Tag Archives: Shelley Struthers^^++++
00510101 (center (old is better))
Sherwood needs to grow the f- up so I can get out from behind this drum kit! thinks Karl during another so-so rehearsal, fellow bandmember — *only* fellow bandmember (so far) — Chet in front and to his right per usual, with a new costume of his own. Welcome Robo Santa! Welcome to Scissorhands©. Karl’s? An ear of corn obviously in honor of his new hero Leptune from that kooky animation movie he’s been watching a lot of lately, also colored as such. The whole effect gives off a strong sci fi vibe, with both costumes appearing like space suits. Are they actually alien musicians beamed down from another planet to teach us all the power of universal groove? If only the music was as strong as the costumes and the idea, band manager Biff Carter worries from the side. Karl is adequate not great on drums. Chet is okay/passable as lead guitarist but the singing — the *singing*. Which of course makes him think of Shelley. Just like Sherwood, also too small, still crooning in her too high but otherwise pitch-perfect voice down at the docks for an audience of one. How’s it going with the search for that time machine, observing Charles Anson?! We’ll see where this goes. TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0051, 0101, Jeogeot, Rodentia 02
00500609
“You’re going to have to give all this up, Newt/Baker. Else–”
“Slavery. I know.”
—–
“The red, yellow, green I can accept,” she said, indicating the colors of her own body across from me. “But the *blue*. Too much!” It was a line drawn. Black and blue I become in the above times. I have to avoid this!
Given all that had been revealed, though, she was acting quite reasonable. A reasonable demand. I’ll have to think it through. TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0609, New Island, Omega
00500607
“Here. You can go here. RA-CY,” she reads from the sign. “Racy. You are allowed.”
“Thank you chaperone!”
—–
“The legs are too long,” she says, looking over the body stretched out on the couch in the burg office center’s 3rd and final floor, hands behind head. Like Bigfoot. Like her feet, she might opine, if she were actually, truly alive.
“I know. But I tried to change them and it didn’t work.” 10 to 9, I thought to myself but not bringing it up out loud. I was just astonished we had gotten this far. She continued…
“What of this, er, wound to the belly. Explain.”
After a pause: “Just to add to the realism. A different texture… with the masking tape and all.” Later addition, I then thought to myself again.
“Let’s get into the more delicate matters,” she quickly continued, as if wanting to get this over.
“Alright.”
“The pipe.”
It was here I had to bring up the witch.
——
“There’s no one in there,” she attempted to clarify later, trying to stay as level headed as possible. The thing was actually *breathing*, she thought.
“No,” I said.
“Never ever?”
“No,” I said as firmly as before. It starts with her, it ends with her. The Body. Receptacle, yes, but never anyone inside.”
“Not [delete name].”
No again.
“You’re sure.”
“Yes.”
“Just you.”
A pause. “Yes.”
“In everyone involved.”
Another pause. “Right.” Pause. “Everyone.”
“This… witch,” she returned to that subject.
“New Island witch, yes,” I said. “Mid-Hazel,” I named her.
She shook her head. We had had enough for this morning. TBC?
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0607, New Island
00500603 (Kessler (wrong way))
She peered at me over two empty wine glasses. As if she had something to hide. She indicated “full perm” and loads of prims/li, which meant we could live here for a while if we wished. Nothing upstairs, she also said, indicating something else. Yeah, we could crash here for a while. But did I want this? Of course I want this (!). I want to live period, breath again, walk on Second Lyfe God’s green, beige or whatever earth terrain. But she said if we did this there would be a price to pay. Snakeworthy Price, I guessed, as in owner of The Shooter. And what was being shot? Bigfoot.
We moved to a nearby structure. “We could live here for a while,” she said while reading the clear as a bell text from her latest book. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure. TBC?
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0603, Critterville, Google Street View, New Island, Omega
00500602
“Shelley over there in the chair looks like she’s in trouble, hubby of mine. I remember when I was like that, and Shelley was in the belly. Belly Shelley I use to call her after the naming, patting the big round 12 lb. mound on my stomach. With a bit more to come even before The End. Which of course was also The Beginning. Do you remember? Were you even there?”
From beyond the screen, I log Baker/Newt in and manage to fit him into the picture and sit across from her. I take a snapshot of the 3, mother, father, daughter. “I’m *trying*,” I kind of defend myself through him.
“Try harder. For me. For poor bloated little Shelley over there. Who’s in the stomach this time? Is it Liz? It’s suppose to be Liz; where are we on that? Where *is* (father) Arthur?”
“Ocean–” But Wheeler cut me off here. No need to go the the ends of the world for an answer. Simply ocean will do. Any ocean. All Oceans. TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0602, New Island, Oceania, Omega
00500513 (Topper)
Before hopping into the shower, Shelley/Wheeler decides to assume that pose again she saw Bigfoot take in Concrete WA and stare at the results in the mirror before her. *Am* I Bigfoot? she couldn’t help think with her library eyes in place, no need for aiding glasses any more, a block to deeper knowledge. All Knowledge. Especially given that she could animated herself this way in the first place. Library… might as well call it “built in”. Thanks to a witch. TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0513, Google Street View, New Island, Omega, Washington
00500512 (The Sage Page)
“So there I am again. You can tell me by my bent up nature, just like an Ozian Wheeler traveling around on all 4s, and also bent to the rule of the Witch Mombi and perhaps the Nome King through her. Old Wheeler,” she summarized about the figure in the center of the collage before us, called “Crash on Mars.” Not because it depicts something crashing into Mars but because of another figure to the left of “Old Wheeler” called Crash who holds in his hand a giant fishing rod from our perspective, horses let out of a barn I suppose. She first brings him up in the next paragraph.
“(the 19th Century U.S. religious figure) David Brainard is seated in the foreground,” she continues, “who seems to be the same as (brainy) David Bowie, the Spaceman, the Man who lived on Mars. The Starman, as in Dark. Black. Look at the top. At the end of Crash’s fishing rod which passes through (the word) RUST.”
I saw the black star at the top of the work where Wheeler (*New* Wheeler) indicated, fronted by a blue-green hummingbird. I ask about it next, prefacing this by saying that it seems to me it should be a fish here instead. “What gives?” I end my query.
“Let’s turn to the next Bogota collage,” she replies and starts walking to our left, pulling up in front of it. I go stand beside her, basically shoulder to shoulder again so we can keep trying to see as one.
“More Life on Mars,” she says. “Remember when I told you to bring me Book 03 from the town library and place it on my table? Well there it is. It’s a summary of all knowledge, all books.” The collage changes.
“And there is the second part of the animation which is actually the first, showing my point. Lisa the Vegetarian is the Tungaske artist who absorbs it all — inputs it; eats it — and then provides an output for us to peruse and perhaps dig into deeper if we wish. Beyond surface reading, you see. Surface of Mars. Crash again in back, facing toward you this time — sans rod, I’ll add, with no horses around this go around. As if waiting for you to act. Can you act? How deep can you go? TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0512, animation, Canada/Tungaska, Cement Village, collages 2d, Cricket, Google Street View, Jeogeot, MARS, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS
00500511 (through the trees)
“Sorry I’m late.”
Just in the nick of time.
“You don’t know it (*grunt*), but I’m helping you, artist of mine, from the Great Beyond (*grunt grunt grunt*). Hang in there (PANT PANT) Old Wheeler!”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0511, Boos, Canada, Canada/Tungaska, Google Street View, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS, Pennsylvania
00500503
The dandelion indicated we were in the right place this time. Day 03.
Print of the famous “American Gothic” painting by Grant Wood inside the mysterious, buried structure that somehow still provides a walkable, perhaps livable space within…
… altered a bit from another angle to show a more hidden truth. Just like with the Indians, women often find themselves in the middle which unfortunately is in the way. Might have to get rid of them too in the end.
—–
“Stand back, Opine… Opp, or whatever. You’re just a boy. I’ll go in instead. It’s safer for me.”
And so Karl Johnson or Johnston or whatever enters New Island’s infamous Pipewold realm. From the future. TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0503, New Island, Omega
Sunklands 