The newest anomaly of Rhodenwald is gone as of sometime in the last 24 hours. A temporary madness.
Maybe that kind of madness will also pass for the country as a whole. But I don’t have my hopes way up.
“Uh herm, you’re showing a bit of an ankle there, New Nun.”
“No, Duncan, it’s just that I can’t hate this place. I *should*. But love is here. So much hate in the world.”
“Like the couple in the park,” Duncan Avocado in the wicker chair beside her said, referring to earlier conversation.
He looked up from the bare ankle. “And the cross?” he spoke. “And the crucifix?”
“Yes, they will always be in hand. A second life must be prepared.” She pauses again.
“*Is* this a second life, a second chance?”
“I cannot say there is not love here,” she finalized, looking across the road at yet another symbol of red hate. Dixie seems to surround this oasis of Rhodenwald, a Meat City all around. We’ll have to talk about it further.
where The Cross meets The Straight
While on the continent, he had to go see if it was still there. It was: the Bridge of Entrapment.
He recreated the scene. He was beyond the fear now. Being dead and all.
Elephants across the island at the end of it. Elephants are a symbol of hope. They cannot entrap him now. He need not dwell on the past. He is free.
Neighboring Vilania and its Safe Hub is something to be holding in mind as well. We know the link to the hidden village (of Utah?): VILA. Only 2, and this is 1 of the 2. Or actually 2 of 2. A man drove an impossibly small car between the 2 last year. Actually several men, but one turned from green to red and became useless, more out-of-focus landscape all about. Utah (Utah!). Mirror Lake Highway. Kamas to Samak. And so it goes.
The couple of Rhodenwald were in the other VILA yesterday as well. Inside a Dark Mountain, the one feared by Christians there too, and perhaps rightly so. Like Hitgal’s pal Sangria. Like Uncle Zach’s nephew Domino. A black community, in constant fear of their lives. So we brought them here, or Jacob I. did, I suppose we have to clarify. With his big, 3rd eye. It was revealed under his straw chapeau and all happened. The Joint Joint became a locus of energy. And it, too, is still there, with a direct portal from NWES City, of all places. Rhino. Speaking of which…
A car can be both red and green at once. Like this object beyond The Straight (Reality) leading to The Straight (Virtual).
It’s just a symbol, a sign. But one of many.
It’s time to wake up Morris again. We have time now.
Well (well well well)
“I think green means go, Lou.”
“And no Inky Man to deal with this time.”
Morris was very long and almost extended across this Aley designed Gilligan’s Island hammock. Morris also thought he might be green because he was seaweed. But this isn’t Morris, I realize. It’s someone else — green. C. Weed? Anyway, this, I believe, is his island.
Oh, he has a dog. And a wife. But it’s not Lou. Lou is Morris’ sister. Neither has anything to do with C. Weed or whatever his actual name is. Gus? Better get back to Lou and Morris sans C. Weed. Just noting that he exists and where his home probably is. Near Sunklands Institute; just on the other side of the Shallows with the splintered factions of Core-Alena now.
They form quite the nuclear family.
“What’s that, Spot (Spot!)? Something out in the water?”
“Better go take a look.”
“Come on, boy. Come on! (whistling: phw phw phw!). Okay, be that way scardy pants.”
“Wmpr Wmpr Wmpr.”
“Oh I’ll be all right.” [Gus] rows out to the Shallows.
“Hmmm. Nothing out here but a couple of green leaves and that green thing over there that’s been here forever. Better go get Spot to a dog doctor. He’s seeing things!”
“I *told* you the Shallows was a bad idea for a tree,” he-she whispered sideways out of his-her mouth over to she-he.
“Oh shut up, you. Sounds like he’s going away.”
Blogging at Sunklands Institute while the Moon comes up.
Perch: the restaurant is still intact.
Angus Nuffin still cooks there; burns perch occasionally.
Magika Bean waits for her date.
“Hi baby doll.”
Jeffrie Phillips was waiting for someone in Teepot, perhaps that cute punk he propositioned yesterday.
Yes, there she is, with the relationship evolved enough to a point where she’s asking him to choose from the lot of them again. But he only has one in his heart: Audrey. The rest are distractions, pretty baubles for him to pick up and admire. She’s with Dr. Nightwing, though. Out on one of their “missions” once more. If only he and Mystic Girl would get together instead — another companion. But right now it was Audrey. He stares up at the stars. Probably on Cygnus X-9 or some far away place like that. He thinks of black holes. He looks at Charlene. He thinks of holes.
“Nothing on the tube tonight, baby. Looks like we’ll have to go upstairs.” But she had no clear vision of where the relationship was going and thus having none of it.
Actually upon checking from behind she does have an angle for viewing. “Okay, let’s go for it,” she agreed after this pause to take another snapshot.
Afterwards he left Charlene upstairs and came back down to write. He liked to wear his facelight while alone here, and also switch on the little lamp on the desk to illuminate his manuscript even further. Bright ideas deserve bright light, he pondered brightly. Like ideas were constantly flashing in his head, giving the impression or at least a hint of the all consuming ever-light, his alchemical goal. Union with Audrey, union with the light, Dr. Nightwing conveniently sucked away into a midnight black hole — or something. The light is flickering more off than on again.
They ate leftover pizza for breakfast. “What’re you going to do today sweetest?” spoke Charlene the punk after finishing the first pie and sitting down with a second. Jeffrie breathed out. What *was* he going to do today? “We could go, I don’t know…” He couldn’t keep up the ruse. “*I’m* going to go walking — out in the woods around the town.” Charlene stared at him, tears forming in her eyes. “It’s never going to work between us.” “No,” came his quick response. She knew this was all about Audrey — he couldn’t stop yammering on about her last night. Okay, okay, she’ll accept this. She had a good time with Jeffrie. The sex was great! What a tiger. She voiced her opinion — her *certainty*. “Audrey?” he replied to this. “I guess.” On his part, he thought back to the highly illuminated manuscript and what he had written on it. I suppose one could equate it with a post of a blog type. Like this post here, actually. Yeah, that’s it. He was speaking to Charlene the punk and in the post at once.
“There’s — this doctor she met.”
Two days later they met at the marina down by the sea. Jeffrey Phillips continued his story he began alongside the second breakfast pizza on Friday. “I realized that this place was kind of like the Virgin Islands — St. Croix — with its twin cities. Duncan was here now after all. We tried *so* hard to recruit him. I had the Psycho help. King I believe was his last name. ‘Don’t shoot till you see the whites of their eyes,’ he told me King told him. He played national player of the year Mourning to at least a draw, but that was the other one, the other Duncan.”
“I’m confused,” shouted Charlene the punk over the now crashing waves. Jeffrey realized they should move some place quieter. “Come with me,” he exclaimed. “I want to show you something else.” They were heading for the catacombs.
“Yeah, I’ve got one like it back home,” Jeffrie Phillips speaks about the geode on the mantlepiece before him. “‘Cept mine is pink and and *maybe* a tiny bit smaller, maybe.” Much smaller, he thinks here. But I like it just as much. Not everything has to be *big*, pheh. Except in — well, he’s got that department covered anyway, he he. He can always (secretly) lord that over the people he meets. The girls flock to him, Charlene the punk being only the latest in a long line. Too bad she liked the catacombs. I was hoping I could get rid of her that way. But her mettle has been put to the test and she survived. Round 2 coming up — only about a 1/3rd make it to round 2.
“Do you know what you have to do?” Jeffrie Phillips knew that David A.B.’s diamond-like brain lie within this new host with voice deep and bass. He couldn’t look him in the whites of his eyes. This never happened.
“Um.” Jeffrie instead looks down at his shoes randomly scuffing the floor. “Sure.”
“You must coordinate the two places, there and here. This is a connector. Take it and place it with the other one. Make sure they face each other. You know the rest.”
Jeffrie Phillips didn’t know the rest but he could guess. Alchemical sex, large to small, or one inside the other. Maybe he shouldn’t have lied about the size. He decides to tell the new host. “Listen, um, Jim.”
But Jim would have nothing of it. “Coordinate!” he demanded, which made
Jeffrie Phillips quickly gather up the green geode and high tail it outta there.
He stood back after setting down the vibrating green geode next to his considerably smaller pink geode on the stairwell table and watched them excitedly *coordinate* (adjust in size to become equal, then “kiss”). They are merged now. 2n1. What happens next will be up to them.
“Audrey’s place,” he spoke over to still tagging along Charlene. He didn’t mind, as long as he could use her for a sounding board every couple of minutes. “Right down there. With *him*. I see their green dots in the middle of the night. I know what they do.”
“Jeffrie,” she urged.
“I know, I know.” Jeffrie Phillips sighed. “Stop dwelling.”
But he couldn’t. Next stop: the Gasthause, as close as Jeffrie (and Charlene) could get without actually trespassing on *his* property. The doctor. I bet he is, I bet he is, Jeffrie Phillips thought over and over in his mind as he stared up toward the structure owned by a man from the future. And the past. Along with the present of course. He said his thoughts aloud again. It was here, for the 12th time today (not coincidentally, the amount of sounding board moments between Jeffrie and herself), Charlene considered leaving this clearly possessed man. Audrey, Audrey, Audrey. That’s *all* he ponders about.
“You don’t understand,” he defended himself after being called out again. “I was just wandering around, having a good time, poking my head in here and there. When I stumbled into that cabin and found *her* chair. Just sitting there. Like a sacred altar — which it was, actually. For me, and her. When we were *together*.”
Ah, a secret submissive, though Charlene here, understanding more in the moment. She knew about such chairs. Well — *two* can play that game.
“*I* have a chair. Back at my place in Colona.”
“Won’t be the same,” he quickly replied, putting her in her place again. Audrey was queen. She was merely a pawn in a much bigger game.
Jeffrie Phillips decides to try something different out with Charlene the punk tonight. “Are you there?” he im’s her.
“Yeah, I think so,” she replies back after a lag in her parallel spot. “There’s a rhino, so…”
“Yep, that’s it. So… go ahead and see if you can get through the door. Then I’ll try with the gate.”
“What happened to your last girl?” asked new gal pal Hina 3 days later at Teepot’s sake bar (and art gallery).
“Ah, she was just in a different place than me,” he spoke truthfully. “I wish her well.”
“Your place or mine?” Hina then asked boldly, not wanting to waste the moment.
“Mine.” But Jeffrie returned to his downtown apartment alone and without another tag along girl. He seemed to be flipping through them more rapidly these days. Must be the heat, he wrote to end.
Baker’s new friend Appleyon eyeing the Second Life globe spinning ’round the top of Teepot’s schoolhouse tower and noticing there’s no Orient to go along with the Occident. Pre-June 2009 he determined. Before *apples* became oranges, ha ha. He he he. Ho ho ho ho.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” asked Appleyon about his hot specialty tea. The cup he holds disappears after a well timed last sip. “All is good here. All is positive.”
“Yeah, thanks for that,” still sipping Baker Bloch replies. He was really grateful for getting such a quality hot beverage vending machine for the low low price. 10 lindens! Basically giving it away, he thinks satisfactorily. His cup also vanishes, but he wasn’t quite finished.
“You have to stand 2 feet from the machine, the cup disappears after 30 seconds and can’t be rerezzed, and it’s only stocked for today. Goodbye for now!” Appleyon disappears himself after these rapid fire declarations. Baker is left alone in his new bakery, pondering what kind of deal he made with that devil of a guy. *Was* he really his friend? Or an old old enemy rearing its ugly, mean spirited head again?
Baker Bloch goes over to the machine and orders another hot beverage.
Probably a mixture of the two, he thinks while starting to sip again. Ahh, so good!
“I may never go back to Mainland, Hucka Doobie. I like it here. I have Bake’s Bakery now. Like it was meant to be.”
“What about Cassandra City?” asked Hucka Doobie logically. “What of NWES City? It appears you need Mainland still.” She wiped her highlighted nose with her sleeve. Always forgetting her handkerchief these days, arrgh! Stupid nose.
“Both, then.” Like vending machine salesman Appleyon was both a new friend and an old old enemy, he thought to himself.
“Baker, you’ll have to excuse me,” Hucka Doobie blurted with this, stifling an urge to snort. “I have to go somewhere and blow my nose!”