Sunklands 2023 Early 06

beginning of the end

When they finally arrive it looks like they were expected. Aztec Warrior. Nikki. One and the same.

She steps out of the caravan missing a right hand. And a head, but never mind about that. We’ve seen that before anyway. Blonde as rope.

“Swastika?” Jer started, pointing. Benny giggled, just enough to be heard. Aztec Warrior went inside and produced a box, containing not a left handed gun to kill them, as they might have feared, but information. Mitford Unity. An error between the legs.

“She wants to be heard out,” states the handless one. “Your *Maw*.”

(to be continued)


Squared Root City, the hoped for functioning capital of Lower Austra, is swimming with changes. Club Zero in the upper left corner of the sim sized burg is gone, and that’s just the start. Nulled out. What’s the square or root number now? Same as the number itself, it seems. We’ll see what develops.


Her suddenly talented mother came over to help rehearse the Crazy Blue act, still on despite the Horns being away in New Mexico. Soo shy; doesn’t want anyone to see her yet. Still blonde as rope. Is this who it seemed to be?


Amidst all the construction, the Mustard Ketchup Kid still plays ball with his sister Ventura who hails from California and who knows him as Bert.

There is more forestland than previously fer sure, and whose trees hide many secrets…

… sometimes of a bizarre nature, like these people locked in the landscape. We’ve met them before too. The farthest guy back is still talking on the phone to his bro who is also his doppleganger. “I’m *here* (giggle). Where are *you*?” (etc.).

Shelley spies them on a break from rehearsals and has trouble believing her Umbrella Club enhanced peepers at first. “Whaaatt?” she can’t help but emit, but they don’t hear her. Wrong dimension.

She then finds an underground red door and everything goes to Hell.


“How’s everything going with our daughter’s rehearsals?” Riiinnngg.

“Hold on. I have to take this.”


“It’s kind of weighed heavily toward the west,” W/India (?) spoke of the illuminated pins on the big Nautilus map in de skies, indicating recent activity.

“What’s your suggestion?” But then Axis-Windmill or whoever realized it was staring him in the face. Yd Island. Island of Babylon here on this map generated by another.

But then he realized that maybe the highlighted pins weren’t as random as they seemed. Nightsity is directly above Squared Root City, for instance, and they appear basically next to each other in the text of this here photo-novel (delete discussion of number).


He found himself walking out of a hospital back onto the mean streets, the surgery to remove the points from his ears a total success. Only present girlfriend, future wife Wheeler Wilson had sent him a get well card but that was enough. Reno, it will cost you Reno, they said about the fee. He watched a man die there and it could have been him. He had no choice.

He recalled the dog that was also a spider. 8 shoes on the steps of a porch. A bird indicates. He is driving in a car procured from the Mountain in the Air, red in color and 57 in number, as in years (this time). But it was not him. Not really. The ears, the ears! he understood, sensing the overlap, the fading out and then the fading in. They’ve changed *everything*.

(to be continued)

Man in

“See you’re back to exploring Nautilus,” said Sally the bartender, part of the group mind.

“I am.”

“See you’re back to red and yellow. Not all black. Stay that way. Reno,” she warned.

“I remember.”

“Don’t bring it back.”


“Soo, what you doing in *these* parts (of Nautilus)?”

“Welll.” He scratches one of his ears with this, grateful to have them trimmed again. Cost him Reno but it gained him more, all of Nevada in essence. Middletown, or at least future access to. “I was going to hike the trails of Quirrola Forest but it seems I’m blocked from access.”

“Go down a bit,” suggested Sally. “Toward the coast. Go in from the east. No ban lines from that direction. 1/2 of the sim is banned. Up here; down that road. That where you came from?”

“Yeah. So from the east. I guess this would be from the south. And over 1/2way up, like you said.”


“Well thanks. I guess I’ll be on my way.”

“Hold on,” and she poured him a drink she already had 1/2 made. Grasshopper, extra kick. Kick-ass kick. “Get this in you before you go. It’ll help you think. You’ll be pondering Middletown thoughts as quick as you can say $499,000.”

Newt wondered if that would be the ultimate cost but he took the drink and starting swigging it anyway. 2 gulps and gone. He’d done a lot of drinking in the Old West, the wild times. Had to chug fast or else someone else would do it for you. And that someone else usually could make you dead in no time too.

“Another?” spoke Sally, seeing the empty glass. “1 million, then. The population of Las Vegas.”

Dare he?

(to be continued)


This kind of happened to me today and I kind of automatically made it into fiction tonight. Thought some might enjoy here. filed under: 2 drinks might thrill him, 2 drinks might kill him; removal of ear defects

Boy could he think now (!). He knew to steal the grasshopper green vehicle parked behind the bar; started it up like he was testing the engine or sumtin and just drove it through the wall outta there. Sally gasped at this and then began smiling as she stared at the hole and the litter of bricks and mortar, heard the truck zoom down the dirt road outside toward the beginning of the trail. Barrier, PHEH. He knew better now. 1 million was a small price for what he understood. He could take this lime colored thing and drive it all the way to Heaven or Hell, his choice. Because *nothing* was real here.

He asked the handy bluetooth to play the entirety of the Cardiacs’ double album “Sing to God” as he continued into the great beyond. The greatest album he’d never hear otherwise because of the ears and all. Now it didn’t matter.


Blue Mountain from basically the exact opposite direction pictured in post 00370515 of the last section. Yes, as predicted I have moved my hiking emphasis to the back of this mountain now to escape the hotter temperatures and emergence of poison ivy, etc.

Evidence of human activity in the area. Or something else.

The highlight of the day had to be an abandoned house filled with cryptic graffiti. Like multiple warnings on the outer walls about it being a trap. I did not venture too far inside because of this. Thanks!

Question marks abound about the place.

“‘Abandoned’ too,” with 22222… on a door frame.

Upstairs: a throne?

He’s here. Who’s *he*?

After exiting, outdoor sounds like babbling brooks seem sweeter.


He is greeted in Heaven by the Man in the Middle, the Man About Time, some say. Just that damn important.

The knowledge and power of the center of it all, Fife to some, was drying up. Time to heal. Time to drive the Chevy to the levee, or at least a Dodge. Man About Time was waiting. On his heels drunk.

June 14, 2012 – the pond at Fife’s Grove Park. It has since been reconstructed.

The fated journey actually started here In Real Life, in the shadow of Pink Peak and exactly on the perimeter of the encompassing 1 square mile pink circle I’ve put around it. Shine is the place of the drinks. Brookshine, let’s say, a portmanteau of sorts, and with the trailhead of perhaps now inaccessible — because of the poison ivy and all — Mystery Gorge just beyond.

Once she was Alysha. He sighs, thinking of his former girlfriend, like if Thelma Lou left Barney for Sherriff Andy Taylor, attracted to the shine of the bigger badge. Another King over Bishop (or Rook) situation, then. Or a King’s Bishop anyhoot.

note: Throne House on the other side of Blue Mtn. from Pink Peak (place of Turtle Head) on this map my actually be Tyrone. Texas Pete. Gonna play with that.

“*Miss* Ouri,” Man About Time dutifully wanted to say but held his almost always mild tongue. No need to bring Texas Pete into this, his mama always said about verbal acidities. She trained him well; he absorbed everything he could from her. Poor Mama, he lamented. Hanging with the angels now.

And that’s about the last we see of Man About Time until now, speaking time-wise.

(to be continued)

faceless x 2

“I was experimented on.”

“Your mother should have never gotten involved.”


painting the Azure Door


No azure door here, Hucka, but a reflection of a door across the road, garage in that case. Interesting patterning.

And almost across the road from that: an anomaly. Doesn’t clear up using any angle of view.

Then looking the opposite direction: ladder boy, we’ll call him, someone who seems to have unusually short legs for his stature, the opposite of what a basketball player might possess. Illusion, as it turns out from other directions, but perhaps still meaningful given all else. His head overlaps the ladder’s bottom rung. Dressed in Azure. Are we suppose to climb further in order to find the true door? (no answer) Or are we suppose to look sideways from what we are doing? (no answer) Maybe some combo of Heaven and Hell we’re looking for, hmm.

Then in going to a handy realty site called, we find the actual Azure Door for the house… and in digging deeper we find the residence is owned by a Door. Actually Dorr but close enough.

A personal business of some kind this was suppose to be, but no more info than that in my searchings.

Through the same site we can check out the place via drone video, taking it in from every angle like a 3d cubist painting. The blurred house in Google Streetview across the way turns out to be quite ordinary looking. Wonder why that occurred? We can guess: substitution.

As we keep flying around, we spot the Horns coming around the corner of Woo and Crab Wood and Chuck in their Real Life silver(-blue) truck rented in Silver City. Once again they’ve been expected.

Ghergie silhouette

After all the bad news lately, Newt is encouraged by finding a purple cube in a residence owned by a Sands, obvious nod to The Void again, an important important concept now in these here photo-novels, numbers growing bi- or tri-monthly. Things (post generation) seem to be slowing down a bit lately as virtual shifts more to physical, Our Second Lyfe into Real Life. He’d just driven a lime green truck, color symbolic of irreality itself, through a wall in a bar and down a dusty road outta here. Found the center again: Fife. But the levee was dry. Barney was off his tits again, trading places with Otis Campbell as town drunk. Just like in, what was it, Lassie? Anyway, it all seemed fruitless, especially since Squared Root City went away sometime in the past several days. Nowhere now to further the plot of Shelley, with help from her keyboard talented mom, rehearsing her Crazy Blue act. She beamed in just yesterday to find abandoned land, the whole sim of Squared Root now vacant. PHEH (add that to the PHEH category, folks!). And also the bigger chunk of Nightsity got deleted about the same time so perhaps no furthering of the story there either, seemingly, although a small part remains in that case. And so tonight finds Newt just roaming around his new-ish neighborhood in what he’s deemed Lemon Free State (independent from both Lower Austra and Wild West of Nautilus’ declared continental states), trying to figure out if it’s all worth it, the monthly rent to the Lindens, etc. Death wish taking over again. Then the cube: encouragement for a change! Perhaps Grant Hill and his Sprite drinking ways is still around after all, lemon combined with lime to make it all taste better, not bitter.


The blue phone rings in the Sands house just as writer Barry X. Vampire is ready to head back to the Omega continent for more excitement and adventure. Whatever happens, we we always have that. The End, which also loops back to The Beginning, ouroboros complete. Must be Wheeler, as in Wilson. Better get it.

(to be continued)


A rare Wheeler free zone, thinks Newt, still in Ghergie. Her and her Omega continent influence can’t reach me here. But who to talk to? I suppose there’s always Edward. Mustn’t have been with them in this scene, this act. Edward, yes.

He came like Adam but he left a decent man. “Have we met before?” Newt started after the makeover.

“Dunno. Let me check,” and he began to look through the blog again.

“No no, don’t do that. Let’s just talk. No history, we’ll assume.” Newt had a subject at hand. “Found a nine over there, a number. Then it was gone. Then there was a forest spirit hiding inside the ruins of the temple it was formerly just outside of, leaning against almost. Or maybe the ground, the terrain, was just tilted a bit.”

“Um hmm.” Edward Daigle nodded. He’d heard about missing numbers before. Like 4, the only way to reach The Moon. Missing and you’re stuck with terrestrial. But he didn’t say this aloud. He was thinking of his history if he couldn’t politely browse it by jumping outside. I come from a spaceship, he ponders. No: that was Jem. Where’s Jem? It was as if he were waking up from a dream.

“I think the woods are playing tricks on us again. I’ve spent a good amount of time in them lately. Having so much fun!”

Edward figured this was Real Life talk once more from the white headed man. He wanted to stick with virtual. He suddenly wanted to move out of this parcel, contact Wheeler again. Wilson. But the green tower beside the ruined temple prevented it, the same object that probably manifested the 9, he later understood. “Glory be,” he decided to finally say. “Glory be,” he repeated.

And suddenly he was back.


Now friendless-in-the-moment Newt got a name for the spirit: Colon.

“*I’m* your friend,” it seemed to beckon with his mysterious glowing green crystals and knowing smile.

Wheeler Wilson had been able to reach Barry X. Vampire in another part of the sim but couldn’t here. Thanks to the blocking tower of purest green. More symbols fell from it as Newt began to chat with his newest chum, the one who knew him so well if not visa versa. They had time now. Reprieve.

sides (sandwich?)

“My Mama doesn’t like the way I crucify the Lord in vain. Defend yourself, you and your Crazy Blue.”

She lowered her arms. She went to a place earmarked for such a discussion. Still on the BIONaz Gulch-Nightsity line (of sims) — in this case Dottieback. She checked the whole line last night, just hopping around on it randomly, spotting a potential structure and then beaming in. Worked in BIONaz Gulch’s Fantasyland (pictured above), in Othello’s Nightsity. Maybe it can work again. The “city” here has to develop a bit to make it useful, though, she thinks from her position of power, standing above the line instead of being absorbed. Crucified Christ indeed.

Changing back into her standard garb, she stared at the lines on her screen. Nautilus once more. Continental centerpiece. She smiled at the insights.

Yes this will work, she said, suddenly planning a party down at her new beach house, Edward included. She hasn’t given up on him. Omega. Arthur Kill will come to understand the difference between novel and reality. Takes two to know.


Nautilus/North/Rooster’s Peninsula

“Someone’s knocking at the door… Dorr.”

“Oh it’s probably just Shelley again. Ignore it this time. I don’t feel like walking down all those stairs again.”

“I hear ya.”

Dorr looks at her ordinary nails, at least compared to her companion Iss’ Edward Scissorhands like ones. She was thinking of her appearance from the last time. Crazy Blue outfit my ass. Drunk off her tits obviously.

“Maybe…” attempts Iss. “Maybe she really owns the place, like she said. Maybe… you should give it back to her. I’ve read the blog.”

“So have I,” shot Dorr back. She decides to end the suspense. She looks remotely at the visitor far far below, Azure a barrier between her and the inside.

But it wasn’t Shelley this time. Instead: Horns, Left and Right. What gives? she thinks. The Red Devil. Very unexpected!


And so we end photo-novel 37 with more questions than answers, per usual. Many doors have been open; only a couple closed. Hucka Doobie has assumed a major role in the blog once more, this time hanging with artist or at least wannabe artist Barry De Boy, kind of Baker Bloch in a new, different form, perhaps a role he’s been dreaming. New Mexican locations dominated the 1st 3rd of the novel, maybe the longest extended time I’ve spent away from Our Second Lyfe in these here works. But the archipelago continent of Nautilus, still my virtual home, eventually exerted its pull, with all of section 04 being set there — concerned a party held by 2 fans of Edward Daigle, which Shelley Struthers also attended. Shelley, continuing her role from novels 35 and 36, remains our feature protagonist in 37. Also at the party Shelley met Amos T. Sandman again who has shown up in previous novels, and who is then re-encountered by same in section 03 (the events of 03, time-wise, come before 04). Section 05 brings into the picture a new Blue Mountain location I’ve been exploring this spring ultimately called Pink Peak. Mixed in with its posts comes more Nautilus stuff — I had Shelley just hop around to different locations now, exploring virtual reality as I simultaneously did Reality Reality up in the True World. Section 06 attempts to wrap all this energy up with mixed results, I feel. New Mexico makes a reappearance. Newt and Wheeler, Shelley’s father and mother, show up, continuing stories of their own. Squared Root City, where I had the first part of this section set, was suddenly and unexpectedly abandoned, leaving only an empty beige landscape. Other locations that I was working through or hoped to work through were also lost. I became discouraged. Then Newt, just randomly teleporting around my new Nautilus home, found a purple cube in a house owned by a man named Sand, resonating with Sandman’s purple cube populated realm from section 03. I had renewed hope through the discovery. I was still on a trail, a path. All was not lost. Lemon Free State still remains my home. I deposit 31 Real Life dollars into the bank of the Limey Lindens and continue…