00480501
And so I, through Frank Lynn, went back to Jelloab from my home base in Jeolla 2 sims west and took another gander at Tobor, still trodding between sand and sea at this location. Well, not sea like Nawt Vaya sea, an inland body of water. This was an ocean, the great Our Second Lyfe Ocean that surrounds all mainland continents and all islands and archipelagos everywhere in this metaverse, the great unifying element one could call it. Note Jelloab and Jeolla start with the same 5 letters which can spell Jello, as in Jell-O, as in the gelatinous, sugary substance which can be consumed for dessert by us humans, invented in Le Roy, NY by Pearle Bixby Wait in the late 1800s. We should probably earmark a visit to that location via Google Earth or Google Street View soon? Anyway, I think I’ve had enough of the ocean for now. Goodbye beach girl! “What’s your name?” I decide to ask over before vanishing. “Greta,” she said, which I quickly realized was an anagram of Great, continuing that thread. From the ocean, I understood. A spirit, a conduit. “Greta, you say?” “Yes,” she replied. “Native of the area?” But she didn’t answer, just kept staring at the sea ocean in a silent kind of way again. Toward Tobor. I realized my time at this shoreline was truly done.
Snapshot of an inworld map of Jeollab and Jeolla before leaving with my current location marked by a blue person icon and my homebase almost directly to the west marked with a red house icon. You can see the whole Nawt Vaya inland sea next to my home, which, like I said before somewhere, is the largest inland body of water on the Jeogeot continent and the only one I would deem worthy of a sea appellation instead of a pond or lake. My opinion (my mythology).
Let’s keep all this geography stuff in mind as we move forward here. TBC
00480502
“What you looking at now, Dr. Mouse? More Youtube poop?” Frank Lynn was truly curious again. What was his dead roommate up to?
“Not *technically*. It’s a video about Grand Theft Auto, you know, the place where *you’re* from, both you and Philip.”
“*Oh.*” Now Frank was *really* curious. “And, let’s see (he peers closer at the screen), there’s a giant eyeball, I see. And… a star?”
“Rockstar,” Mouse answers. “Like the company that created GTA but also your friend. They connect through the lines.”
“Red, green, blue, yellow, yeah,” Frank Lynn recites. “I remember. His creation is like my creation, me being baker b. the user.” Frank knew he had the power to channel all that. Thus the high castle in the skies, the resonance with Heaven here with a capital H. Little *h*ell is far away now for him. But Philip… different story. “What does it mean?” Frank asks. “The picture here, the Rockstar and the eyeball with the lightning bolts. Jupiter?”
“Could be could be. I have to go to the table now. I have to make notes. Please don’t unfreeze the image on the screen here while I work over there.” He points backwards with his cane from his viewing chair, toward the kitchen we saw him sitting at with Frank and Philip a couple of sections ago. I don’t believe he’s shown up in this here blog and attached photo-novel since. Time to bring him back I guess. Oh wait… what’s happening? He’s now on the floor . He’s shaking… violently! Frank… do something! Move the table and its contents to start! TBC
00480503
I watch over him from the moved table as he continues to shake. I called Lexi and she said it was in all likelihood an epileptic fit caused by all those Youtube poop videos he watches with the flashing lights and all. She just suggested keeping an eye on him until it passes — and DON’T put anything in his mouth, she warns. I couldn’t call Daisy at the Hole in the Wall; didn’t know her number. Must rectify that soon. Anyway, Lexi said she was probably too far away to help, and that the fit should only last a couple of minutes at most. I didn’t know her current location, forgot to ask. So I just waited…
… and waited. I glanced at my watch not on my arm. 3 minutes now. Glance again. 3 1/2. Glance again 3 3/4. At this rate it will never end, Zeno’s Paradox. So I stopped glancing at my watch, started counting Mississippi’s. One Mississippi, two Mississippi. On and on I went. 100 Mississippi, and that added on to the 3 3/4 minutes I had to start this. 200 Mississippi — okay, calling Lexi again. “Help!” I said. “Get here!” But just then he sat up, stopped shaking, seizure ended, as if nothing had happened. But he was different, really different. “Where is Edward with the sign?” he monotoned, and threw away his cane into a corner. “I need to talk to Edward. I need to *see*… Edward.”
So I pulled him out of the back of the fireplace where he lived and then this happened.
There they were, all lined up in a row, all holding something. I didn’t know what to make of it! TBC
00480504 (Old Railroad Grade (C is 4…))
“Caledonia has been mentioned in 48, *cement pond* has been mentioned. That’s 2 in a row. And then Baker obviously, since that’s me: baker b.! And through baker b., both Baker Bloch and Baker Blinker, the original male-female duality of the blog and what everything builds around. And then Maxwell to end — she’s obviously around as well (wife). So that’s 4 in a row again, just like here in your castle, Frank. Whaddaya think, huh? HUH?”
“Get out,” Frank says to this issuance. Philip starts to leave. Frank catches him. “No no, I mean, get out of him, baker b. I want to talk to Philip directly.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Philip” turns around, returns to the couch. Baker exits the body; Frank has learned enough from him. “W-where am I, w-what *happened*?”
“Never mind all that, Philip. You’re back and that’s the most important thing.”
“I *am*?”
“Yeah, it happened again. You got all dizzy and had a lie down, let’s say.”
“I *did*?”
“Yes, you *did*.”
“Huh. I can’t remember.”
“Of course not.”
“I can’t remember *any* of that. Was I high on speed? Was I playing High Speed? And, worst of all, was I playing High Speed while high on speed?”
Frank decided to say, all of the above.
“Golly.”
“Golly Miss Molly, yeah.”
Philip looks up at the video feed, at the map. “W-what’s that? 4?”
“Yeah.” Must still be doing a little channeling, Frank rationalizes this insight. “4 in a string,” he explained, “but I think Caledonia is 4 instead of 1. It’s reversed from what I saw before here. I’M WITH STUPID — that indicates (the holder is) the wife. And (stone holding) hubby baker b. is being pointed to, ha. Veery clever. And cement turns into concrete to seal the deal. Concrete, Washington I’m talking about here, which use to be named Baker. I checked: former towns Cement City and Baker combined to form Concrete back in 1909. So there’s that.”
“But… why am *I* here?”
“I told you. You were playing pinball. In the wrong way. Again.” In truth, *Edward* turned into Philip while Mouse had a bit of a lie down after all the excitement. He was in the spare bedroom that Philip uses occasionally. No room today. Well, there’s never any room in the tiny bedroom adjacent to the stairwell. STOP
GO “What’s this, then. Adjacent?”
“Yes, Philip. The tile before the 1st. Le Roy. Lime, indicating lime Jell-O, a new, 5th flavor added to an original 4 in 1930. We have to go down. Something — is there. TBC
00480505 (Franks combined (666 coverup))
Frank Lynn liked to read while on the toilet and had quite the collection of magazines laying about the castle’s only bathroom. But in putting down a copy of “Xxxmas Belles” picked for the season and taking a look around, he realizes he needs to clean up all this before Daisy comes up for a visit, which he guesses will be real soon. 1st date already done: ice cone parlor in Juho, then hanging down at the beach by the upper end of the Nawt Vaya Sea. Some smooching occurred, to his delight, but not too heavy, since this was a public place and all. And, yes, he found out that she had a black mama. Not a New Ager like his own, into all sorts of aroma therapy and aura cleansing and shite. She wasn’t raised a granola child like him, which he kind of rebelled against when he got into his teens. But still — the same color. And something was going on with her father but she avoided further questions about that after it was vaguely brought up — peculiar. Oh well, hopefully I’ll find out more soon enough, he thinks while pulling out his phone from his lowered pants. Maybe I should give her a call now that I have her number, set up that 2nd date while I’ve worked up the courage. Goodbye Miss Mistletoe 2025, he said in his mind, taking one last gander at the centerfold spread out on his lap with the waiting lips. Hello a different, more real and attainable kind of those. Dialing…. *now*.
00480506
How did they know I was a stranger? he thinks while driving his white El Camino past the sign. Signs actually, counting the town one. Welcome to Sandy Shores! Hope you enjoy your stay. And… get a paint job for your white-mobile, I find myself requesting. Show some color!
3 years and 90 degrees later:
Better! Reentering town in a different, prouder way.
00480507
Taking note of the too-similar design of this Rodentia sign with that in Sandy Shores, GTAV from the post before, we send Philip over to sit beside it, if only in a dream. He could be waiting for Wheeler (and perhaps Newt?) to emerge from the “rat hole” across the small pond in front of him we saw in section 01. Yes, there she is, waving at him from what was formerly the entrance and is now the exit, certainly glad to see daylight again however gloomy it may be. “I made it back, Newt!” she calls over to the shadowy figure whom she mistook for her oft times hubby, last seen sitting in this very chair 5 sections back.
But as Wheeler continues to wave and call, no answer is returned. She squints and notices the different clothes, the different hair, the different *man*, despite the same chair, the same location highlighted in the same photo-novel, #48 in a series. Something has changed with the passage of time in the passageways of the rat hole maze she’s been lost in. Unable-to-respond Philip wakes up, but is still in the chair, watching Wheeler in the pool now with several strange men. He stands.
Quack goes the duck. *Quack* goes the duck. My computer overheats and Philip wakes up properly. TBC
00480508
“And so you see you couldn’t help your father because there’s nothing wrong with me and everything wrong with him. So you were right to run him over in your car while the old fool stood helplessly exposed in the middle of Route 9 over there. Like you hit him with a bullet in the past in, what was it, 1785?”
“More like the late 1800s I think,” said Alice Tart to her mother Wheeler Wilson, finally together for that talk about the recently deceased Mouse. Overdue, as are a lot of things in life. Better attend to the important stuff before death.
“I– met the town leader I think,” she then revealed, “this Rodentia of the continent of Jeogeot of the metaverse of Our Second Lyfe,” she expanded needlessly. Like assigning a particular color to white.
“Oh. The male?”
“Yeah, the embodiment thereof.”
“What was he like?” said the curiously non-surprised Wheeler at this turn. She knew that behind the female there’s always a male, often in the same body whether virtual or real, or figuratively if not literally as was the case here.
“What you would suspect, I suppose. A big rat, but with brown markings on top of the white. Add in a bit of color.”
“Chocolate to vanilla,” said Wheeler, translating hues into flavors. “What did you say to… this rat?”
“I confessed *everything*. He seemed very pleased. I supposed I owed him that, using his town, his *female* half, for a good number of posts already. He kind of trapped me in retrospect, drew me to the assembly hall that was his sanctuary. So I just explained everything.”
“Pleased, you say?” Wheeler takes another puff of her cigarette. She’d already offered one to daughter Alice who refused. I wonder if she– no, can’t be. Can it?
“Yeah, pleased. He’s probably still over there if you want to pay him a visit. Checking… checking… yeah, green dot still there. He’s waiting for us… when the time comes.”
“When the time comes,” echoes Wheeler then inhales more smoke. TBC
00480509 (1/2 and 1/2 (the mother-father figure))
Wait… something *is* being etched in stone. Let’s see…, um…
00480510
Yes, I can do this (!): use the Recorder tool on the Developer Menu to record my avatar’s walking positions through the 7 circuit Temple of TILE labyrinth, also called a classic labyrinth. And today’s chosen avatar Alice Tart here can trace the labyrinth over and over and over using the loop option that comes with the recording. It’s pretty profound. You start with blue around the outer rim, accomplishing a single circle before “descending” into the center till you meet yellow, then walk the yellow segment around to start going back out till it meets red, then walk red till it meets green, but then you don’t return to blue here, no no. Keeping to green, you stop walking outward and once again descend toward the center to meet cobalt, working inward this time to violet, then starting to move outward again through orange, then maroon, then descend again into the very center colored white to end. Here end loops back with beginning, and you walk the line out of the center straight toward the blue rim to start the process over again.
Alice walking from green into cobalt
Recordings cannot be saved so I’ll have to record each session individually. But, like I said, once recorded you can walk endlessly within one login. Impressive! Successful test. 🙂
We can number successive walking steps the following way by color:
blue – 8
yellow – 5
red – 6
green – 7
cobalt – 4
violet – 1
orange – 2
maroon – 3
white – 0
or 8-5-6-7-4-1-2-3-0
This number sequence translated into our 7 circuit or classical labyrinth could look like this:
More on its construction:
https://www.labyrinthos.net/layout.html
00480511
Just as I enter Little China from Kabuki (1), this formerly expressionless kid breaks out into a big smile when I approach him while crossing the street. I can’t recall seeing that happen — at least to that degree — in all my now many months walking around this Night City of Cyberpunk 2077 game fame. About all NPCs there maintain an expressionless look on their face. Seemed to *mean something*.
Then a couple of minutes later in the same walk I pass Happy Juniors. Can’t recall that store before either. Get it? That junior back there unexpectedly turned happy and then this.
And we’ve met the guy posing next to the store before too in that above screen capture. I call him Sunamai T-Shirt Boy or STB for short, featured in no less that 8 posts now from 2 different photo-novels.
I have a suspicion this is connected to the idea of transitions, specifically here, the transition between two sub-districts of an imaginary city. It’s happened before with Kabuki, except here we’re going out instead of coming in.
https://bakerbloch.com/2024/07/10/00430413/
We’ll most likely revisit this whole “happy” subject soon.
(1) Elsewhere in the blog and attached photo-novels I call Little China *Small* China and turn Kabuki into Kabusie. Overarching Night City is also transformed into Nightsity. I have my reasons. 🙂
00480512 (happy (cobalt = Kabusie?))
There’s Wheeler, my better (female) half, carefully walking the 8-5-6-7-4-1-2-3-0/ blue-yellow-red-green-cobalt-violet-orange-marroon-white segments of the ground level labyrinth again.
But there’s not a lot else in this 2 story Temple of TILE mostly under the waters of the Nawt Vaya Sea. No piano like before, no place to sit atall. 39 prims to play around with on the property. I could bring back both the piano and pipe organ with that, ALL KEYBOARDS.
Wheeler stops before crossing from green into cobalt again. “Is this suppose to be *me*?” she calls up. “What kind of girl do you think I am, hubby of mine?”
You know what kind of girl you are, I wanted to say back down. But instead I said: “I’ll remove it asap. It’s certainly in bad taste anyway, considering what happened to Freddy.”
“There.” We wouldn’t see a difference from the above angle but there’s a difference. With the subtraction of 1, Mercury X. Rising stands alone with no 2 to follow.
Now walk, Mercury X. Rising, walk. Live again! Wheeler should have been passing by this transition spot in the labyrinth right about… here.
00480513 (death (and life!) on 2)
He walked and walked, again and again. He also lived and lived again and again. Death is not the end. Death is deathinitely not the end. He pics up the mic. He sings. He’s ready to rock and rule the world once more. In a better, more refined way this time.
He stops at Day and doesn’t proceed into Night. He’ll learn from past mistakes. He becomes fixed in time. And space. And thankfully not a lot remains of Wheeler still as I look over, not enough to tell. Sheer Heart Attack the single merges back into Sheer Heart Attack the album as he belts out the tune.
I am Pansy Mouse the pure white Zero Hero standing in the center of it all who approves this message. Naked as a j-bird, I also can’t help but start dancing…
00480514
He was shouting at me as soon as I went out on the balcony. I was just thinking recently that I rarely see anyone in Nightsity above street level. And then here he was, just standing over there, a sticky outy thumb situation.
“Hey mo- f-cker! Do me a big big favor and bring over my clothes to me! Right over there!” I can make out the distant man pointing somewhere to my right. I pause, wondering if I should even reply to this obviously somewhat insane person across the way. Like I’m going to deliver anything, let’s see, 5 stories up to a strange apartment in a building on one of the most dangerous streets in Kabusie; *knew* I shouldn’t have come here and do some exploring today. But then I spot them hanging off a balcony about 3 stories down on my side of the street, barely visible from around a corner. At least he wasn’t lying about the garments. But, heck, they’re probably not his anyway.
“My clothes my clothes!” he pressed before I could exit the balcony and withdraw back into the depths of my own building. “I *know* you can see them from there — I guess! There’s a shirt, then another shirt and then 2 pairs of pants hanging behind the shirts, and, most important, my *dress* in the middle! My red mo- f-cking dress I *just* bought at the pawn shop… I mean, er, J.C. Ponney’s! That’s what I need to wear *tonight*!”
“I-I can’t help you!” I decided to give him. “Sorry!” I tacked on.
“Aw maan!” I see him flip his arms at me in disgust. “I can’t go back in there, maan!” There was true grief in his voice now; maybe he was even weeping a bit too? “The old lady… she…!” He paused. So I guessed what he was going to say.
“Kicked you out?!” I imagine him slapping her in the face. Or worse.
“No no, maan! You got it all wrong! *All* wrong!” But he still wouldn’t tell me what happened. He started pacing back and forth back and forth on his narrow perch, hands to his face. Yeah, he definitely appeared to be weeping now.
“Alright!” I decided to say for some God awful reason, perhaps coming from the same warped curiosity that brought me to this area in the first place today. “I’ll go down there and knock on the door and see if anyone is home — ask about the clothes!”
“Oh, man! Would you do that for me?! That would be f-cking awesome! Just don’t mention *Terrance*!”
I assumed Terrance was his own name but it turned out to be his son’s. And it wasn’t him that hit her but the opposite way around. We all kind of became friends after that, me and the father and his son from another mother. And he sure did look mighty pretty in that red dress he wore to the mayor’s ball that very night, smiles all around. TBC?
00480515 (red means stop)
The BD was over as Terrance Sr. took off her red dress at 12 and turned back into a man, ball over. I pulled the rig off my head, sat up. STB man, I recognized early on, basically at the start of it all. I must put this down in my blog!
—–
Ahh, *exactly* what I need, thinks Philip in one of his more recent dreams as he spots it coming toward him. He then positions himself directly in front of the approaching red El Camino, freshly entering his hometown of GTAV’s Sandy Shores from the east, daring it to hit him. It screeched to a halt — big mistake, should have just plowed right through the him like a speeding bullet or something.
Philip goes to the door, opens it, drags the passenger out on the road, debates whether to smash his head in but decides not to as he has more important matters to deal with today, takes control of the wheel…
… leaving Albertville M. Spaghettiboro by way of Stockholm and Lima coughing and wheezing in the smoke of his spinning tires and belching exhaust pipe. “Little Hell here we come!” he cries about the destination on the opposite side of the Alamo Sea from Sandy Shores as the landscape wizzes by him — directly across from SS, actually. Some people call it Heaven but Philip knows the truth because you have to raise a Little Hell first, like a child to an adult. All children are spawns of Satan, he knew. Like 7th Devil up in the castle perpetually holding the bowl of patriot soup that stands in for a cement pond. Or something — Frank explained the whole 4 string alignment resulting from Mouse’s diabetic fit the other day to him but his brain didn’t retain all that much. All he thinks of is pleasure, what’s good for *moi*. Which is why he had to, in the end, be killed. By Frank or Mikie, didn’t matter that much. Death to Philip Strevor was all that both could think of. The Id to their Ego and Superego respectively must *go*. TBC
00480516 (continuation/fulfillment (opposite side of the Alamo (the other hand)))
🎵If you want to get to heaven🎵
🎵You got to raise a little hell🎵
00480517 (not yet)
Sunklands 