She finds herself in a place doing realistic things, like blow drying her hair. But this is the morning she finds out she is actually a man. She stares into the mirror, looking at them after the removal of the false, the fake. How deflating!
The mayor’s nose keeps growing. Guy visits the doctor again, still working for the resistance. A new strategy is being hatched. Stealing the golden goose egg *has* produced results. He’s straightened out, elongated: the I of TILE revealed.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0028, 0508, Kowloon^^, Maebaleia/Satori, MISTY MO^^, Paper Soap, Soap, Yaya Land
“MO like on a ship?”
“Plane. But a plane is a ship in the sky.”
—–
We land in Misty MO again. Someone steps out of the plane. I believe it might be Jennifer M. Friend but I’m a little discombobulated tonight admittedly. I’m on a straight diagonal toward Endgame but can I reach it? I had a sister.
I had a sister.
—–
He looks away from where he’s been and thinks about the present.
—–
He wasn’t happy with his latest painting — “Parasols” — and he’d run out of green paint as well. Irritation tonight. A big black fly zoomed around the room, sometimes landing on his painting as if it were a window outta here. And perhaps it was.
“Jerry?” he called over. “Wanna go on a walk?” He was trying to be as cheerful as possible, given his mood.
Jerry, she thinks. Is that who he believes he’s sleeping with? The *ex*?
“Hardly.”
He recognized the voice. “Flo?”
“Jerry… went home.” Flo wondered if he still had a relationship with “Mr. Green,” given that he had none. She couldn’t tell if the painting was dry or not. She went into the other room of the Greek village apartment, hovered over him.
“H-how?”
“Tell me if that’s Wet Glaize. Or Dry Glaize.” She stood her ground, allow him to absorb the shock of her presence here on this romantic isle in disguise. Instead: trap.
“Wet Glaize *is* Dry Glaize,” he uttered automatically, bringing in more memories.
—–
She couldn’t tell. They next went outside to drink and catch up and look at the view. She turned away from the blue, not wanting to be reminded of crosses. Because she remembers. Greg Ogden was… well, she didn’t want to think of it right now. The bastard pirate!
“Do you even remember Ruby the green alien,” she complained after finishing one glass of wine and beginning another. I believe it was her 5th. “Where did you *leave* her?”
Green, he thinks. Where did I leave green?
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0028, 0415, MISTY MO^^, Paper Soap, Soap, Yaya Land
Right over there he was. My greatest creation: Harrison Ford Jett. I’ll never get close enough to call him Harry, but *Jerry* might. What’s her name again now? he thinks, folding his arms behind his head in a mimicking action. Sally?
Bluebird, he remembered later, descended from Blackbird. And he was a whole band on the run. Perfection.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0028, 0414, Yaya Land
“You’re Harrison Ford Jett aren’t you?”
“Maybe.” Harrison didn’t want to commit to this stranger on the hill. He’d seen this trick before.
“I think you are, sir. And I also believe this is yours.” He holds out the guitar. “I’m an artist, see? This isn’t mine.”
And indeed Harrison could play the guitar just beautifully.
—–
In a parallel world, Harrison watches Greg Ogden’s masterful strokes from afar and wishes he could paint.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0028, 0412, Bellisaria, Continent 03, MISTY MO^^
At 10 they were back inside. “You don’t know a lot about Bach, do you?”
“No,” admitted Harrison Ford Jett, getting weary of the magic now. About time for bed, he thought. But with her? It both excited and chilled him. What would she attempt *this* time? It was always a roulette wheel of love. “My knowledge of classical music basically starts with Beethoven, beyond Mozart, beyond Hayden. And, in fact, the same with rock music. Starts with Beatles, skipping over Elvis and Buddy Holly and the like.”
“John Lennon insisted that Beetles was spelled with an ‘a’. He was trying to forget the past. He was trying to forget the *parallel*.”
“Suppose so.” It was an interesting conversation for Harrison. Bluebird, his little chickadee, had “turned” smart again after the coffee incident. Maybe it was all the caffeine, he speculated. For *both* of us. Relax and float downstream, I guess. “John is Mahler, though. It’s obvious — the glasses.”
“It’s more complicated than that.” Bluebird decided she better start acting dumber again. She slows down the thoughts. 1 1/2 times now, 1, then 1/2. 1/2 usually does the trick. Not *too* slow.
—–
They were in bed now. Harrison was relieved to find the antics tonight were quite vanilla. Afterwards his neck hurt, though, giving indication that something was askew once more.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0028, 0411, MISTY MO^^
“Whatcha writing?”
Like you’d like to know, witch, he was thinking. “Journal,” he said out loud.
“Oooh. I *love* journals. Can I read?”
His neck suddenly hurt, as if the mere mention of sharing something so personal with her caused him physical pain.
“Uhh. I don’t know. Maybe. Let me work on it some more.”
“Am *I* in it?”
Of course you’re in it, witch. I’m trying to figure out what you are (!). “Kind of,” he said to her. “It’s kind of fiction.”
“Role play, eh?”
“Er, not really.”
“Fiction, though.”
“Yeah.” He let her mull that over. Not role play but still fiction. What does that mean… witch?
—–
He paused to make some coffee. Then they sat outside and stared at the sea.
“I think this is the most romantic place we’ve ever been, Harrison. Can I call you… Harry yet?”
“No.” He was firm about no nicknames. Not until they were married, whenever that would be.
She cuddled against him. “But at least I don’t have to call you Harrison *Ford Jett* any more. Remember that (period)? First the Ford was dropped, then the Jett…”
“I recall.” Of course he remembered. He set the rules. Again he thought that maybe he wasn’t dated the brightest bulb in the drawer. But on that he was dead wrong. *This* was role play. She was doing it very well.
—–
By 8 they were down at the beach lounging about. “Funny, Harrison (she feigned a laugh here), how we (tee hee) can still see our coffees smoking on that patio up there. Strange, eh?”
Harrison didn’t say anything. Witchcraft plain and simple, he knew. This was a *warning.* Don’t talk about role play with me. He’d underestimated her. Why does he keep forgetting how powerful she really was? Must be another spell.
(to be continued?)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0028, 0410, MISTY MO^^
There’s always a give and take to things. Misty MO will always be connected to Yaya Land: Misty MO > Yaya Land. The former may have created the latter, if that makes any sense. The religious nuts might know. If I could find one.
Here I am, on the new edge of the world, staring at Neptune (seen) and Pluto (unseen) jointly. Fern would like it here. If she weren’t blocked by Uranus. I’ll have to talk to the main part of her core, this Wendy Wheeler Wilson. Or maybe Ruby Alien, 1/2 and 1/2. Who will it be tonight? Alysha even? Do I know her yet? So many questions.
“I’m here. Sorry I’m late. I was deciding what outfit to wear for the occasion and just went with the simple one. Hope you still like it.”
“Bluebird.” He’d forgotten about his main girl, his little chickadee.
She sits down beside him and starts talking about how she’s going to really change this time and put the Boos away. We’ll see.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0028, 0409, MISTY MO^^
“I don’t belong here,” he said to friend Horace later on down at the docks in a kind of goodbye. “I’m not who I seem.” The wheels in his head kept spinning ’round and ’round.
—–
We go one outfit up for the next section: Harrison Ford Jett. We return to Collagesity and its Boos Gallery with Fern and him.
“So the taijitu ball was rolled over, giving the Mouse another head to replace the one just crushed like a…”
“… goose egg,” finished Harrison. Fern stared at him, wondering how much he knew about McCoy.
“The meteor, yes. Impach. Let’s move over to the Power Tower now — want to show you another baker b. work.” Things were different now, she realized. De ja boom and paths change. She’s glad, because she misses Harrison. And those apples.
—-
But for Harrison Ford Jett, Fern never made it over to the Power Tower. Alone, he stares into the eyes of hate.
Where is he (*panic*)?? Oh: there.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0028, 0408, Collagesity Fordham, Kowloon^^, Lower Austra^, Nautilus
“Maybe there are good Boos and bad Boos,” offered up Harrison Ford Jett, still learning about and absorbing the impach. His precious Bluebird!
“Maybe,” said back brilliant Fern Stalin, his counterpart, his mentor for tonight. But she kept thinking of Mistery Island and how to get back there. “You better get back to her; she’ll be waiting. And you better cook up a pretty good explanation why you suddenly had to leave her side. And don’t mention Boos!”
“Okay.” They split after that, not leaving any firm plans for a future rendezvous. It’s possible, Fern realized, that she’d seen the last of Harrison. Or at least those apples. Decision paths lie just ahead…
“Don’t be a stranger,” she cryptically ended and was gone.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0028, 0117, Canada, Canada/Tungaska, collages 2d, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus
“It probably started here,” stated Fern, showing the origin of the Boos. “In, let’s see, collage #13 — unlucky 13 in this case — of the Boos series. Boos came from Boos — Illinois that is.”
“That’s next to Indiana and its famous Dunes,” chipped in Harrison Ford Jett, eager for knowledge tonight.
“Correct. Anyway, the Boos come from the planet Mars. There was a failure — in Tungaske as we’ll keep calling it — to create a working, proper *sphere* by several of its artists, a joint effort. Sphere of Space if you will. An abnormality set in; in ways these are the two moons of Mars, Phobos and Deimos, terror and dread, explaining the faces. Rust probably represents Ida B. Wells from Rust College, who was a champion of freedom: diagonal (echoing some former talk they had concerning Bellisaria). The Boos ate the freedom, took it away from them. The Boos are the elitists, also explaining the white-wash color. They proceed horizontally beyond the edge and into the world itself. Evil has been let loose — again.”
“Who is the man in the water?” queried Harrison. He was a band member on the run, trying to get as far away from Bluebird as possible tonight, an ironically named character it seems. Bluebird of misery instead, misery and mystery in one. Mistery. So said Fern.
“Man on the fringe; man watching fringe, man *from* Fringe. Peter I believe. Watching the Boos do their evil doings, the Rust girl perched precariously on the rust colored cliffs — gone. He sticks, lets see, he (as the Spaceman) sticks his hand in a hole and it is gone — just below where the girl *use* to be. The missing hand symbolizes the missing girl, hmm. And missing pieces of Mars, moons.”
Harrison glances sideways. He’s eager to get to the next collage in the Boos series and be done with it. Boos attack! But… well, let’s just let Fern talk for herself.
“And here we are.” They spread out from each other, just as the Boos, black and white, spread out in the sky above Tungaske, (numbered buildings) ready for conquest.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0028, 0116, Canada, Canada/Tungaska, collages 2d, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus
Sunklands 