00420301 (another VA neck)
Unable to write today he watched her from afar, wondering what she was waiting for. Hope she doesn’t abstract today, he thinks. Sometimes just doing nothing can set it in. Maybe I better go over there, talk to her, interact with her, check on her. Make sure she’s okay. Keep her mind occupied. Maybe talk about the past. And the future. But not the present. Never the present.
I wonder where this Shelley girl is, she ponders from the balcony like Juliet to his Romeo. She had an antipoison on hand just in case she made the same mistake as in the past. White Stone — check on it.
She smells the red roses and that makes her feel better. Arrive by sea and I’ll be waiting and watching, she ordered the girl who was actually a woman indeed. The Woman. Unless that’s Parasol.
Ah yes, that must be her pulling in there at the marina, she observes from her castle up on the hill. Better tell Amos I’ll be indisposed for a couple of hours.
(to be continued)
00420302
“I found this in the same county as White Stone, Hucka. Merry and Mary, just like in St. Merry’s (?) Church.”
“Follow up on that,” she requests. So I did. I talked to Pastor Ziegler about the weird conjunction.
—–
“That’s interesting it’s Mary Ball there as well.”
“As well?” I prompted.
“Yes. Mary Ball is the mother of George Washington. And it happens that it’s Pitch Darkly’s Mary’s maiden name too. Can’t be coincidence.”
“Again,” I replied.
“Especially since they also have a kid named George, come to think of it. Not sure how old the boy would be now. Maybe even a teenager?”
“He was growing up fast the last time I checked,” I agreed
“Anyway (*sigh*), this is certainly a mystery indeed. Another Virginia neck mystery.”
“First Susan and Shadow. Now this. Lively… variant names of both Pitch Penny and Catch Penny, inferring a battery in baseball. Balls are more lively than they use to be back in the dead ball era, before the death of Indian Ray Chapman via beaning and the cleaning up of (the ball and) the game, giving hitters the upper hand over pitchers (and catchers) from that day forward. Martyr, some say because of it.”
“I’m glad you are confiding all this to me,” spoke Pastor Stephan Ziegler of the 1st Church of St. Merry’s — yes, that’s the name — who seemed just happy to be part of the town story again. Aisle of Palms… stated he loves it in all its interesting twists and turns. I thought to myself that he’s probably just glad I didn’t instead go to Rev. Amos T. Sandman across the street at the rival Fries with Cheese Church with my insights — gives him the upper hand there as well. But of course Amos is rarely in the building because of the smell. Allergic to cheese of all things. And they built the church out of the material, as traditional states. No one can really stay there that long without wearing clothes pins on their noses, and so that became part of their traditional as well, part of ecclesiastical lore.
Fries with Cheese office manager Martha Lamb takes note of Baker’s exit from her second floor office window while getting ready to go home herself. She can free up the nostrils at last. Worst part of the job — everything else she loves, just like Stephan, who she perceives as a direct arch-rival, assuming that role for the mainly absent Reverend, she feels.
Walsh County (Pitch Darkly)
“Look dear, I caught another one (!).”
“Hold on, Mary. Hold on. It’s Baker calling.”
“Baker? Hi!”
(reply)
“Yeah, we’re getting along great. A little cold of course but it is North–”
(reply)
“What was that? Hold on, let me take this darn Russian cap off with the ear flaps and all.”
—–
“Okay go ahead, sir.”
(reply)
“Yeah, I heard that now.” He covers the phone with his hand and whispers over to fishing Mary. “Baker says he needs to talk to us as soon as we get back to town.” He listens again…
(reply)
“Mary Ball, eh? Well that’s *one* of her names.”
(reply)
“George, right.” He removes the phone from his ear but doesn’t cover the face up this time while saying over to his wife in a louder voice: “He wants to know how you acquired the Killing Shack, you know, the one over in Epping Woods.”
“Why does he want to know that?” She was happy fishing right now. She didn’t want to be reminded of that horrendous past on her well deserved vacation. Calm, she said to herself. Caalllmm.
“I’ll ask him.” Phone to bare ear again. “Baker, what’s going on?”
(reply)
“Virginia neck country again, eh? Just like with—”
(reply)
“Dead ball era, huh? That’s *my* era, where I came from. Where the *ERA* was real low, he he. Get it? My era. My ER–”
(reply)
“Okay, thanks. See you when we get back.”
(reply)
“We will. Thanks.” And Baker Bloch hangs up on the other side.
—–
“Did you mention the antipoison?”
“No,” Baker responds to Hucka. “I thought he’d had enough to chew on today. Or drink — something.”
“Agreed I suppose. So we’re on for next Tuesday?”
“8 o’clock sharp.”
(to be continued)
00420304
“Are you disappointed that she didn’t want to sell the castle property back to you, Shelley?”
Sigh. “No, not really. Gave me an excuse to look around the place, see what she’d done. That’s good enough. For a consolation.”
“It’s pretty expensive still,” says Arthur Kill. “Baker only pays about 1 1/2 times that amount for the Aisle of Palms rental as a whole and that’s about, let’s see, 2 1/2 times as much land.”
“Do you still speak to him?” Shelley Johnston Struthers asked eagerly.”
“N-no. I thought *you* spoke to him.”
“No.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm, indeed.” Both understood that Baker Bloch, owner of the virtual town we as a family rent now, didn’t seem to know the couple’s whereabouts. They were off the radar. And then both also thought about George, aka The Musician. Was it the same with him?
“We should go down into town tonight. Go shopping and dining.”
Shelley looked out the window on their perch atop Yellowmoon Ridge at all the snow falling. Then she looked around the house at all the elephant decoration. Just came with the rental — no planning on their part. “Nah, I’m fine staying here tonight. That special on indie animation is debuting on Youtube at 8. Then they’re replaying a doubleheader of ‘The Pink City’ and ‘The Amazing Digital Circus’ at 9.”
“Love that stuff,” opined hubby Arthur, envisioning other stuff at 10. This 3rd honeymoon (or was it their 4th?) was working out swell. Cheap rental *exactly* on the spot where the old Ant Castle use to exist. Current owner didn’t even know anything about that storied history. Arthur had a hard time believing it — still does. He checks his watch not on his wrist. 7:45. Time to pop open the first bottle of wine? Why not.
They ended up drinking the 1st glass to Biff Carter, which was a strange toast indeed. Have to think about that.
00420305 (blow the doors off something (also: Rabbit))
Time for Mary Ball and Pitch Usurpius Darkly to move on to the next leg of their extended fishing vacation…
…. Fox Island at Endlessly Antipodal. Note that Antipodal is very close to antipoison, almost as if it was in the same jacket near the same pocket. Juliet-like, balcony standing Sepisexton we’re talking about here again and her hidden vial of the latter. Just in case, as she puts it. The former is included in picks by not one but two Yellowmoon Ridge landowners who seem unconnected to each other, er, otherwise (where we’ve just seen Shelley and Arthur). That’s why I knew I had to send the Darklys or someone else in my family of avatars there to check it out, interact with the landscape and perhaps the residents, if any exist.
Philosophy time now: Everything in Our Second Lyfe is connect to each other as if in a fractal environment. It all drills down to the same thing over and over. Only Outside can save us, something beyond. Haze County where I actually live up in the Real World is an obvious, top level way to escape this void. Similarly virtual but much more intensely verisimilitudinous Red Dead planet too — if I can figure out how to get Jim Randolph the Bastard Pirate out of that fox body and into a human one again in St. Dennis, its only full fledged city and what some call the 8th wonder of that world. GoogleEarth and associated Street View is yet another way to latch onto something more real. Thing is, Our Second Lyfe is losing energy as games keep developing way above and beyond it. If it weren’t for the ability to create. Oh, and also the avatar customization and the incredible creativity of Our Second Lyfe residents in designing clothes, buildings, vehicles, all sorts of things. I seem to need to relay this to the reader of my blog to illustrate that I’m in sort of a tug of war between it and the rest of reality, including even other virtual worlds (and specifically, at least at this point, Red Dead Redemption 2, even though I don’t yet own the game itself, ha). I mean, right now in one of my other computer windows I’m looking at something that shouldn’t be possible. Something in Mary Ball’s old Killing Shack now located at the bottom of a lake in Decker on the original Bellissaria continent. How did I get to this point?
Then there’s the problem of OSL laaaggg.
So here we finally return to Pitch Darkly and Mary landing in their small fishing boat on what’s called Fox Island in the River of Bear. Of course it has other names — no surprise there — including Squirrel Island. Because of this little fellow, currently surrounded by sniffing foxes checking him out. But he’s actually a chipmunk; that’s what the foxes have surmised as well, being versed in Endlessly Antipodal geography and the naming of local things. “We’re still okay; still on top,” one speak-thinks to the other, actually being a part of one soul beneath the separate exteriors, a distinct advantage they have over humans.
Maybe we shouldn’t be so hasty in switching Jim Randolph the Bastard Pirate back into a human body himself. See what he can still uncover as an urban fox.
00420306
*Interesting*. Part of Mary Ball’s Epping Woods remains over near VHC City on the Heterocera continent, although the Killing Shack there where vampire Pitch Darkly and his partner in crime and fellow vampire Buster Damm took their victims for blood sacrifices is gone. I guess that would go along with it reappearing at the bottom of a lake over on Bellissaria. And Pepper and her gallery of abstract sculptures is there too (as I wrote that, I sneezed). Hard to forget her. She’s the one who drove Pitch (and Buster) away from VHC City in the first place, back back back to Collagesity also on the same continent at that time but many sims away to the south (Rubi Woods). We’re talking about storied lands here and tales that are approaching decades in length. Tales of banishment and at least partial redemption.
Nearby: The Void swallows.
00420307 (failed (no dance))
“I’m going to give you something at the end of your trial run that will seal the deal,” spoke Pot-D Sub Vice Regional Deputy of Internal External Affairs Buster Damm sometime during their meeting in the southern part of VHC City, probably more towards its end rather than the beginning. “It’s a skele-heart pendant. You wear it around your neck and we can monitor you at all times, know your whereabouts, what you’ve been eating, how your bowel movements are going, so on. Not creepy at all, right?” he tried to lighten the mood on the very serious situation. Crack Pot-D agent Duncan had been gone for weeks, maybe years. Buster had finally caved in to getting a replacement. But not without some serious study. His plan is that there will be *2* agents this time backing up each other, one black, as it were (like Duncan), and one white. Damm had strong suspicions that Duncan had disappeared because of the color of his skin. The southern part of the Omega continent where he was last seen — the so-called Dixie of Our Second Lyfe — remains in a quite primitive state in terms of racial justice. People like that could vanish into the night and not be heard of again. Buster said a lot of these same things to Karl, who graduated top of his class at Marydel State University of Connecticut’s Massachusetts. Nick, his potential new partner, did the same at another prestigious if traditionally rival college. Buster arranged a meeting between the two that morning. He had to split, he said, anxiously eyeing the light continuing to wash across the table they sat at as the sun rose on another hateful day. But not before saying, “take away the skin color and you guys have a lot in common. I think you’ll get along swell.” If you don’t try to kill each other, Buster also thought while he walked away but kept to himself. Worth a try. Results could swing wildly either way.
10:15:
“Hi, I’m Nick. You must be Karl. Putter there partner, he he.”
He couldn’t shake back because the matching animation in his inventory didn’t work for some reason. Nick was insulted that the shaking gesture wasn’t reciprocated. Karl was offended by Nick grazing his uneaten croissant with his extended hand — rude, he thought. The awkwardness continued when Nick said, “Hey if you’re not going to eat that croissant mind if I do? I’m starving.” He ended up eating his soup as well since his rather dirty looking shirtsleeve grazed the top of that in reaching to grab the croissant. Things had gotten off to a rocky start, Buster’s fears instead of hopes beginning to be realized. Maybe, he considered later, he should have just tried harder to find Duncan, find out what the real story is behind his disappearance. Maybe Dixie is not as bad as it use to be, hmm. One way to find out.
He left them trading punches behind the SoSo Bakery after yet another argument over a meal and went on his way.
“Get that nasty ass hand outta here you cretin!”
00420308
She tried to see the town of Morgan’s Gap through the clouds and mist but no go. The snow was falling just too hard. Probably no way to get down there either. They’d have to entertain themselves at home again. How about…
… counting how many elephants there are around the house before going to bed.
—–
Later she had that dream where she was dressed in 2 pepper shirts at once, #s 1 and 2 as it were. She intended to sing The Beatles’ “Strawberry Fields”, always starting with an apology, playing the role of Lennon, that she left it off of the “Sgt. Pepper” album, blaming the omission on Big Business. “If I could only go back… but, after all, that’s what this song is all about.”
00420309 (all together now)
Nothing there in the cat house. She begins again.
Green red and blue predominate going up the stairs.
And then yellow at the top as the light slightly shifts to show the star’s interior.
Looking further along the same line: TILE.
00420310
“We should really think about renting this 4096 parcel, Baker Bloch,” said Cheesehead Martha Lamb, really trying to help, really trying to further the cause of her hometown Aisle of Palms into the future. “I mean, look at the colors on the sign. TILE again, even.”
“Yess,” spoke a still unconvinced Baker, true owner of town since he was the Mr. Moneybags of the place. He’d have to pay the extra rent. He’d have to find ways to cut back in the real world to justify the cost. $50 artistic allowance each month. This would top it out. Maybe unsubscribe to a TV app…
“You can build a new and true TILE Temple. You can make a true aisle of palms leading up to it. The place is desecrated as it stands. Part of the temple destroyed, palms removed. Look over there (!).”
So Baker Bloch turned around with Martha Lamb (who was actually Wheeler playing a role) to stare at the missing parts of the temple, the missing palms, even Danny’s trailer on the side of Fal Mouth Moon gallery. Who will clean up the bathrooms there if Janitor Danny doesn’t have a place to live?
“2 months,” spoke Martha. “2 month trial. 30 bucks extra during that span. What could it really hurt?”
He (I) counted it up in his (my) head. Close to 16000 square meters, almost a 4th of a sim. Cooperative neighbors. It all seemed set up.
“Alright,” Baker said. “I’ll probably do it.”
“Fine. I’ll tell Stephan. *We’ll* help out with the money.”
Sure you will, thought Baker. Sure you will.
00420311
In the middle of the night, I decided to fix the deletion issues of Aisle of Palms myself and keep it from Wheeler until later. No need to log in as her tonight too. I got rid of the damaged Temple of TILE after placing a new one atop it, moving the whole thing several yards to the south to hopefully take care of the property line issue. Planted two new palms at the pool beside it to replace the two that were deleted under similar circumstances, moving them a bit south as well. I chose not to restore the trailer on the back side of Fal Mouth Moon, and instead focused on creating a new living space in this very interesting building behind it, with the same creator as several other structures in town already (Herbert Gold and April Mae Flowers’ Gothic Deco House; police station; base of Fries with Cheese Church (the part that’s not cheese)).
Interesting: only after setting it up did I realize it had a basement to go along with the other 3 floors, ha. So I had to dig one so that the rooms would be accessible. I can put the house toilet there, and maybe a washer and dryer. More details soon if needed.
And so the other consequence of this is that I’ve decided not to rent more land for Aisle of Palms but to keep things as is: cheap and still pretty large. Could change my mind but probably not. I’ll gauge Wheeler’s reaction tomorrow when I tell her the news. I don’t think she wants to rent it herself but I could be wrong. Hard to judge what is obviously my more earthy, feminine side.
00420312
The 12 prim “elegant tree” outside thrashed about like it was a storm all the time. He guessed he could get use to it. He contemplated again asking Baker Bloch to turn the building with his new apartment around, having it face east instead of west, over the similarly new Temple Aisle we’ll call it for now. The one controlled by Wheeler, along with her developing bar next door, just north of this building as the temple is directly east. Fascinating recent developments happening in town, he admitted. He’d moved (copied) most of his Cass City apartment decorations back over to here since nothing seemed to be going on in that Maebaleia continent city, however interesting the layout of the full sim burg remains to him, He was head of the city council over there and he’s probably the same over here on the Jeogeot continent in Aisle of Palms. He served as the same in Kangerootown, actually. Like many in our family of avatars, he gets around, serves useful purposes in a lot of places.
He gets up and stares through the far window of the room at the ghost in the cemetery the thrashy tree is positioned above, an old pirate he gathers. He wonders which one? Bluebird, he guesses solely because of the blue-ish glow about the apparition.
He remembers Wheeler asked him to bring some bar stools over to her developing establishment next door. Unable to concentrate on his letter to an old friend, he decides to head over and see how she’s doing — saw the green dot that represents her presence still lingering over there. He’ll check his inventory when he’s able to eyeball the situation but he’s sure he can help her out.
Thing is about this building is you have to make sure you close the doors behind you or they remain open — they don’t automatically close like most in Our Second Lyfe. And there are so many of them here. Newt dreads getting the 1st heating bill because he’s kind of an absentminded fellow, lost in deep thought most of the time. He’s left them open more than he remembers to shut. If only Wheeler was *here*, in this 2 room apartment with him, to help out instead of being over at the Blue Feather all the time. At least that’s where he thinks she is — another thing to ask her, actually. On his way…
… but not before staring out the hallway window toward the ocean, glittery in the moonlight. Okay, maybe he won’t ask Baker to turn the building around.
—–
“4 enough, Wheeler?”
“Yes but we’ll have to turn them around of course.”
“Oh, ahem. Sure.”
“And you’re sitting on some eggs I left over there in a frying pan. May want to clean yourself up afterwards.”
“Ahh, ha ha. I see.” Might as well have been on his face.
(to be continued)
“Yellow Jack” shaping up (also: Conejo)
She was at the point of auditioning acts for the new bar. This one was a stand up comedian from Cork.
“What do you call a parade of rabbits hopping backwards?”
“Receding hare lines,” he answers himself after a beat. She finds that joke especially pertinent, since she copied a lot of this decor from a place named Rabbit Island.
Rabbit Island items: free to copy yourself!
“I don’t need to hear any more,” she spoke up. “You’re on the bill.”
00420314 (snow)
“Is that sup-pose to be… me? IS THAT… suppose… to be… MEEE? What’s going on here? Wh-wha–”
“Let me show you your future to explain,” I said back from beyond the 4th wall.
“Yeah okay yeah I guess I see your point I guess I see.” He shook his head. “Jack, eh?”
“Jack,” I said. And then I showed him where I took out (the) yellow.
00420315
“Hucka D., there’s no doubt that this newer and truer Aisle of Palms in the same named town is connected to our Fal Mouth Moon animation. There’s even an equivalent of Steptoe Butte there in the background if we extend our draw distance to 512 and then shorten it back to 128 and take a photo before the landscape shortens again in turn. Mount Chinhae we can call it, after the sim it is situated on the lower end of. Sacred after this I would suppose.
“Fascinating. Keep it up.”
“The bar with the red rooftop to the left, like the dart in the collage is red tipped. Tipping allowed after all in the bar.”
“Tone it down a bit,” Hucka D. requested to this. “Focus on the *obvious*. What are we looking at?”
“Jack’s bar, obviously. (Bull’s) Ear for a target (name), but we had to settle on Bar since we couldn’t get the needed lights in the ‘B’ to stop functioning and turn it into an ‘E’ — shame.”
“We’ll work on it,” said Hucka D.
“So instead the dart turns into a cigarette or cigar which may be the same as a joint. This indicates that Jack is smoking hot. Icily cold later on. After the process is finished. The ear is removed from the side of the mountain revealing Lloyd the bartender for who is really is. The fuse on the bomb is lit. The color inverted VW, yellow at the beginning, speeds on to its destined destination.”
“Boomb! Bullsear!”
“Should be,” agreed Hucka D., already hatching more plans to make it so.
“What did you just call what you did, Dragon? Bulls-*what*?”
00420317 (two straight shooters)
After he improbably made one himself (he didn’t have his glasses on for one thing) he went up to the board to take a closer look at the resulting hole. For brief moment, he went “inside.”
“Ah, I think I see what you mean about the bullsear, Dragon. I think I see what you mean, heh.”
And then…
… Colorado to end, an enlargement from the past. ‘Nother one.
Sunklands 
