Tag Archives: TREELOR^^~~~~~

Y and Z are 10 and 11

It was time for a longer post else we get off track. Wendy had her man, strapped to the Big Wheel, a prisoner in other words. In his own pirate ship: trapped by a woman of all things. But he suspected a man-woman because of the strength, the speed. He was wrong… kind of. “Gotcha!” she exclaimed as the tire iron came down on the knees and then the head. If she was truly a man he might be dead. As it was, he almost bled out, but was brought back by her powers of the mind. Hidalgo — but enough said of that (magic practice) which also gained her many more years than her immortal contemporaries. Only Mummy Suisan out in Swannanowhere had outlasted her. How many years now? She decided to count them out tonight (again) while — whatshisname listened in, helpless to turn off his ears by plugging them with his fingers or something. That was another point to this. She decided to use the base 12 way of counting just to prolong the agony a bit more for him. She stopped at 143Z to see if his head had started to bleed again (only a little). At 1Y876, she thought of the 765 Village and the hidden green grey alien there and how Brut or Burt or Brutus had turned all traitor on her and taken over the Fortress for himself in its two locations to bind the magic more tightly. She hit (whatshisname) on the noggin again simply because she was frustrated now. And, heck, she’d lost her count. She’d have to start over again. At 765 she spaced out and lost count a second time. “One,” she began once more, “twooooooo (*yawn*).” Finally getting sleeepy. She lets him hold her in his arms but just one trick and he’s back on the wheel. She uses the rest of her daily brain power to heal his head completely.

Out like a light now, but this was a test. She knew he could twist her head off if he desired — she had given him her superpowers as well. But if he still had the *mistletoe* somewhere upon his body — and she knew he did — then: no. That small sprig of evergreen would take them both a long long ways.

(to be continued)

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3 cores and a dummy

The train was 2 full and so that’s how they all met. Jerry, also named Harry; the nice Indian man Hidi the hamburger woman started to date afterwards — the proximity was just too close in there; and lastly but not leastly, Kolya, the damaged one. All we needed was Alysha to walk in and take a seat opposite them, but that was for later. In the here and now, we have the 7 merging into the 6, secret smile discretely packed away like a traveling trunk for boys.

“I knew he was damaged and we shouldn’t touch so I turned the other way.”

“Toward… Jerry,” I guessed. I figured the red complexioned Indian dude might be named Jerry as well. Jerry Lind perhaps, compliment to Jenny.

W thought back to that important time and place. They were traveling at a breath-taking speed, destination unknown, perhaps to New Delhi and Delhi and thereabouts again but maybe not. The white tiles flew by outside, almost at a blur’s pace; opposite of turtle or snail. We were in Wallytown I knew that. W didn’t seem to be able to really leave, now she’d met Jerry Lind (we’ll keep calling him). Giant for a day and maybe giant forever. If Wallytown had its way.

(to be continued)

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it is chicken it is eggs

Despite appearances, this wasn’t Mars outside. But then again, neither was this Baker Bloch in front of us sitting on the top of the couch, surfaces deceiving again. You can check his black brim hat if you don’t believe me. Slightly iridescent, like a dulled adobe shell. Baker Bloch’s is properly black, like midnight on a sunless moon.

What’s Fake Baker staring at? Is he waiting for someone? Yes, he’s waiting for somone. Because this is actually Tropp again, about to get together with Treelor, Axis be damned (and he is). Tropp is in charge here — always. I don’t know how that happened, honestly, but there it is.

Wendell “Biff” Carter is also Tropp. That is, they have the same core avatar. Wheeler is her own core, Baker Bloch too. Baker Blinker, Karoz Blogger, Hucka Doobie, and several others: the same. We went over all that in photo-novel 13. I know you were paying attention. So we’re dealing with a core issue. And Axis is also the same as Tropp, actually, both forming within 2 posts of each other back in photo-novel 8 (I’m sure you remember).

The actual location: New Eden, certainly a different place in these here photo-novels, a special place perhaps. Unique, but maybe not in a good way. The snake slithers forwards, holding an apple in its mouth. Peter Gabriel from Genesis can’t remove a Gentle Giant “Giant for a day” mask and remains noncommercial, unable to become the pop star he wishes and be free of the weight. So close these bands are, yet so far apart. In hypertime, I suppose, they could be the same. Like Dick and Dickens; like Johnson and Johnson. We’re not really talking reincarnation. We’re talking the same *gestalt* I guess you could put it. Outside of time again — there’s probably a heap of additional clues out there if one wishes to search.

Axis himself has played the role of Peter through Tronaxis, a nod to the audiovisual synchronicity Tronesis, a melding of Genesis (Lamb) and the original Tron movie. This was the weight. Wherever Peter went in his solo career, the Lamb was sure to follow, like a dark companion of sorts. He could either move forward into Peter O’esso and a successful solo career — *commercial* success (like a car) — or slink backwards into pre-Lamb where the red cross dominates. There’s so much more to this…

And in the exact middle we have the Lamb dying with Ram. More gestalts. Fused… somethings.

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00240203

He had a good look at the back of the bartender from his seat but she wasn’t his type, a bold bodied Jessica Rabbit sort from the Roger Rabbit movie franchise, a mixture of cartoon and caricature. The person actually sitting at the bar nearer him was more interesting, but not necessarily in a sexual way. More like she had information he needed to know — he didn’t know how he knew this but he knew. He *knew* he knew. He was becoming aware of who he was. And this dame — woman — was going to help him over the edge. Back to Canada and Picturetown and the alley with the 102 signature and Charlene the Bigfoot punk and all the other stuff. She was reading — he liked to read, at least the red book. He asked what it was; this was her cue. She turned to face him, scars and all.

“Axis,” she requested. “It’s time to give up the gig.”

Axis? Wendell “Biff” Carter thought. Was this role play? Okay, he could go along. “I’ll give up the gig, then, if you tell me what you’re reading.”

“I’m reading the book you have read. I’m reading the book you have *written*.” She showed him the cover, emblazoned with an inky black swastika as big as an alternate 3rd Reich that actually won WWII. Still didn’t mean anything to him. This was 1939 after all. The big switch hadn’t happened yet.

“Okayyy.” He calculates how to further advance this strange conversation. It had been a strange day. First he was awoken at 5 in the morning and asked to fill in for Philburg down at the station, who was sick on pill. Then during his beat (back on the beat!) he encountered a highly dangerous criminal named Orkley Andy — so close to Oakley Annie! — but turned out to be a sweet guy who had lost his dog Hunter who was just hiding under the couch because of all the gunshots. Never mind the cat stench and the almost cleaned up blood stains. Never mind Phyllis down at the Red Dress diner. Orkley Andy had him phone her up on his phone. She’s okay! Orkley Andy wasn’t a bad sort, just a gun sort. Biff had to ask. “Are you related to the famous gunslinger Oakley Annie?” “Never heard of her,” Orkley lied through his gold capped teeth.

How blind could Biff be? He refocused out of his thoughts and onto the stranger’s face again. So familiar. “Don’t I know you?” — making her huff and leave the place. She’d have to try another time.

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husband

She clung tight to the back of a giant white bunny as he approached. She’d spotted the cursed, bright red cross on the chess first. Axis! Why is Opp wearing that outfit of all things? And here of all spots! The place where I was… well, *killed*. In a strong variant reality at least.

“Hi!” spoke Opp from the other side in a somewhat muffled voice. “I’m here with the outfit I promised — what’s up *today*?”

So it *is* Axis, Wheeler/Wendy realizes about the dark figure slowly — fortunately — making his way up the slippery white slope. Two steps forward, one step back — repeat. She drops from her “hidden goth” position on the bunny to the snowy ground; tells present lover Opp wearing a “Giant for a Day” t-shirt to zip it behind a matching mask. “What’s going on?” he whispers over. They rendezvous about every day this time. He was just honing in on her location, as she allows.

Wheeler/Wendy points around the rabbit they then huddle behind. Opp sees him too.

“I thought he was busy playing God over in that paper city,” responded Tropp, just as scared as Wheeler/Wendy now.

“Apparently not.” She considers the day and then rejects the theory. Not the anniversary of her death. That was February. Axis wasn’t here for that.

“Is he, I don’t know, playing a game of chest with us? You know he always makes the first move, even though he’s always black.”

Dark as a swastika, Wheeler/Wendy thinks, watching the inky figure inch forward even slower. The slope was steepening. More good news.

“I will make it up to the castle in my present form,” a determined Axis declares below. “No need to turn into a car or some other silly traction device.” But he slips again in saying this. He’s slowed to a one step forward one step backwards, soon to move in reverse. No, this will not do. A car it must be.

(to be continued)

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Ferris, Bueller, and the rest

“I wonder where that Bigfoot picture is at the Consignment sim, Hucka? Instead: mermaids at the same spot. And everything else seems to have shifted around as well — windmill in front instead of back, and so on. It’s like a parallel version of itself.

Hucka?”

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Mercury Rising

She stares out from the hot pink bed to the spinning Ferris wheel, wishing she could fly. And soon she will. Hideout no more.

“I’m coming Tropp.”

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Consignment (split the difference)

“We’ll figure it out, Axis, er, Tropp. Umm.” He was truly stuck in the middle and 1/2 and 1/2 (sorry!).

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0214, Hana Lei^^

Treeler

It was a short vacation for Hidi but meaningful. She reconnected with her past: bruisers Delbert, Filburt and the rest. But she was back now in The City, and boyfriend-husband Axis and she had had a wonderful evening just staying in the room and, afterwards, strolling down the westward facing beach in the morning and enjoying a beautiful, forced sunset over the ocean waves.

No, he preferred to go by Opp now. Tropp, actually. True Opp — 1/2 and 1/2 (dang!). And she: well, we’ll get to that soon enough. She created him in effect, a reversed Adam to her Eve. The Apple had been, um, turned inside out.

Anyway, she’d learned something at the beach. A Mercury capsule like astronaut John Glenn use to pilot bobs all abandoned and shite out in Neptune’s Bay, but then when you walk just north past the Neptune sim you reach a property called Mercury Rising, like the sun was rising on the couple at the point where she discovered this coincidence. If it is coincidence. And all those celestial bodies (!): Sun, Mercury, Neptune. Tropp sometimes quips she has a celestial body, ha. Not last night — that would be too weird or obvious I suppose — but sometimes still.

She needs to check her horoscope to see if something is resonant there. Let’s see, Mercury rising. That’s easy. And the sun with it, but also in forced opposition to it (forced sunset instead of natural sunrise to enhance the effect of the walk). And Neptune in the, er, adjacent sim — that must be a neighboring zodiac sign.

She thinks back to an astrologer (name?) who told Hidi about what she felt at the time was a forced association between her birth horoscope and the positions of towns in an Ohio county bordering the Great Black Swamp back in the days. Importantly, Neptune is the only town that is named in the association. The rest of the planet-towns are, or were, inferred. She has the notes somewhere in her filing cabinet downstairs in her actual apartment. This is just a room she and Opp used. For reunion purposes. She decides to check out and head home. Actually, that’s just a figure of speech, for the place has been locked up for weeks. Hidi and Tropp just like the view of the beach and beyond from that large, paneled window; the couple is big on scenery and enhancing it in ways they can if possible. Forced sunrise here, forced full moon there, extra lighting in a darkened alley, so on. But Mercury rising… she must go back to that beach to scout out the place. The owner said in his property description that visitors are welcome. No forcing action there at least.

She lathers sunscreen over her oh so pale face and hands and heads out.

—–

Ahh yes. The Mercury capsule is labelled a *hideout* by the owner. Just like she had been hiding out over in Gaston and just returned. She sits only a bit beyond the border of Neptune on a sand dune in Mercury Rising and thinks about Ohio. Then when she recrosses into Neptune from Mercury Rising she is able to sit in the abandoned capsule. Interesting. Another true hideout (!). True Opp, true hideout. Hidi.

A map charting celestial bodies on a pillow inside; the whole thing is owned by a person from Consignment. Consignment shop! The plot thickens as they say. Better gather up Tropp and hand over there. If this capsule is truly cursed he needs to be in on it.

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dolls

Geez, what a pathetic prop. Grey intestines look *nothing* like that.

On to the interesting subjects… just around the corner.

Ahh so. An actual living, breathing vein and artery person. Thanks to *us*. And then her sister, but without the internal circulating system. Sorry, Girl 01. The sister — Girl 02 — will have to remain on the ship. But *you*…

—–

“I was a girl with long, spindly legs,” spoke Misty Felton to her new bestest friend Sep Felton back at the latter’s apartment (125 Wall Lane, Wallytown). They hadn’t determined a blood relation, if there was one to be found. To Sep, that left the door wide open to… experimentation.

“Interesting,” Sep replied. “I always imagine horses. It affects people different ways. So I take it you like the dance… oh, silly question; you were gyrating just as hard as I was during the heated moments. But not as hard as Molly, tee hee. A better question would be, what didn’t you like about the dance? Personally, I was a little disappointed that Molly was glitter-free by the end. But it’s a small criticism. How about you?”

Chatty again, Misty thought. But with that nice, pleasant tone. Still probably makes up for it. Yes, it turns out that Molly’s routine involves *one*, count ’em, one dance throughout, but with many variations of themes tried. On and on the music went, a combination of Pink Floyd’s “On the Run” and Judy Garland’s theme song “Over the Rainbow,” as Sep explained. Being from 1920, Misty wasn’t familiar with either. Combined title: “OTR” of course. Born to be mashed up, as Sep also said.

“I can’t think of anything,” Misty offered to Sep’s question, hoping to switch the subject back to the spindly legged girl. And the sister. What *were* their names? It was right on the tip of her tongue.

Just when she was thinking this, Sep leaned over the counter separating them and pecked a kiss on the lips fronting said tongue. It took her breath away. But it wasn’t unpleasant. On the contrary… “You know I may be your great grandmother or something,” she said to put some distance between them again.

“Nope,” spoke Sep. “We ruled all that out. We called mom… we traced our ancestry back 4 generations. Thanks to Uncle Bert as well. (The name) Sep’s just a coincidence.”

Hmm, pondered Misty. She decided to reintroduce the subject bothering her more than anything. She was a little irritated that Sep had skipped over it so quickly. It seemed super important to her. Horses… why did the music invoke horses for her? She decided to say this aloud, then work back to the girl. Sex, or whatever’s coming up, could wait. “Why horses?”

“I’ve always liked them. In a past life I imagine myself being a horse. Tricksy. And with Capricorn my stud lover. We’d gallop the fields to the Misty Mountain, where the lighted ones are found, the beings who lead us down to the big head Brainard in the valley beyond. Altona.”

“That quite a fantasy you have going there,” opined Misty with a slight laugh and shake of the head. Misty Mountain? she then thought. Why *my* name? Again she decided to vocalize her internalizations. “Coincidence about the Misty Mountain?”

“Oh… didn’t think about that. Yes: coincidence. Chance — again.” But suddenly Sep knew that Misty and herself couldn’t be a couple. Because something *had* happened beyond that mountain; down in the valley. She was remembering this now — lingering effects of The Dance. They had both been *absorbed.* Assimilated… yes, that was the word she was looking for.

Misty was thinking the same word at the same time. And realizing the same thing about the couple part. Their minds were synchronized now. Because, actually, they had one mind.

That of Brainard.

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