It was a Warm Morning when the object crashed into the future site of itself. Early May I believe. THUD!!! The noise attracted the attention of a sore backed nearby hiker, walking in a different dimension but still able to hear because of the loudness. And then the straight line was manufactured backwards for close to a football field in length over 01 02 03 04 gullies. Alvin Straight. Motocyclone. Cylinder Rodman. We continued…
Warm Morning Crash Site: turn here!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0301, Blue Mountain, County Park, Iowa
He laid down his walking stick to take a picture of what he’d just been through. He was ahead of himself in the virtual world. Time to catch up!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0217, Blue Mountain, County Park
How can a path be so straight, he thought, and be aligned with that old rusty object. In his mind he was picturing something else, something woodsy. Not this; not the apocalypse. But there was resonance. He continues backwards…
North Yd. He must be heading to North Yd. He’d heard about the place. Bad things. Rotted out Tilers for one.
But he was facing the wrong way.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0216, The Waste+
“Here come the rest,” says John the Mind Reader to his character supervisor Al. “Better wrap this up.”
“Beans,” Al says to this, which encapsulated everything they just spoke about in a word.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0215, The Waste+
“Is it really you, Mother?” he called from across the court. “Alive and in the flesh again?” Ted, aka Stitches, couldn’t believe his ever-wide peepers.
“Come to Mama,” she said to this, and he flew into her open arms, micronized in a flash. Microcosm. She had a subject after all.
And a new character. Ratcatcher of the Fracture. *Not* the Fissure. She extended the story backwards and forwards to give it solidity. Two caught rats in a backpack cage — *not* pets, even though she’d given them names by now: Billy and Corgan. Story about that too. “Pumpkintwisters.” And, come to think of it, two more subjects I suppose, if she wishes.
Noise from the “cafe”. Two people she’d missed before, making a plan Stitches told her in her mind. She couldn’t make out the conversation herself but she knew the ever-aware, lime green teddy would give details later if she’d just hold her position without being disturbed. Physically, not mentally, because it was too late for the latter. Better add another scar or three and maybe the same with the rats, she thought, looking at what was coming her way. Al and John the Mind Reader (aka Jed aka Incognito we think) were only the first to arrive. Weekly meeting of the Last Drop Gossipers we have here. Including long forgotten Jackson Bloch, no kin to Baker. And apparently Ted numbered among them too. How could she explain the micronization? Was that even a word?
“Don’t worry,” she heard him say, still one through it all. “They can’t see you while I’m with you. Just sit over there in the center and *listen*. Takes two to know.”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0214, The Waste+
“Nah, I think you boys have it backwards. Go back and check. Pull Ted in with you this time, John, since he has the better peepers. Go up the stairs or down the stairs or however you do it — together.”
“Down,” said John to this. “I always head down.”
“Well there you go.” And Al was finished with the story for now and waved them outta his palatial office. Tom showing up in 1/2 an hour, one the more uppity uppers. He had to prepare, emotionally as well as mentally. Brace himself for what is coming.
The truck that had turned lime green in the meantime arrived at the Dorr’s house in Tyrone, New Mexico just south of mural filled Silver City where it was rented day before yesterday’s last week by the Horns.
Finally united for a common cause, they cautiously made their way up to the azure blue front door, Horns of Hatton activated. They paused at the bushes; peered around the corner to see what Good they were up against. The portal opened creakily from the other side. They turned away just in the nick of time. They noticed one of the angels was sight challenged — in shadow — while the other with his big, lidless eyes definitely could see the truck if not them. They had made a huge mistake in driving it here.
“Dude,” read that one to the other in the doorway. “Not Dud. Al was right. It wasn’t the *past*. It’s the *future*.”
The Devil couldn’t get away with it this time. He’d have to exit Grant. He took depossession of the body. Grant was saved by the powers of the door. Of the Dorrs.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0209, Illinois, New Mexico, The Waste+
It was so cold in here you could see your breath. But people didn’t mind. Celebrities in the audience!
“Good morning afternoon evening everybody!” Her standard opening line. “Welcome to the klub that’s going to put Kedas back on the map!” And then the requisite plug. “Brought to you by Sprite lemon-lime drink. The drink soo clean…” and here she paused to pull one of their sodas from her dress somewhere and chug. She retreats the can from her mouth, aaahs loudly, then: “…Grant *Hill* recommends it!” Cheers from the audience. Grant Hill is in attendance. He makes eye contact with me from where he’s sitting across the reflected green floor. Just briefly, enough to make me know he’s aware of what’s going on, if only in an unconscious way right now. Two Hills, PHEH, he may be saying internally. If he could only turn over the blueprint to his life he could see.
—–
“Dreaming again on that plank, Ted.”
“Just leave her this time. No need to tell Al.”
“I agree.”
“Got us into a lot of trouble before.”
“I remember.”
“Lot of paperwork.”
“I recall.”
“Anyway. Why don’t you enter her mind and see what’s going on.” So John the Mind Reader did. After a pause:
“Soo, what’s happening?”
“Apparently,” John surmised, “the past. Or a version thereof.”
“In-teresting.” They both had changed their minds about Al. The uppity higher up needed to be informed of this. New development!
(to be continued)
—–
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0207, HANA LEI, NIGHTSITY, The Waste+
A rare Wheeler free zone, thinks Newt, still in Ghergie. Her and her Omega continent influence can’t reach me here. But who to talk to? I suppose there’s always Edward. Mustn’t have been with them in this scene, this act. Edward, yes.
He came like Adam but he left a decent man. “Have we met before?” Newt started after the makeover.
“Dunno. Let me check,” and he began to look through the blog again.
“No no, don’t do that. Let’s just talk. No history, we’ll assume.” Newt had a subject at hand. “Found a nine over there, a number. Then it was gone. Then there was a forest spirit hiding inside the ruins of the temple it was formerly just outside of, leaning against almost. Or maybe the ground, the terrain, was just tilted a bit.”
“Um hmm.” Edward Daigle nodded. He’d heard about missing numbers before. Like 4, the only way to reach The Moon. Missing and you’re stuck with terrestrial. But he didn’t say this aloud. He was thinking of his history if he couldn’t politely browse it by jumping outside. I come from a spaceship, he ponders. No: that was Jem. Where’s Jem? It was as if he were waking up from a dream.
“I think the woods are playing tricks on us again. I’ve spent a good amount of time in them lately. Having so much fun!”
Edward figured this was Real Life talk once more from the white headed man. He wanted to stick with virtual. He suddenly wanted to move out of this parcel, contact Wheeler again. Wilson. But the green tower beside the ruined temple prevented it, the same object that probably manifested the 9, he later understood. “Glory be,” he decided to finally say. “Glory be,” he repeated.
And suddenly he was back.
—–
Now friendless-in-the-moment Newt got a name for the spirit: Colon.
“*I’m* your friend,” it seemed to beckon with his mysterious glowing green crystals and knowing smile.
Wheeler Wilson had been able to reach Barry X. Vampire in another part of the sim but couldn’t here. Thanks to the blocking tower of purest green. More symbols fell from it as Newt began to chat with his newest chum, the one who knew him so well if not visa versa. They had time now. Reprieve.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0612, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Wild West
The housing village I have to pass through to get to Pink Peak (changed from Red Hill or Pink Mtn.!) contains some ridiculously high retaining walls, Medieval style even.
At the start of the best, actual path up the mtn. is what I call the Graveyard, full of holes like this.
On the upper edge of the Graveyard we encounter Turnup Rock, which indicates that the path has changed direction and is turning up the mtn. instead of continuing around it at a more level ascent. In the future, this appellation might naturally degenerate into Turnip Rock, and then explorers and researchers of the peak might wonder why it is named so, since it’s quite block-like and looks actually not very much at all like some kind of fruit or vegetable.
Beyond the mtn.’s front ridge lies what I’m deeming Vineland, a microcosm which could have an interesting story of its own. The path I’ve picked out passes through its upper reaches.
Far side of Vineland. The woods clear out substantially after this
At the top now. Closeup of that kid’s cat themed sleeping bag, which I then hauled from next to Turtle Head and dumped over the bank of a nearby dirt road just to get it out of sight and mind.
I explored the all the rocks of the top pretty extensively this day, perhaps my main mission. Nothing as odd as Turtle Head and Campfire Rock already discussed here, but below is pictured one of the larger and more interesting of the rest, complete with defining orange fungii that I couldn’t find anywhere else.
Descending directly down from the top to go back, uncovered this rock that seemed to have tumbled against an already mature tree. Mostly likely illusion. What else is not what it seems on this clearly magical mountain now called a peak? Maybe won’t reach it again for a couple of days. And I’m still waiting to hear from Mountain Man, who I gave my email address to about 2 weeks back now, the start of all this. He has some art and writing he needs to share with me fer sure (!). Trouble is, he doesn’t have easy access to a computer. Hope I haven’t already lost contact with him!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0510, Blue Mountain, Red Hill
Last spring in background. This spring: foreground. Almost a square mile encompassed in a circle enlarged slightly to be exact (hence the 2 concentric circles, inner pink and outer red). Last spring’s circle, called Country Park, is 3.18 miles in circumference, so about 8/10ths of a square mile in contrast. Peak of finds in Country Park: the Monolith. Peak so far of new circle — think I called it Pink Hill. Or Red Mtn. — anyway, the peak so far is Turtle Head in combo with Campfire Rock just described in that last post here.
https://bakerbloch.com/2023/04/02/00370506/
Both parks also contain locations called Mystery, the newest one being Mystery Gorge, certainly a strange passage almost directly connecting Country Park with the top of Red Mtn./Pink Hill and its Turtle Head. That was also featured in a recent post called “Inside”.
https://bakerbloch.com/2023/04/02/00370504/
Must talk about Mountain Man. 1st encountered the *hammock* of Mtn. Man in City Park not far from my toy happening in the middle of last July called ALOHA. 2nd encounter was in County Park last September, and he’s actually mentioned in this post.
https://bakerbloch.com/2022/09/13/00340511/
The story of County Park basically ends there, as another location I had my eye on for a toy happening was blocked — someone else was already present, a nice enough bloke but obviously living off the land. I knew where he lived; he was telling me that, albeit unconsciously in all likelihood, unless he was an alien himself, ha. He filled my space quite effectively. He, in all likelihood, needs it more.
Soo. Fast forward to this March. 3rd encounter, let’s call it. And then a 4th the next day. For this guy, this Mtn. Man, actually *tossed my toys* over a cliff. Luckily he put them in a bucket first in order to dump and so they were gathered together in roughly the same spot. This man *destroyed Aloha* (!). To remind, Aloha is in City Park, not County Park. And Mtn. Man now *lives* just outside of the former location of Aloha and is building a fire pit directly underneath the same rock the toys were positioned under — thus the tossing. He thought a kid brought them up the mountain to this location. I had to explain to him I was a 63 year old kid, ho. Yes, we talked. We are actually friends now. We are linked. I quickly explained that the toys were a sort of art happening, and that I was an artist. The next day, on our big hike around the area, I explained in more detail that I was a collagist, although I’m not sure if he understood. Do *I* even understand? Anyway, to recap, Mtn. Man moves his camp site from County Park to City Park, destroys proximate Aloha, and then encounters me shortly after, where we become friends. But, at the time, *I did not remember* this was the same person from County Park I exchanged a sentence or two with last September until a bit later. Very very peculiar, but it continues…
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0507, Blue Mountain, Country Park, Red Hill, Toy Avatars
Sunklands 