00420501 (Southern art gallery)
He was here to confiscate the so-called offensive painting and that alone, this Arthur *Kill*, disguised in another role. Even took the same first name this time. “Art like this shouldn’t happen in St. Dennis,” the wife of a prominent town businessman said to the gallery owner on opening night. He countered that it was tasteful nudity, no naughty bits shown at all, “unlike, say, that one over there,” he said, pointing to another painting visible in the next room. “A bare bum! That doesn’t offend you but this does?”
“This one was done with more in mind. Chains!”
The gallery owner, raised in the North where his mama still lived (Illinois I believe), ruminated: I thought you Southerners *liked* chains and slavery. Maybe because the model isn’t *black*. But of course he kept all this to himself.
And so Arthur the policeman, gifted Shakespearean actor beneath the blue garb, was sent in by the powers that be to make a statement. Thing is, he helped seed the controversy in the first place, part of his overall plan.
“Oh Libra Neptune,” he quietly lamented from his position in front of the work while staring at it, contemplating the circumstances surrounding its composition. “I thought I paid you enough never to come back here.”
He also wondered if her unpictured cheeks had turned red again.
00420502
I wanted to take a look upstairs to see if there was anywhere I could hide the painting on the premises. Too risky to just walk out the front door with it… yet.
Unfortunately the two rooms there turned out to be phantom, although I was able to glitch myself in. Nice view down into the gallery through the invisible ceiling. Handy to know for perhaps later operations in this same area. More exhibits to come, more Libra to show off. I knew it was on the way.
I ended up stashing it in a conveniently placed hatch inside the building’s dome. No one will come up here.
The goods are safe for now. Better get back to Dutch to report what happened. Will he be pleased? angry? Hard to tell these days.
00420503
He enjoyed his time in Aisle of Palms rehearsing with his new band but it was always good to get back home. Back to his private, two palm beach beneath the house with its lounging boat and tent, back to his cats, big and small.
Plus the fact that all that talk about St. Dennis was kind of freaking him out. He *knew* where that was, he insisted to Baker Bloch and Wheeler Wilson, discussing the different angles of the subject at the new bar — Bull’s Bar I think they settled on for a name. Yes… and still guarded day and night by Grant Price and his security crew as hired by Bull himself, also known as Dragon. Bull Dragon sometimes, combining the two names. And sometimes even Ball Dragon or Dragon Ball, although he really doesn’t like the Ball version; best not to call him that, actually, because of his violent streak and all. Some say he comes from fabled Violence District itself; killed not one but a number of people there; kicked one to death in the middle of an alleyway, the legend goes. Anyway, being an omniscient type author to this blog and attached photo-novel, I also know that’s true, and that’s how Grant Price met him because he frequented the place too. Gray Man he was often called because of his suit and fedora style hat of that color. We’ve covered the subject in the last section. Back to St. Dennis and Okama Majo’s different take on the topic. We’ll pick up discussion at Bull’s Bar two days prior. I’ll try to keep up better, ha.
He sat in the middle between the two as they chatted. They clearly wanted him to hear to further the narrative.
“*Anyway*,” continued Wheeler Wilson-as-Martha Lamb, “rumor has it that Atlantis High Priestess, this so-called Libra Neptune from the golf course back in novel 41, rediscovered the underbelly of St. Dennis, reverted back to her old, whoring ways. This is all in the movie too.”
“Red Dead Redemption,” Baker said back.
“02, like I said.”
“Okay. How does this… just go ahead. I’m sure it will clarify itself if we talk long enough.”
(to be continued)
some things were hard to understand (Violence District)
00420505 (The defeat of Gray Man?)
00420506
The attic space of Newt’s 4 story Big Victorian Townhouse has been turned into an LSD Dream Emulator mini-museum, namely for objects and spaces found in the central building of the game called Bright Moon Cottage, pictured on Newt’s computer here also located in the attic. Newt noticed the structural similarities between the 2 virtual buildings shortly after first learning of LSD through Youtube algorithmically generated video suggestions about 3 weeks ago now.
Here we peer down through the invisible ceiling of the place, much like Arthur did earlier at the St. Dennis gallery from his phantom room above. Let’s take a look at the individual rooms while Newt finishes his dinner. Gotta eat sometime in Our Second Lyfe!
In the immediate area of dining Newt are, left to right, a bookcase similar to that found on the 3rd floor of Bright Moon Cottage, a futon with sleeping figure inside, and then the most detailed topographic map of The Natural World Newt could find, the largest location of LSD Dream Emulator and one acting as a connector between all other major locations, 5 in number. These include the Bright Moon Cottage itself, situated on an “island” in the center of the map, the game’s ground zero of sorts as individual dreams of its 365 day dream cycle most commonly start here.
And then just around the corner we have a Television, Teddy Bear, and a Pterodactyl figurine on a fireplace.
Next room down the hall of the attic comes Giant Head and Book.
And then in the final room we have Dying Woman with Giant Astronaut looming over her. The layout of the objects in Newt’s townhouse is not exactly the same as found in Bright Moon Cottage, as I’ve smushed the several floors there together to condense. However, I feel the, er, space vibes are similar.
Now I just gotta go to the marketplace and find some bird cages to finish.
—–
There I suppose. Let’s call it a night.
00420507
He was on the first floor of his Victorian house now working with the heavy duty computers when she passed by outside. He instantly recognized her from Cass City. Marsha “Pink” Krakow. But which role is she assuming under that overarching persona today? Secretary Berta Brainard? Or pawnbroker Pinkie Brainerd? Neither as it turned out — she had another one to go along with the new location. This is the way she bypassed her paralysis demonstrated in the middle of novel 41 and also a bit with the car wreck in the current novel. Like a female before her named Ball, she desired now to become a top notch comic. She’d warmed up in St. Dennis on the Red Dead planet with a smash act which she headed… without a head. Now it was time to up the ante here in Aisle of Palms. She knew psychedelic artist figure Okama Majo would be looking on.
She backed up and took the right turn to Bull’s Bar. Security agent Grant Price let her pass without inspection since he recognized her from the posters.
Inside a crowd had already gathered. She sat down unobserved at the bar and ordered a stiff one. She was kind of irritated that the animations in the stool didn’t allow her to properly close the front of her dress but she found one that somewhat retained decency. Only the bartender could see her anyway and since he was only a head, well, probably not too interested in her body.
She turned.
00420508
Damn. Wrong turn again! she thought. *There’s* Newt’s Victorian townhouse. Just gotta find the in-between path now to the bar, pheh.
Newt watched her once more from his downstairs computer desk, even though he was on the wrong side of the house this time. The *right* side of the wall, though. Outside.
The Natural World.
This was big, he knew. Very big.
actual museum this time
I wondered why these two little figures of the same person were running around a Kangerootown table under the watchful eyes of two looming rabbit creatures.
Then when I found two normal sized figures of the same in a nearby fort, my interest was really piqued. The name of the object was Magnum, created by Magnum Yoshikawa, obviously a self image of sorts.
His profile picks quickly led me to this shop in Kowloon’s Gate City, one of the most notable locations in all of Our Second Lyfe. Places like this are a big reason I keep hanging around the game. 🙂
His created museum there was *big*. Then around the corner…
Ah hahaha. Mr. Price! Well, the same Real Life guy who *plays* my Grant Price who is actually called Freddy Price. You remember, the guy who guards Bull’s Bar and is now the same or has incorporated the figure of Gray Man from the LSD Dream Emulator game. I’d be insulted if you forgot *that*.
This find certainly acts as inspiration. I must locate this “Greg” avatar if possible and purchase!
Reference video here, perhaps the best one about Second Life® ever made and certainly the funniest I would imagine. And the best video by the prolific auteur Mr. Moon period as far as I’ve been able to check, the Freddy Price ones included (although they’re very very funny in stretches too).
More on this soon (!).
00420510
When we first see Jim Randolph the Bastard Pirate in a fox’s body in St. Dennis, he’s waiting for his Our Second Lyfe friends to arrive in a streetcar from Valentine to the north. He thinks this is the streetcar but he’s wrong. Thing is, in this position his new body — head specifically — is juxtaposed directly in front of a taxidermist shop that the streetcar in the back is currently passing…
… whose display window prominently features a stuffed fox. Seems to be some kind of foreshadowing but of his own death I’m still not sure about.
00420511
So Newt/Baker Bloch started looking around the various shops spread across the twisty-turny alleyways of Kowloon’s Gate city in search of the “Greg” avatar Mr. Moon used as the star of his fabled “Ticket to Hell” movie about the pitfalls of Our Second Lyfe. He purchased a cheap Mr. Moon t-shirt found on the marketplace to, in his mind, help bring him luck, and sweet talked Wheeler into buying a women’s version of the same. Below we see her joining in the search; she had some almost freebie female avatars she wanted to purchase here anyway, as observed by Newt and, above him, by me the user of all. Then a 3rd version of “me” entered from the rear.
“Looking for, ahem, *me*?” They turned.
“Greg!” both yelled at once. Turns out he was one of our default library avatars, hidden there all along. Good ol’ library.
“Are those… Mr. Moon t-shirts?” he observed. “I’m *flattered*.” He was already in character, awaiting another plot in another movie. Or at least a blog.
(to be continued)
00420512
Pitch Darkly and especially (of course!) born fisherperson Mary Ball Darkly were so successful on their extended angling vacation that they had to rent a truck to bring the caught loot back home to Aisle of Palms. “Hope you brought your appetite back with you too,” issues Mary while staring at the smelly crates piled 3 high in its bed, knowing they had limited space in the manor’s freezers.
Now to get down to serious issues once more: the Ball situation. They were four weeks late getting back as it was. Too much fun! Couldn’t let it end despite the potential cost. It’s all virtual reality anyway, said Pitch to Mary after their huge haul at Fox Island (alternately Squirrel Island) in Endlessly Antipodal. So it was on to the Amazon Basin and piranhas/electric eels after that to finally get the cold of Walsh County ND out of their bones and blood, and then All Orange to finish up, a virtual fisherperson’s paradise as indicated by Mary’s knowledgeable friend Sandy Beech way way back in the days. Just got around to getting there. Sandy’s never wrong about these things, she knew. Best fry cook in the whole of Great Belt where he comes from, she’s heard from not one but several sources.
“Are you sure this is right, Mary? Fish in a *volcano*?”
“Emm, maybe I got the wrong color in that name. All Green?” she tested, burning through yet another line. “Brown?”
“Let’s go, Mary. Well have to rent a truck to get back our vast haul as is. We have enough.”
“Alright.”
“Plus the Ball situation; Baker wanted us back there a month ago.”
“I know I know.” Mary starts packing up the tackle…
… just in the nick of time as it turns out. *Great balls of fire* that was close to where they were standing! And more on the way. Get off that erupting mountain quick guys!
But, as we know, they got home okay, phew. Mary wasted no time in placing a call to so-called expert Sandy Beech.
“All *Blue*,” he erupted back when hearing the color she chose to remember in their by now long ago conversation about the place. “There’s no fish in a volcano!”
But, savant that she is, Mary still caught a couple.
00420513
She didn’t understand. These kind of jokes killed it in good ol’ St. Dennis. The beheading was a shocker and a stunner there but here, just groans of, what was it, disgust? Even, what-*ever*? So when the main act started warming up on the stage to her right everyone who was anyone flocked over there, leaving her with, who was it? The ogling Thompson Twins? Obviously here for more than comedy or an attempt at such.
“Stand back, she’s mine.”
“Oh no you don’t,” said the brother, trying to regain the advantage.
Then when lead singer Shelley hit the stage and started dancing and singing to Linen to appease the band’s God, things changed once more. She became who she really was back on the Red Dead planet. Atlantis High Priestess aka Libra Neptune, inextricably linked with the other 2 girls in a symbiotic triangle.
How to get out of this?
00420514 (Asylum?)
She sat at the bar nursing a tall cool glass of lemonade while waiting. Risky to come back here of course, but she had to take the chance. Potential information about her brother! After all these years.
Bartender Ricki Bendicky didn’t seem to recognize her — good. 052 class mechanoids like her sometimes have leaky memories, drippy recollections. Like a faucet they could even run dry if left on too long. And that’s what Mabel was hoping. For a reboot here on the red planet… *not* dead but alive with fauna and flora unique to the universe.
“Slow night tonight, it seems,” she tested. No immediate answer; does the mechanoid even recognize where she worked? Mabel pondered. Is she just programmed to served drinks in this out-of-the-way establishment and that’s that? No RAM for barroom banter, as they call it, no ability to even direct customers to the bathroom? She’s heard of such stripped down types.
But then: “I expected someone older.” Dang, Mabel thought. Spotted!
00420515 (centerpoint)
“Honey, get out of the shot. I’m trying to take a picture of that ghost over there!”
—–
“So this is where we’re going,” Mabel said to Teebestia, who had removed her mask since the facade was dropped, like water off a duck’s back.
“We *all* do,” the mechanoid rattled. “Eventually.”
“Riight.” Mabel was pondering how to get out of this. Really hard (!). “What happens when I wake up? I mean, when I get to the other side.”
“You’ll see your brother,” Teebeestia spoke plainly. “Reunited at last.”
I must be dreaming, thought Mabel. She goes to the edge, stares down into the hole, sees light at the bottom, way way down. She’ll be killed, yes. But the light will take her, swallow her. (Almost) all water removed. Just like a mechanoid. There will be little remorse for a life lived fully, quietly, in contemplation on the world at large. *Worlds*.
“Soo… this is how you got to be who you are.”
“Yes,” Teebeestia clipped rapidly. Death was good for her. She had a diseased heart, a diseased mind. The hole was a way out.
Mabel looked around the landscape for perhaps the last time. So much had changed about the Dawg Pound since their childhood, growing up with Winnfield — happy happy days. But the Cleveland Rocks up there remain. Perhaps, at least in part, as a memorial for Little himself, she imagined, the last place she saw him before he was taken. By the Universe. The mechanoids at least do that for him while shifting around everything else. She can’t really blame them, though. Climate change, she knew. “Oh, Little,” she lamented. “What have your Green-Gray Wars done?”
She shifts her attention back to the hole. Taking a deep breath… she jumps.
The bones rattle on.
00420516
“Yes can I help you?” she vocalized, not turning toward the visitor, not bringing any energy into her words.
“Wendy??”
Sunklands 