00500501
“Holland?? Old timey windmill — you see?”
“I see.” Holland?? I also ask myself from my more objective observing point. How could this be?? We were expecting a more realistic northern California given the Kane mythology.
We start wandering around together in this tree dotted plateau area, my eyes one with his. The psychic synchronization seemed to be working. Then…
—–
“Okay I think I’m getting the hang of this place. I’ll just gather up the clock on the picnic blanket here, giving me one of my three needed items to complete the, um, game.”
“What picnic blanket?” I asked.
“There. Right in front of me — us. Held down by 4 rocks. With a clock in its center — wait, make that a stopwatch I believe. Look down in the center of your row containing the items. That’s one of the ones we need.”
“I checked the symbols at the bottom of the screen. “Looks more like a sundial,” I opined.
“No, pretty sure it’s a stopwatch.”
“Or maybe a compass.”
“Stopwatch.”
“Compass.”
“*Stopwatch*. Pretty sure.”
“*Compass*. Quite sure.”
“Okay, let’s just move on from that — agree to disagree… for now. Sooo, what about the rocks? And the tree? Let’s check everything else before we start panicking about all this.”
“Okay, the rocks are there, the tree is there, behind the rocks…”
“Yeah? Good, okay. But no blanket still?”
“No blanket.”
“Shoot. I was hoping it would have rezzed in while we were talking. Let’s see, er, maybe try refreshing your screen?”
I didn’t know how to do this and told him so.
“Well, why don’t we just wait here. Give it a minute. Beautiful day after all. Would you like me to pour you some wine? How about a sandwich?”
“Ha ha. Very funny, Daniel.”
—–
As they gabbed away, it dawned on observing Newt/Baker like a new morning. He was in a different Day! They’d have to start over, from scratch as it were.
00500502 (grown and no going back)
“You did *what* to your hair?”
“I dyed it. Black. Like the witches do.”
“Witches? Doo?”
“Yeah. Like, you know, Hazel, ha ha.”
“*Never* joke about that name, Shelley,” I reprimanded. First communicating with the wrong Day earlier in the day, then this. Day 02 I suppose.
“Oh, Father. You’re so… *backwaters*.”
“Backwaters?” I questioned again.
“Yeah, you know. In the sticks. Backwaters. It’s what all the hip kids are saying about old people stuff like that. Kind of a continuation of backwards — more your style of word.”
“And I suppose this has something to do with that New Island you’ve been hanging around lately. With, who is it, Eddy?”
“Edward.” My Eddy, she thinks, her old boyfriend and new husband in one.
—–
We need to go back to the top of Mt. Sandraman next, she pondered later about her boyfriend/husband after the phone call with her father ended with tense, terse goodbyes. Maybe have a picnic up there and take in the view and see where we are in our relationship… to the island. The villa we had our eye on is still unavailable to our disappointment. Many things are gone from the island we knew, she laments. But one object has remained stable down through the years now. The *exit* from Pipewold at 242 121 MacMorris. Just like Opp went through many years ago, entering as a boy but coming out a full blown man. And then what Mabel rediscovered when she visited the island later. It’s just like with the Indians. A proposed 2fer1 (241) by the damnable invading white people for land division. Wouldn’t work then and won’t work now. The entrance is gone and that’s how you get in. You can’t go in through the out door. One way.
00500503 (cold in there)
The dandelion indicated we were in the right place this time. Day 03.
Print of the famous “American Gothic” painting by Grant Wood inside the mysterious, buried structure that somehow still provides a walkable, perhaps livable space within…
… altered a bit from another angle to show a more hidden truth. Just like with the Indians, women often find themselves in the middle which unfortunately is in the way. Might have to get rid of them too in the end.
—–
“Stand back, Opine… Opp, or whatever. You’re just a boy. I’ll go in instead. It’s safer for me.”
And so Karl Johnson or Johnston or whatever enters New Island’s infamous Pipewold realm. From the future. TBC
00500504 (as a man, as a woman)
“There! That’s what was on the map above where I went. Boos! Not booze as in alcohol. Something different. A creature!”
“This exact creature,” I tried to clarify. “White not black.”
“White not black,” he said. “Open mouth. Ready to attack, it seemed. Or swallow.” And swallow it did, he realized.
“How did it start?” I asked perfunctorily, as I had to. Still reading the script, you see. In the past.
“With the body. I found myself… climbing up a body. Skin to begin. Then more as I continued, inevitably ending up… at the end. Metal; a pipe, a long dark pipe about yea high to me in my state at the time.” He was raising his hand above his head as far as he could.
“Iowa?” I jested.
“Pipewold!” he said, staring at me, as if I wasn’t taking him seriously enough. I thought of Newt/Baker here. This is something (nonsensical) that Newt/Baker would say to ease the tension, add in a bit of levity. I was becoming him, I realized. Losing the body myself. This was my exploration as well as Karl’s. I had to find a new one. Or else… back to the Concrete indicated grave I came from.
“The pipe, the entrance, represents the end of the seen and the beginning of the unseen,” I continued philosophically. “Neptune,” I put it in a word. “Neptune is in there. Beyond the Mars where you began and then Uranus where you entered. Did you find Neptune beyond the Mars, Karl? Did you?”
He wasn’t sure (!).
Later on — in the present I suppose — I found out that, yes indeed, he went back to Iowa once more. Through the back door as it were, Alpha switching places with Omega. White to Black again. Amazing synchronicity!
00500505 (accidental exposure)
—–
At 39:00 she begins to enter the thickest of the green grass, and I specify green here because any color of grass could come up in Starfield on any given planet, any given biome. Here: Schrodinger VIIIa, the only moon our ever walking Gemilly Niceniece substitutes for an actual planet in her perpetual 7+ hour journey across seven Earth-like spheres.
Thus the ringed giant in the skies, the thing (sphere) being orbited. We’ve been here before. Except emphasizing red in the captured screenshot below from photo-novel 49, a savannah biome as opposed to the mountain biome pictured above. See what I mean?
Back to the present one, Gemilly soon stops at the presence of two green stones atop a big gray rock and knows a choice must be made.
At 44:00, precisely before a fade to black and standing in the same position, she gazes up at the rings again. I’m starting to think this has all been timed out. I believe she’s thinking of death. TBC?
00500506 (out of gas, out of air)
He was scaling the bridge of the nose, this intrepid space explorer hero called Leptune whose suit contains all the colors of a freshly plucked ear of corn and then some. I finally feel confident in saying that he’ll achieve the top, win the crown. We know who’s inside of it all.
And suddenly, as I was revising that last paragraph a number of times: done! All we have to do now is wait for the ending credits.
But first… take that!
And that!
Aaannnnnd THAT!
“I hope that’s opened your eyes to what’s actually going on here,” I can hear him say from my safer perspective after the beat down was over. “Up to you now, (*pant*) *parasites* of Earth. My job is (*pant pant pant*) done.”
Roll ’em!
00500507 (trying again (The Martian))
“Dangit! A gallery this time??”
Second Lyfe terrain over there in the corner, he spotted. Second Lyfe terrain highlighted in the picture above it, he also noticed (“12 Pound Mouse Mound”). He was quick like that. Terrain attracts terrain? he thought crazily. But turns out he wasn’t that far off. TBC
00500508
A new gallery has been opened up in my Nawt Vaya Free State along the shores of the same named inland body of water: Boos, essentially a duplicate of what once existed in Collagesity. The precise location is behind Cement Village with its own gallery of Concrete containing the entire Bogota series of collages (2016-2026), just like the Boos gallery contains the whole of the Boos series coming immediately before it (2015).
Understanding that the entrance to both galleries is in the same spot, I decided to combine the two into one for advertising purposes and call it Boos-gota, a portmanteau (like lukfast). Below, Karl turns around in this spot to look up at the signs of each.
To make room for the Boos gallery, I had to delete Starbuccaneers formerly in this location. Oh well, hadn’t used it for much at all anyhoot.
And Philip and Nada’s small house behind it now has its nice view down to the Nawt Vaya Sea blocked to their consternation. To add salt to the wound, Newt/Baker decided to also delete their nice bed to save more prims/li for skybox experiments due to Boos increased use of those in comparison with the deleted coffee shop.
“F-ing gallery,” spews Philip, thinking more of the view.
“Amen to that,” reiterates Nada, thinking more of the bed.
00500509 (… from Mars)
—–
“Well… there they are. Martian boos in equal parts black and white, amassing above poor little Tungaske from the east, buildings seemingly numbered for conquest purposes. City limits threatened to become cemetery limits; no one left to live here.
“Only the west can save them, switching dawn to dusk. Bigfoot.”
And so it went down in the small Canadian hamlet. Artists, thank gods for artists.
00500510 (Pansy update)
Another Bigfoot spotted in not the US but Canada now, on Saskatchewan Avenue in Tugaske in Saskatchewan. Saskatchewatch, then! (Sasquatch + Saskatchewan) Or, better, Saskwatch, thinking of the abbreviation of the province’s name. I’ll recheck this area more later…
But first: the same town pictured in Boos again, as in gallery, as in Nawt Vaya Free State bordering the Nawt Vaya Sea in the western part of the Jeogeot continent of Our Second Lyfe. 3rd floor. Attempted vandalism of the art within, just like at the gallery formerly known as Concrete down by the sea in Cement Village. I suppose Boos is a part of Cement Village too since the front door opens in that direction (I’ll work on it). Is this the same vandal dressed in a hazmat suit now like he’s preparing for a journey inside the vast bounds of a Back Rooms situation? And what of the anime looking girl beside him. Accomplice? Turns out she’s merely working through him, as in a prop. Controller, then. That way the blame can theoretically be taken off her if needed. She’s only walking up to the vandal, wondering what he’s doing. Is this the artist of the work himself, here to make some late game changes or spiff ups? That kind of defense.
“Uh oh, keystone cops coming, Mortimer. We better switch over to our act. A-HEM. I SAID. What are you doing to this piece of ART here? Are you the ARTIST?”
00500511 (through the trees)
“Sorry I’m late.”
Just in the nick of time.
“You don’t know it (*grunt*), but I’m helping you, artist of mine, from the Great Beyond (*grunt grunt grunt*). Hang in there (PANT PANT) Old Wheeler!”
00500512 (The Sage Page)
“So there I am again. You can tell me by my bent up nature, just like an Ozian Wheeler traveling around on all 4s, and also bent to the rule of the Witch Mombi and perhaps the Nome King through her. Old Wheeler,” she summarized about the figure in the center of the collage before us, called “Crash on Mars.” Not because it depicts something crashing into Mars but because of another figure to the left of “Old Wheeler” called Crash who holds in his hand a giant fishing rod from our perspective, horses let out of a barn I suppose. She first brings him up in the next paragraph.
“(the 19th Century U.S. religious figure) David Brainard is seated in the foreground,” she continues, “who seems to be the same as (brainy) David Bowie, the Spaceman, the Man who lived on Mars. The Starman, as in Dark. Black. Look at the top. At the end of Crash’s fishing rod which passes through (the word) RUST.”
I saw the black star at the top of the work where Wheeler (*New* Wheeler) indicated, fronted by a blue-green hummingbird. I ask about it next, prefacing this by saying that it seems to me it should be a fish here instead. “What gives?” I end my query.
“Let’s turn to the next Bogota collage,” she replies and starts walking to our left, pulling up in front of it. I go stand beside her, basically shoulder to shoulder again so we can keep trying to see as one.
“More Life on Mars,” she says. “Remember when I told you to bring me Book 03 from the town library and place it on my table? Well there it is. It’s a summary of all knowledge, all books.” The collage changes.
“And there is the second part of the animation which is actually the first, showing my point. Lisa the Vegetarian is the Tungaske artist who absorbs it all — inputs it; eats it — and then provides an output for us to peruse and perhaps dig into deeper if we wish. Beyond surface reading, you see. Surface of Mars. Crash again in back, facing toward you this time — sans rod, I’ll add, with no horses around this go around. As if waiting for you to act. Can you act? How deep can you go? TBC
00500513 (Topper)
Before hopping into the shower, Shelley/Wheeler decides to assume that pose again she saw Bigfoot take in Concrete WA and stare at the results in the mirror before her. *Am* I Bigfoot? she couldn’t help think with her library eyes in place, no need for aiding glasses any more, a block to deeper knowledge. All Knowledge. Especially given that she could animated herself this way in the first place. Library… might as well call it “built in”. Thanks to a witch. TBC
00500514
“Let’s go back in time, to Bogota 01 before the Bogota 02 and 03 we’ve been talking about. To examine… time travel. The vandal again, perhaps the same one we encounter in a hazmat suit later on in Boos… appears to be spray painting a red lighting bolt atop David Bowie’s dead skull, right?
“Well, maybe the red bolt was already there, maybe the vandal is merely indicating this with his pointing. More pointing. The Point of It All (again)?”
“Are you talking to me, ma’am?” Inspector Petty says, appearing through the wall of his small agency in the heart of NVFS’s Cement Village. No Chef attached to his title any longer, so he’s unable to prepare food for himself. “Buy me some lunch and I’ll tell you about it.” Turns out he had all the story and then some. You feed him and then he can feed you. Information. Deeep stuff. TBC
00500515 (lightning bolt)
“After delivering part 50 of 50 of the spaceship to him, he gave me this. Space Docker he called it. From the *future*. And then his last words to me were, ‘See you on the other side, brother.’
“Other side of *what*? I wondered as I watched Omega round the corner and seemingly disappear forever from my life.
“Then Lester brought up finding the other side — to Earth.”
“Earth?”
“Earth,” he said again. “He said, what was it, the technology allowed copying but only so far. For one thing, there were no people, just animals. Philip had crashed his plane and died. Yet he lived on.” Frank looked at me steady. I knew this was something extremely important to him because he usually avoids direct eye contact. He was trying to drill the truth into me. Or maybe discover it *through* me.
Drilling. Have to think about that one.
00500516
He stood before the passageway again, knowing a decision had to be made. As before, they had extra arms, as in fire. Faux bug exterminators Jason and Walter were awaiting orders. In or out in or out? Didn’t matter to them; all this was beyond their meager, silly brains, Lester thought. They couldn’t tell the fool’s gold, the physical stuff, from the real gold — this opening inside the Sphere he’s managed to finally crash beside. As bad as Philip with his 60th of 60 in the 6th or 90th of 90 in the 9th. Last in class whatever. 6 is just as bad as 9, merely a flip or reverse of the same. Then it hit Lester. The same, the *same*. The future and past are one! He didn’t have to make a decision. He could merely stand in place and let the so-called Hand of God do it for him. He opened himself up… to the Universe.
“Holland??”
Sunklands 