Tag Archives: Sepisexton^^++++++

April 28, 2024 · 3:49 pm

00420605 (immobile (paying the price))

Day 042:

I manifested on an island in the void I couldn’t move away from — no bridges — so I took a picture before the dream ended. Crystal (at the peninsula’s tip). Have to look that up.


Yes, there it is. I’ll just place a little (red) pin on that island to remember…

—–

“Remember what?” Wheeler tested later, looking at the pin with him.

“I… forget!”

“Gray Man, hmph,” exclaimed Wheeler to this. “Wiped you out again. You’ll have to start over.” She looked at him instead of the map to emphasize her point. “Stick to The Natural World as much as possible, Newt. He doesn’t go there. You won’t be as, um, *abstracted* there.”

“Okay. I’ll try.”

“Now sit back down here and let’s begin Day 043 while I watch and advise.”

“Alright.” He sits back down like a good boy.

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April 11, 2024 · 8:33 am

00420416 (Natural World/ Rainbow Falls)

“So I think we can make a home here, Sepisexton. Get away from it all, talk about the tomorrows and yesterdays to no end. Dreams we’re talking about here my love. And no Gray Man around to erase the memories. He doesn’t come into The Natural World.”

“So I’ve heard.” She takes another bite of her ant beignet and mulls over possibilities. Amos T. Sandman points in the distance, over the waterfall.

“See those fish floating over there. Plenty more where they came from. I tested it yesterday. You can just go up to them and grab them with your bare hands and then another one spawns. Fish spawns — get it? I was running back here to tell you no tackle was needed. This isn’t football or even angling — no sport to it atall. Free food!”

Wheeler, currently playing the role of Sepisexton to Baker’s Sandman, took the inept humor in stride. Yesterday they had found the North, this place where Okama Majo came from, at least in comparison to St. Dennis (more on that soon). He said he sucked at a video racing game while living there and thus made his own where the walls don’t matter and there’s no shooting allowed, no target whatsoever to the game. A game about nothing. But at the same time: everything. Here we have the answers we needed. We’ll continue photo-novel 42 into its section 05 while keeping this in mind.

“Let’s go up beyond the waterfall to the sunken ship to end again,” requests Wheeler, last piece of beignet in her mouth, somewhat muffling the request. Ants, thinks Sandman to this. Sepisexton got rid of the last to save him from becoming fused superhero Santman forever and ever, a walking talking copyright violation. She’ll always be golden in his book for this.

Time for the dreamer to awaken.

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March 14, 2024 · 4:07 am

00420305 (blow the doors off something (also: Rabbit))

Time for Mary Ball and Pitch Usurpius Darkly to move on to the next leg of their extended fishing vacation…

…. Fox Island at Endlessly Antipodal. Note that Antipodal is very close to antipoison, almost as if it was in the same jacket near the same pocket. Juliet-like, balcony standing Sepisexton we’re talking about here again and her hidden vial of the latter. Just in case, as she puts it. The former is included in picks by not one but two Yellowmoon Ridge landowners who seem unconnected to each other, er, otherwise (where we’ve just seen Shelley and Arthur). That’s why I knew I had to send the Darklys or someone else in my family of avatars there to check it out, interact with the landscape and perhaps the residents, if any exist.

Everything in Our Second Lyfe is connect to each other as if in a fractal environment. It all drills down to the same thing over and over. Only Outside can save us, something beyond Our Second Lyfe. Haze County where I actually live up in the Real World is an obvious, top level way to escape this void. Similarly virtual but much more intensely verisimilitudinous Red Dead planet too — if I can figure out how to get Jim Randolph the Bastard Pirate out of that fox body and into a human one again in St. Dennis, its only full fledged city and what some call the 8th wonder of that world. GoogleEarth and associated Street View is yet another way to latch onto something more real. Thing is, Our Second Lyfe is losing energy as games keep developing way above and beyond it. If it weren’t for the ability to create. Oh, and also the avatar customization and the incredible creativity of Our Second Lyfe residents in designing clothes, buildings, vehicles, all sorts of things. I seem to need to relay this to the reader of my blog to illustrate that I’m in sort of a tug of war between it and the rest of reality, including even other virtual worlds (and specifically, at least at this point, Red Dead Redemption 2, even though I don’t yet own the game itself, ha).  I mean, right now in one of my other computer windows I’m looking at something that shouldn’t be possible. Something in Mary Ball’s old Killing Shack now located at the bottom of a lake in Decker on the original Bellissaria continent. How did I get to this point?


Then there’s the problem of OSL laaaggg.

So here we finally return to Pitch Darkly and Mary landing in their small fishing boat on what’s called Fox Island in the River of Bear. Of course it has other names — no surprise there — including Squirrel Island. Because of this little fellow, currently surrounded by sniffing foxes checking him out. But he’s actually a chipmunk; that’s what the foxes have surmised as well, being versed in Endlessly Antipodal geography and the naming of local things. “We’re still okay; still on top,” one speak-thinks to the other, actually being a part of one soul beneath the separate exteriors, a distinct advantage they have over humans.

Maybe we shouldn’t be so hasty in switching Jim Randolph the Bastard Pirate back into a human body himself. See what he can still uncover as an urban fox.

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March 9, 2024 · 4:09 pm

00420301 (another VA neck)

Unable to write today he watched her from afar, wondering what she was waiting for. Hope she doesn’t abstract today, he thinks. Sometimes just doing nothing can set it in. Maybe I better go over there, talk to her, interact with her, check on her. Make sure she’s okay. Keep her mind occupied. Maybe talk about the past. And the future. But not the present. Never the present.

I wonder where this Shelley girl is, she ponders from the balcony like Juliet to his Romeo. She had an antipoison on hand just in case she made the same mistake as in the past. White Stone — check on it.

She smells the red roses and that makes her feel better. Arrive by sea and I’ll be waiting and watching, she ordered the girl who was actually a woman indeed. The Woman. Unless that’s Parasol.

Ah yes, that must be her pulling in there at the marina, she observes from her castle up on the hill. Better tell Amos I’ll be indisposed for a couple of hours.

(to be continued)

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March 8, 2024 · 8:57 pm

gone bye bye

In this “Amazing Digital Circus” teaser, ringmaster Caine directly references Kane (Pixels) and his famed Back Room bacteria creature. Knew it.

And then there’s the abstracted Kaufmo clown character from the pilot, who some spell as Cofmo. Including me here. Poor Cofmo. But good guy (?) Caine takes care of the immediate danger for himself and his still intact circus employees by banishing the poor transmogrified creature to an underworld, underwater realm.

“Honey? Honey? Snap out of it again. Look at me look at me. Honey?”

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March 8, 2024 · 7:27 am

00420213

“King Rodney,” the Shadow spoke. He turned, confronted it.

“Me? I’m no king. I’m just a ruler of a country, democratic in nature. Now, anyways.”

“The Country of Morrow. Otherwise: Cofmo.”

“Well, yeah. That’s it. A country, not a kingdom.”

“But you train ants. I mean, you have ant warriors. In your fort — make that: forts.”

“Use to. When I was a kid I suppose. Now I’m they’re grown up. I have adult games to play.”

“So I’ve heard,” the Shadow spoke. A pause, then: “What year is it, ruler of Cofmo? I mean, can you sit in a diner with a white girl or even an Asian girl and get away with it? Can you listen to the Everly Brothers blaring from a jukebox? Or do you have to settle for Fats Domino?”

“I… don’t know. 1984 I guess. Last I checked. What time do *you* think it is? Shadow. My Shadow I’m supposing.”

“Correct. You are just confronting yourself. Because this is a dream. I know something that you need to know. About the abstracting.”

“The what?” And he woke up.

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February 29, 2024 · 6:23 am

00420204 (evening run)

She’s trying so hard to fight the abstracting, thinks husband Sandman from the porch of their cozy Glynwood Stilthouse in the heart of the Omega continent. She’s run around all 9 lakes and all their 7 unique linden plants 3 times now in the correct order, just as the doctor ordered. It doesn’t mean anything, he spoke secretly to the husband. Just something to keep her mind occupied and off her troubles. Placebo, he admitted, although the exercise and fresh air will indeed do her good.

“So the enneagram is worthless in and of itself,” Sandman tried to clarify when this was illuminated to him. “The shocks don’t count, or are nonexistent.”

“Correct,” said the doctor back, who may be Mouse but perhaps not. But it’s looking more like that’s so.

(to be continued)

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February 1, 2023 · 7:35 am

Bathtime

https://bakerbloch.com/2016/01/23/fourth/

When Karoz reached Baker Blinker’s porch, he heard running water. What he saw inside was also beyond his comprehension.

He found he could not move. Neither did Baker Blinker.

—–

Baker Blinker, put at least temporarily in charge of the new town upon the absence/disappearance of twinned soul Baker Bloch, looks over. “You’ve returned,” she said about the great metal being, only noticing him now after 5 minutes at the Blue Feather Table, as if he’d just been reglued to time and space.

He said he had a story to tell in his deep, robotic-but-still-warm voice, then paused. Baker Blinker feared another Big Freeze, like when she first met him (as Karoz relayed about the meeting later on — she, like now for a bit, was unaware of his presence in her “house” at the time). But then he moved his mouth around as if being oiled from within, then continued.

This is where Baker Blinker learned Tin S. Man was Tin, well and good, but he was also 11. She looked all around him like a cubist painting and then realized he was gone again. Portal. Like a winked off TV screen, shades pulled. Tin S. Man was in Soos no more. “Find me,” she thought she heard to end.

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January 28, 2023 · 1:37 pm

Somoco: Gothic-Deco

“Well it’s just lovely, dear.”

Like you, he thinks. He’s still smitten with her beauty after all these years. To him, she hasn’t aged hardly a bit. In his eyes. “We’ll get you some new art,” he explains about the missing piece on the wall, stolen from a gallery somewhere they both can’t recall the name of at this point. “Turning over a new leaf in this here newest version of Collagesity we are. Crinimals no more.”

“No more,” vowed his wife Lovey, the former Ms. April Mae Flowers, together the Clyde and Bonnie of Second Life art thievery. She reaches across the table to hold his hand. A team still they are, just on the right side of the law this go around. But then her mind starting wandering back to one particular piece specifically, the one that earned them their nickname of Humanvillians at the time of the steal. She was picking up on the psychic vibe of the community in her gifted way (so many residents with “gifts”!). Intuitively, she knew about the cave, the railroad, the train, the castle, the deity within who needed to return home so badly, whether it be Missouri or Kentucky or Oklahoma or some other state, even a state of mind.

“I’m glad that man I killed in Collagesity is still floating in the pool back there. A constant reminder of the errors of my way. We’ll keep him there.”

“The… gardener,” Herbert Gold, in turn, reminded his wife, thinking they really *both* killed him. Since he was his rival for her hand back in ’72. The Zoo Year; all the monkeys let loose; everything *bananas* (flying about). Who knows who did in who at the time, or who cheated on her husband and/or wife during any particular stretch. That Zoo needed to be closed, become a fossil. That Zoo was also Boos, the gallery, the collages. Did I say ’72? I meant 2017. 2016, actually, although 7 is a funnier number than 6. Sepisexton.

At the bottom of the hill below Herbert and Lovey’s new house, Sepisexton pulls in with Paul. They’re here about the art.

“Just up there,” she points. “Let’s go,” Paul says, ready to spew some acidities.

(to be continued)

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December 17, 2021 · 11:09 am

bell

“We’re here today, dear friends, to choose,” Preacher Zoidboro urged, soon to be Non-Preacher Zoidboro to about half of ’em, friends turned to fiends (or foes). “We have, evidence #1, the ‘Text on the Mount’ shoved under my parsonage door by a mysterious black hand, the color of dark licorice. Evidence #2: the Mount itself, better known as the Monolith. It is the One to complete the Four, in my…”

“Blasphemy!” shouted Bill Bright from the back. Count him in the foe camp.

“Let him speak his say,” urged Martha Bennington in front of him, fresh from a shower and thus more relaxed. She didn’t even have time to dry her hair before the special Tuesday’s Wednesday’s meeting, but that was because she was up most of the night reading this blog. No, make that writing in her blog. Something about drumming… a man possessed by a circle within a circle design. Let’s make that a dream, which kept her awake thinking about it afterwards. She also woke up her husband John, sitting beside her, but never going back to sleep. He couldn’t choose between the 3 and the 4, he determined. Glancing at the Monolith while walking into the church this day in April’s May, he decided to remain neutral, let others do the choosing for him. He feared Martha fell on the side of 4, and the chiding of Bill Bright in back added to this theory of his. Plus the fact that the drumming dream was in 4/4 time instead of 3/4. She specifically said she remembered it that way, and mentioned the 2 times in particular. 4/4 instead of 3/4. “3/4 would turn it into some kind of, um, *waltz*… a joke almost,” he recalled her saying. Well, the Trinity in his book is *not* a joke, but we’ll see… let’s see what the others say. Bill Bright has voiced his opinion. Martha too by counterweight, it seems. Zoidboro is obviously on the side of 4. Old Preacher Benfield has shown up to stand, er, up for the power of 3. The battle lines have been drawn. But what of the church structure itself, built and kept up by the hard earned money of the parishioners who seem to be dividing into two now? Will we just, I don’t know, build a *wall* down the middle of it? John continued to speculate while the others had a pause to contemplate as well. Actually, it was more a pray, requested by Zoidboro and also Benfield. *Pray* on this division. Feel in your *Heart* what is true, they urged, which made about half of them think of the joke about a Spade walking into a bar with a Heart, at the top of the “Text on the Mount” just under the title. These were the ones who would choose 4. The ones that didn’t get the joke: 3. We have our camps.

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