Tag Archives: Wendy/Breeze^^~~~~

lone choice (cake eaters)

I thought I recognized you… *mother*. Now talk before my finger gets itchy.”

“Talk to Cory. Talk to Cory!” she defended herself, panicking to get out of the crosshairs.

She meant Austin of course. Austin knew everything, or at least a whole whole lot. Enough to survive any firing of questions.

Or was it Eckert. Peter?

Knowing mother most likely had an aunt or two packed away in her back pocket, Dinner Girl called for reinforcements, which meant W since no one else really wanted the job, none of the other cores that is. Plus she wanted to buy some clothes from the freebie stall this particular realtor of the lower central northeast sector of Corsica had set up ’round back, maybe a summer dress or a pair of sandals or a straw hat. Something that started with an S to go along with the hissing of summer snakes. So I guess we’re dealing with a Joanie.

Make that Hidi.

Dinner Girl covered her while she went around the corner to shop. Play before work, she always said.

As she perused the contents of a box full of swimsuits, red tie donned Jefferson Thomas studied her intently, wondering if she was a member of Pot-D or Pan-Z or perhaps both. Like himself.

“You there!” Dinner Girl called over, spotting the threat. “Back away from the hamburger girl!” Mother took the chance to hightail it out of here herself but was gunned down in crosswalk, a distraction that allowed JT to escape with the girl. Like they had it planned all along; sacrifice for the greater good and all.

—–

15 hours later, a rose holding bride posed for a picture outside the house across the road, just wedded again to the late great Jeffrey Phillips. “It was the only way to bring him back,” she lamented later to a broken-hearted Kolya back in Nautilus or thereabouts, his lemonade gone stale again.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0206, Corsica^^, Urqhart^

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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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0202, Omega^^, Wallytown/Fishers Island^

Jerry Lind

She’d basically been living in Wallytown for I don’t how long, weeks at least. She’d taken enough showers to kill a cow, wash a bible head starless black ink sculpture all the way back to clear. She wasn’t done. Someone was with her, urging her on. Her worse half, as she called the louse (see above). This was the Orient, this was India. *She* was India. It was about time for an interview.

India: Glad be here. Glad you like my secret schweet smile.

Me: I missed you in Delhi and New Delhi. Turns out it was American instead of Asia.

India: I like hiding (laugh; smile revealed again)

Me: Chef-inspector Petty is hot on your tail. How do you feel about that?

India: He’ll never find me. And if he did he’s just a mesh object. No danger to him, none atall (smile again).

Me: What of the plane?

India: There *is* no plane. Petty knows.

Me: What of Kolya, who also goes by Pepi and Can?

India: (after a pause, then serious) A schweet boy, but damaged goods. I dare not touch him.

Me: And Alysha? We seemed to have scared away all the main characters.

India: *We* are the main characters. Always have been, you and I (she points to her and me).

Me: Alysha is Asian (I tried).

India: We are done.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0201, Omega^^, Wallytown/Fishers Island^

Fieldore, actually.

I feel like I’m missing something in the sim of Fieldon but I have a lot of time to figure it out. I sense I’ll be traveling up and down Highways 13 and 14 on either side of the beige ridge Collagesity fairly centers for a while.  I came to Nautilus from Rubi (Heterocera), I left Nautilus for Corsica, and then, lo and behold, found my old Fordham land was for sale real real cheap and figured it was a sign to move back. I don’t think I’ll be leaving again soon.

Here: New Jersey State Police, Nautilus Station off Highway 13 to the east of my home town, about 400 meters as the virtual crow flies. Jerseyville IL is named for the state of New Jersey which is named for the channel island of Jersey, another loop closed. I couldn’t establish a New Collagesity on the Corsica continent so I had to reinstate the old. It’s been a fascinating journey so far.

Look, I extend my draw distance to 512 and the Collagesity skyline comes into view. How nifty! “Right Harry?”

“Jerry, actually.”

—–

Later, back home: “Jerry… Jersey. Maybe that’s my missing piece, W.”

“For now.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0112, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

00260111

The *phone*, sir. Put the phone in the box.” Customs officer Wanda Raphael glanced over at fellow officer Wendell Sampson, having seen it all now. It was as if it was glued to his head.

“No no no, it has to be *lime*,” he insisted to the other party on the line. We’d seen him before, blue as FLY. Which he does, airplane or not. It was a moment frozen in time.

“Who is the pilot in this confusing story?” asked W, manifesting by my side. “Is it Tickie — is that his name? The blue fellow, perhaps the blue meanie?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly back. “There’s the problem of JOVIAL to deal with.”

“*Jeffrey Phillips*,” she exclaimed, remembering the Santa of the same disposition back in that other curiously resonant post. “He’s returned!”

“Maybe.”

“Who is the true ruler of Collagesity now?”

I let the question hang in the air like oxygen. I breathed deeply, taking it all in then exhaling. Calm the hell down, I remembered. I did recall that.

—–

Ship in the sky, plane in the air. I had that as well.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0111, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

Bushhhhh

I was told to meet him at the end of a long and dusty road. I said the name of the plant that appeared to be burning in front of me instead of the man.

“Nooooo,” he rasped. “I’mmm just *talllking* through thisss. Loookkk cloooosssser. Commme herrree.”

It was the voice of the father this time. I knew I was in deep doo doo trouble.

—–

“I remember how I got brain damage,” he said to her afterwards. “It was a fire; I got too close.”

“Good good,” she replied. “Now maybe those old wounds will heal — Can.” Only those quite close to him called him by that name, he remembered. She edged closer and gently touched the holey hair. Soon maybe no one else can get inside.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0109, The Waste^^

Gee

He looked at the book, the book looked at he.

—–

“So describe this woman,” Chef-inspector Petty requested, calm and eating peanuts out of an imaginary bag as usual. He’d been observing the developing situation for a while. The yells of “Tom” from Cory, the hysterics of Jen Saunders yesterday, the tripping over the Asian girl with the dull red book, knocking it on the floor to a specific page he noticed. He flipped 10 and noticed again, then. Anderson County — mention of Anderson. And then the crash. And then the turtle from the ditch, dragged back in by a tiny witch. It was all adding up to something, perhaps 45.

“It *wasn’t* a *woman*,” still a bit discombobulated Jen Saunders exasperated. “I *told* you. It was a plane. Or a missing plane.”

“How many on board when it crashed?” Here he obviously thought of her crashing into oh so yelling Cory.

“It *didn’t* crash. All passengers arrived at Dehli or New Dehli, bodies intact, if not wits.” She shakes her head, as if correcting something loose in it. “Oh, yes, their wits as well. It is as if they never *missed* the plane.”

“You said the plane was full (though).”

“The plane *was* full.” Head shaking again. “Oh, I see. No they didn’t realized there was no plane around them, propelling them forward. ‘Not missing’ as in ‘not realizing’, not: missing the plane in the first place.”

“Oh.” He gobbles another imaginary goober. Or not — doesn’t matter. Description is variable, as is space/time itself. He makes a mental note that he might be dealing with an automaton. She hadn’t answered anything about the woman he was *really* interested in, this W.

What should they say next, I ponder.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0107, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

00260105

I looked at the ship as if entering from below. I had been here before, she said. This W. “Now you know; now you are beginning to see,” she furthered, walking away from me, having given me enough information for the time being. Tick-like Tickie, the blue being, perhaps the blue meanie, pointing a magical turtle in my direction, which is south from him at the time in the back of the ship we sat, he on a break from driving. But not for dining. For *divining*. Turtles have a long history with magic, as in squares, as in other shapes. But, for now especially, squares. Saturn. Southward turning. Malefic as opposed to Jupiter’s benefic. Admittedly jovial blue Tickie north of me was trying to tell me something. I listen to his mouth, which moved in slow motion which was, before that, sped up, making the sound even more lo-fi. I needed definition to understand. I decided to go back to Yellow Submarine. After all, we all live in one, each and every one of us. So says Lemon.

So I began studying turtles and magic squares, immediately coming to this:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lo_Shu_Square

A Chinese legend concerning the pre-historic Emperor Yu (夏禹) tell of the Lo Shu, often in connection with the Yellow River Map (Hetu) and 8 trigrams. In ancient China there was a huge deluge: the people offered sacrifices to the god of one of the flooding rivers, the Luo river (洛河), to try to calm his anger. A magical turtle emerged from the water with the curiously unnatural Lo Shu pattern on its shell: circular dots representing the integers 1 through 9 are arranged in a three-by-three grid.

I checked the turtle still physically in front of me, ignoring the blue being and his slow moving mouth behind it for the moment. No grid patterns, but… something was there.

“Jerrrrrry,” I then heard it hiss. Channeling through the turtle? Yes, Tickie was channeling through the turtle, I answer myself. I refrained from asking who Jerry was in this post.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0105, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

Meanie?

He could look up from the Knowhere Gallery and see the big red NO on the hill, marking the namesake tor. Where it all began in this here photo-novel, 26 in a series of — I’ve lost count admittedly. 2? Mental note: cut down on the number of questions I ask myself in this here novel. But should I? Moving on…

The property with the Knowhere Gallery in Necrotee borders neighboring Yelloo sim to the north. In the Beatles’ inspired animated movie “Yellow Submarine”, a sculpture of a giant KNOW (word) early in the movie changes to a NOW and, finally, a NO, as letters are destroyed during the invasion of Pepperland by Blue Meanies, with the general idea being a shift from positive to negative vibes all around. Is that what happened here? Sorry: that’s what happened here, in Necrotee. Moving north to south. Here’s a picture of the full sim from above, “Know” gallery to the north, and the NO (part of NO FLY) to the south. Not much else in the sim.

“That’s all very fascinating,” she said, still beside me or around me somewhere. “But what of the red light that whisked little Alysha to… where was it? Angels Airport I guess? Where they apparently lose planes every once in a while? But somehow people still take said planes to their destination? Is that how this works?”

“Listen, W, I made a vow to my reader or readers that we’d cut back on the questions in this here blog.”

“And attached photo-novels,” she dutifully tacks on.

“Right. But: yes. I guess we have a general mystery laid out by now. Letters in Necrotee; the No Tor; red light–”

“It was a ship,” interrupted W. “Not a plane. Go to the ship.”

“Alright.”

—–

“Ahh. The ship that, let’s say, *kidnapped* little Alysha and took her to the airport somehow, still in Lower Austra but still pretty far away from here.”

“Airport,” she repeated. “Terminal.”

I complained about my lemonade getting stale, being procured the night before. I asked her if I could go back to, let’s see, Underclaw, and get a fresh one. But: no time. Tonight I had to find out what made this ship tick, what was the driving force.

I opened a door but the wrong one. I quickly shut it before the vacuum of space consumed the whole vessel. Losing only a little oxygen and pressure, I was able to breath and walk still. Recovered, I tried other doors.

And then there he was. In the back eating turtle soup and taking a break from driving, blue as FLY. Should’ve known.

I went back and sat across from him, trying to gauge his moral compass. The soup just turned out to be a turtle, a pet he carried with him most places and most flights. Turns out, additionally, it acted as his moral compass. Right now it was pointed south.

I asked him if he had any fresh lemonade. The southward pointing turtle manifested one from her mind, even skewing it toward my favored hand.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0104, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

free?

She was small but she was no longer a baby, this Alysha, not to be confused with Ayesha also from the last photo-novel. 26, eh. Number of letters. Beyond Missouri and Arkansas. Michigan. We are even again, 13 and 13.

“It is good that you progressed onward.”

“*You* again.”

“Of course. Your opposite. 13 and 13. Call me Michigan,” she then offered, giving me pause. Was she the one?

“Straminsky?” I tried. It was a word the Oracle didn’t know, or you had to back up back to three to get any population hits. Yet this was the 13th of the MASH sims. Did I succeed? She just kept on with that schweet but secret smile, like the end of INLAND EMPIRE. And maybe that was what all this was: the end of a long and dusty trail or something. Fulfillment. A drink of long sought after water from a magical well. “Well well well,” I wanted to utter but stopped myself. Stop.

—–

“Get to the temple. The temple attached to the tor.”

“Thanks for allowing me to continue.”

“I waited for you. Alpha. Windyville. Zula. A woman with a child as one. Unity of mother and daughter. An “l” was crossed, forming a “t”. You progressed forward. 6 to 7.”

—–

She was gone. She never made it out of the shadow.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0102, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^