music. “Ground Zero.”

Staring at the Jack Daniels whiskey bottle in front of him, Marion nodded.

“Over the Rainbow” and “On the Run” combined.

—–

That last track was simply beautiful, Tronesisia. It’s as if Judy Garland came back from the dead and took the mic again.”

“Thank you. My friends call me Sissy. Please. Call me Sissy.” She winked her robotic blue eye seductively at Philip Strevor. Then she did the same to Marion Harding seated beside him, except with the other eye. Two blue eyes.

“And your Pink Floyd rendition, Rocky. What can I say but wowzers. Wowzers! You both are so great.”

“We appreciate it,” chipped in bass voiced Rocky Rocco, who hasn’t been seen since way back in Collagesity novel 6. “I had an excellent teacher for that one.”

Tronesisa nodded in agreement. “Excellent indeed.”

Rocky leans over and pats Tronesisia’s silver knee. “And you too, dear.”

Tronesisia suddenly gets a sad, faraway look in her eyes. “It is so, it is so.”

“Sooo… let’s get down to business.” Unglueing his gaze from the bottle still in front of him, Marion Harding opens the briefcase full of money.

“L$50,000,” said Philip without looking. “It’s all we have right now.”

“That will do,” returned Tronesisia.

“Yeah, that’ll do,” agreed Rocky quickly. Tronesisia and Rocky steal a winning glance at each other.

—–

“He’s in here.”

“God I hate spiders, Marion. You go first.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0010, 0407, Wallytown/Fishers Island^

match game

“What a doll!” Fisher thinks when spotting a stiffly laid out Lisa the Vegetarian on one of his roamings around New Island. But she was just playing and roaming as well. Turns out she owned a luxurious yacht moored at the fabulous Diamond Sailing Club in the southwest part of the island. She boldly invites him over for dinner, entertainment and “whatever”, a proposition Fisher readily accepts. Could it be: love at first sight?

He helps her clean up after a delicious meal of tofu tacos, bean salad, and fruit smoothies — well, *sort* of helps. They chat of the bloated naval budget caused by the military industrial complex and how it takes away food, clothing, and decent housing from the island’s poor and feeble.

Moving downstairs to the living room, she dazzles him with Rimsky-Korsakov‘s “Flight of the Bumblebee” and David Bowie’s reinterpretation of Pink Floyd’s “See Emily Play” on her Prim Possible grand piano. Yes, she was showing off now.

They talk more on the couch in front of one of Adelaide Morris’ most famous multi-panel paintings:  “Fractured Violin”, commissioned by the Jack Benny Musical Foundation in ’76 and bought by Lisa after her first shipment of high grade quartz to the Corsica continent.

It was time for Fisher to leave, he said. But Lisa skillfully removed a key item of clothing when it became entangled in the shutting door. Soon they were rocking to David Bowie’s reinterpretation of the Rolling Stones’ “Lets’ Spend the Night Together” spinning on a bedside ’39 victrola.

In the morning, Lisa proudly shows Fisher her collection of homemade, low prim plants, pastries, and culinary appliances.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0009, 0410, New Island^

It’s official.

Roger Pine Ridge is back in town, and in his old apartment next to SoSo Mall formerly shared with old girlfriend Cyberpaperdoll, who, you might recall, ran off with a younger, hipper dude named Bandit Boy during his stint in Iris in the heart of the Heterocera continent. Roger says he’s tired of toying around, as he put it, with our user Baker B. up in the real world, and was itching to get back to playing a “less pressurized, less constrained” part in the still evolving “Collagesity mythos” — again his words. Here he poses with the cutout of another, directly related Roger at the town’s Blue Feather Club: Roger “Syd” Barrett, his fellow bandmember during the early days of psychedelic mega-group Pink Floyd and its original driving force. The mantle of band leader passed from Roger (Syd) to Roger (Roger) in early ’68, as Syd’s mind gradually turned to mush. But you see his fingerprints all over later (and more commercially successful) Floyd in such albums as “Wish You Were Here”, “The Wall,” and, of course, the masterpiece of them all, 1973’s “Dark Side of the Moon”, whose main theme is elements of the world (constraints of “Time”, pressures of “Money”, etc.) that lead one to go mad (“Brain Damage”).

Roger Pine Ridge had his way paid out of the Iris “swamp village” by newly crowned continental queen Bill — The Bill. He chose to enter the real world first, but now leaves behind the old, old disagreement of Missouri vs. Arkansas as the heart of our US of A to focus on “virtual frivolities”.

Again, his phrasings. Welcome back Roger!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0009, 0402, Rubi^