Dark Peak. The Power.
Blue Boy knows.
Tag Archives: Shelley Struthers^^++
00470605 (Central Park/ Stuck like Fly)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0605, Back Rooms, Gaston+, HANA LEI
00470604 (76ers)
“Mt. Sandraman,” exclaims Eddy, not tired at all from the hike up since it’s only a 42 meter peak. Still he’s very happy they reached their intended goal for the, er, (photo-)novel. 6 sections in; kind of cutting in close….
“Pretty,” admits Shelley laying beside him in not nearly so high grass this time. Nor wavy. No wind here on *this* New Island. Or very little. “But nothing like the black and white one in my dreams.”
She rolls over, faces Eddy, her Edward, her New Island husband and just new husband period. “We can’t stay here, Ed. You know that.”
Eddy exhales. “I know.” He was tired of the argument of 6, slavery — at least in its triplicate form — vs. 7, freedom. He had to let all this go.
“We lost our thought-to-be villa.”
“We should have never left Sandraman here,” Eddy reinforces the loss. Perfect, though, they knew. For a brief time. Oh well.
“There’s always Gaston,” she tried to brighten the mood. “Dark Peak — more good times, right Ed?”
“Yes. Good times. But laaagggy.”
“Yeah. Austin is there, though, 3rd down in the pile of Firesign Theatre members still performing weekly at the Rhino. Or 2nd up.” She edges a little closer. “We could, let’s say, pluck him from the rest, sit him down and talk to him about… stuff.” She looks heavenward, as if seeing more in the sky. “And there’s also his island (sigh). More good times. It seems they would never end. Infinite supply of… you know.”
“I know.”
She rolls over again toward him. “He probably set all that up, you know. He wants to stay on our radar. Probably wouldn’t be too hard to manage. Look at what I provide you, he might say. Do this in remembrance of me.”
“Shel-ley,” reprimands Eddy, glancing over at her with a scolding look. Neither were religious in the traditional sense. But both also believed in the concept of evil in the form of, let’s call it, non-freedom. Witchcraft could be an element of that. Black magic. Control.
“At any rate, he wants us to read him. We also know that from Colorado.”
Eddy sat up. “Where are we *going* with this?” But he couldn’t help playing footsie with her through the frustration.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0604, Colorado, Gaston+, New Island
00470603 (New)
She lay down in the tall, wind blown grass, letting the resonance engulf her. The Hmm in its pure essence. Remarkable. She can’t get enough of it.
It makes her feel like a child again, riding her tricycle down the road beside her mother’s home.
Home.
She must get the word out. This is paradise!
A novel should do the trick, she determines. And so it came to be.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0603, New Island
00470602
He’d fallen off the ladder 5x now trying to reach his new Newtown apartment. And that girl in the window giggling at him all along. That’s *it*, he said to himself while landing on the ground again then dusting himself off while rising — unharmed of course, because no fall will ever hurt you in Our Second Lyfe, no matter from what height. At least the way it *should* be designed, with everyone always playing in God Mode. Let’s hope that doesn’t change too. But he’s fed up with the situation. He decides then and there that he can’t stay in Newtown, no matter how cheap Rag Doll’s provided rental unit is. It just doesn’t fit. He has to go… home.
He teleports one last time into the sparse white 3rd story apartment, doors to a small bathroom and bedroom on the left. Unfurnished except for a dresser and that old couch over there, and heck if he’s gonna try to lug Wheeler’s 16 prim canopy bed up that gall blasted ladder, pheh. Maybe they can rent a crane; that would take care of the piano too. But — NO. He’s decided.
He moves toward the window, watches a grocer finish unloading his truck of supplies while a similarly colored woman beside him tends to her crying baby. Nice view from here, he admits. Hmm.
He settles back on the pretty comfy couch, choosing to read a bit of daughter Shelley’s newly published novel called “The Hmm” he just received today in the, er, mail before making a *final* final decision. He’s glad he did. Because he’s in it… making that final final decision.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0602, Jeogeot, Newtown+
00470601 (The Hmm)
“I live in a very white house starting with a white roof you can clearly see from the air — why I made it that way.
“Um, white ceiling fans…
“… white power outlets.
“White paint all around. Every room, every piece of furniture, every piece of art even. I like white. And, hopefully, my family likes it *too*. They haven’t complained *so* far (laugh).”
“Soo, ahem, back to The Hmm.”
“Oh yeah (laugh). The Hmm. Well, we logically suspected the new gas compressor station across the rails — really white buildings over there and I respect that but, you know (laugh), I had to get to the bottom of this thing (!). So I went over there one day, complained that we were hearing that dad blasted hmm in my house over 400 yards away, and it seemed, well, it seemed to be affecting our health (!). And, you know, could they DO something about it? I was sure they were the culprit, the source of it all. And you know what they said, they blamed everything else. Electrical lines, the railroad, water pumps in a nearby pond, Interstate 84. Could be any of these… and more. But not *gas lines*. And they laughed right in my face! (laugh). And me a retired mechanical engineer. Heck, I probably knew how their operations worked better than 80% of them over there. Not as much difference between machines and chemicals as you’d think.”
“Understandable that you were irritated,” I tried to empathize. “Is that when you decided to move away? To someplace new?”
“Well, the wife and I thought, maybe we should try out a new town to get away from the sound. ‘New town’ we kept saying to each other when discussing it — over and over. And then it hit us: Newtown. The town right next door to us. We could start new; fresh. It seemed *fate*. I told her, honey, our house is just off the Newtown topo map, which I knew from my hmm research in the local area. But shortly I realized the gas compressor station was actually just *on* the Newtown map, which seemed to be a bad sign. No, the hoped for sanctuary turned out to be *much* much further away, not one but *several* oceans away. It all started that very next day, when I found the drawing of the woman running on the beach at a Newtown flea market while we were checking out the place. Giselle, ha, was actually a bit jealous of my obsession with the drawing, with *her*. It was the whiteness, you see.”
“We’re talking about New *Island* here, right?” I suppressed a joke about him skipping right over New York.
“Yeah. Our brief dream of living in Newtown only pointed to this actual new place where we could truly escape the problems with The Hmm. By being immersed in it!”
“You found the source.”
“Indeed we did (!!).”
“Not gas lines?”
“(Laugh) No, but that’s part of it too. It all came from that novel. By the girl.”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0601, Connecticut, Google Street View, New Island
00470512
Everyone Says “Hi” 24 x 24 on panel.
A painting inspired by the David Bowie song and part of the PBJ show with Jay Jacobs, Feb 2016.
It was weird, as I was painting this I couldn’t get any of the characters to smile. Later I found out that Bowie had passed away that day.
Here is a link to the song. https://youtu.be/um05lJzXD0w
—–
Just in his own little island, Jeffrey Phillips remained happy, clutching his Philip Linden doll to his partially bare bosom and remembering his connection with another Phillip named Jeffries, his name kind of reversed or where it came from. White was his world; pure; removed of color and complexity and foldouty nature. But all around this everyone was sad and unable to smile. Jeffrey knew something had to change. The Real World must intrude on this rosy environment. Again.
“INSERT THE THORN,” a voice boomed up in the air somewhere. *sliiiidee*
Ahh: there it is, brown instead of white like all the rest. A sticking point as it were, an impasse.
—–
And just like that Shelley was banned not only from that “new” sim but the kingdom/queendom as a whole. Good to know how they feel about her. Like another Brown, Molly this time, an unsinkable force to reckon with, however. I must MAKE SPACE for her whims and fancies while remaining active in this Our Second Lyfe. But not there obviously.
So Rose Heaven is no more for me. And David Bowie remains dead.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0512, Georgia, Jeogeot, NWES Island, Rose Heaven-
33
But they were diverted away from the chase by the smart ass fox shockingly revealing who she actually was into a series of traffic cones leading their car directly into the back of a fake commercial truck where they were robbed of all the gold they were carrying and then dumped back into the desert, potential end of story. Until the fox traded apples for a banana and turned into a man.
“My SISTER??! Working on thee STREEEETTTS???!”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0510, Europe
00470416
Newtown policepeople Michelle Roundup and Bill Mustardgas also formed a legitimate and formidable team but they were currently investigating the Blue Moon static murders over on the old continent of Our Second Lyfe and thus unavailable.
Nor were Ted and Cruise of the potential When Push Comes to Shovel team, still on the clock down at the motor shop and unable to get off.
Which left the following, assembled in the sewer room underneath the entrance to also absent Alfred’s grocer store (sick with pill), the heart of the matter. Starting back row to the right, we have Norris and Pietmond, 2 gypsies (don’t call them hippies!) who rammed and bammed into town from the South Gate in a most dramatic fashion back at the beginning of this here section, killing a number of Germans but defending their actions by saying they were zombies and not real people. Were they right? Let’s move on down the row and we might see.
Next are Eight and Eighty last seen in the ratskeller beneath town hall, waiting for Alessandra who is the same as a white-clad Wheeler. Wheeler mistakened one of them for town *owner* Rag Doll, but she got her position wrong in town. The owner herself will be arriving shortly to correct all that.
Moving on to the second row from the back — and also the front — we have Osborne Well and, next to him, his daughter Lou, taking the place of Ruby and Bookie who also couldn’t make it for various reasons. Next is Wheeler likewise subbing for Alessandra, but, unlike the others, not directly sitting with her partner, who would be next up in our review front row right: Newt. Then to finish our teams off we have Dimmy and Marilyn M. from the cloth shop scene a couple of posts ago.
Time for dancing around the main subject matter is over. Red clad Shelley and now black clad mate Eddy unclasp themselves from each other and leave the stage. Rag Doll takes control….
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0416, Jeogeot, Newtown+
00470414
“I’m having a little trouble playing the ‘Pathétique’, Shelley. A little help here, hmm?”
“On your own,” she said, busy with her own activity (limbering up for her shooting). And so it goes.
—–
“Okay, where’s the body, Zeigler, Zoomer?” asks Chef-Inspector Petty, freshly arrived on the scene. The Z’s, he thinks here. Appropriate… always asleep at the wheel. “I mean, there’s an outline here. That means….” Then he spies the blood coming from under the toilet door. “O-kay, what’s going on over *there*?”
“W-we didn’t know what to do Inspector,” Zeigler the male officer of the two tries to explain.
“*Chef*-Inspector,” says Petty to this, being petty about his official title as is appropriate here. “Don’t forget the day job. I certainly can’t.”
“Hands, sir,” takes over Zoomer the female one. “We don’t…. know how that much blood can come–”
“Open the door,” commands Petty. “I want to see.”
“You won’t like it,” says Zeigler.
“Open — it,” he metes out. “And for God’s sake arrest or at least fine that man — I think — taking a piss against that wall! No public urination, nevermind the circumstances!”
“Yes sir.” But neither move.
“Wellll?”
“Which — one,” stutters Zoomer, “would you like us to do first?”
Petty sighs deeply. “Just open the door.”
After it’s opened remotely, he watches all the toilet related objects thrown out of the blackness — toilet paper rolls, toilet brush, urinal deodorizer — then settle on the floor and subsequently disappear. Finally, after all the clanking and skidding and rolling is over: “Hands, huh?”
“Yes sir,” said Zoomer. “We shown a flashlight in there.”
“Hands doing everything — all the throwing,” emphasized Zeigler. “We don’t know how much blood–”
“Stop,” he said. “Go,” he points. And they put on their police-issued galoshes and went inside. Other wannabe pissers and otherwise quickly followed in their footsteps. Only public toilet within a 1/2 mile radius, you see. Messy, haunted bathroom or not, they had to go too.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0414, Jeogeot, Newtown+
00470413
“Why yes I’ll accept your goblet of wine almost naked and equally tall Colossus before me, ha ha ha.”
Shelley Johnston Struthers wakes up drooped over her laptop, realizes she’s got to finish the current photo-novel before August 31st or overdue. Hiding the tempting body evilly illuminated by the black hole sun behind her, she gets back to it.
—–
“It’s YOUR fault, you know. The death of Susan here. You killed her!”
“No, YOU killed her!”
“Did not!”
“Did so!”
“Did not!”
“Did so!”
—–
Oops. 7 o’clock already. Time for Newt to watch TV with Wheeler. Better say my goodbyes and head out. Maybe for the last time, PHEH.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0413, Bright Moon Cottage, Jeogeot, LSD, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS, Oooo, Vortexville
Sunklands 