I love mornings. Mornings is new beginnings and you know those mornings where you wake up real sudden and it’s pitch black and the chilled air doesn’t move and you can just hear the tiniest sound of dripping water?
Well that’s the sound of a downhill cave. And downhill cave dank is its own special sort of clingy nose-wrinkler. And here’s the thing about #MYGCG, I live in an uphill cave. My cave dank ain’t all that. Don’t mean to brag, sorry. :|
My cave came from the Major’s place, Fort Serenity, and I didn’t get one of those fancy caves with steps and waterfalls, but it’s a sweet little cave with a hidden room right out around the front to the right and a bedroom way in the back and two spare rooms built right in! Soon as you come in, spare room, with another right behind it. So clever and cool, Major!
Those spare rooms are handy ‘cause you can get your firewood inside in case of rain, and no downhill dank to wreck the smell of your cook fire. The Landlord is always wandering by moaning about dank smells, he’s always moaning ‘bout something, like it’s his friggin’ hobby or something.
Probably he’s more upset about my Personal Facility, Flushless the OffSim Outbuilding. I don’t know what happens to the stuff when I get all Personal in there, but the Landlord was passing by moaning about all sorts of crap building up in his Lost & Found and I had a hard time, a real hard time, not looking over my shoulder at Flushless. Some sorta flawedable deniability, I think.
One time I had this Magic Tutor over to help me to figurin' on the how's to turn gold into pencil graphite, it’s my raisin, y’know. She says, “Let’s sit down and look through the ideas in this book.”
“Sure!” says I and I suggest a place, great view, no dank.
“Are you suggesting we sit in that outbuilding?” She queried intently.
“Umm, no. I was planning to stand out here like a gentleman should. I have some good sittin’ logs by the fire if you prefer. Freebies from that GCG Freebie place. You can take a copy.”
“Do you have anything inside? It does look like heavy rain.” She asked pretty nice considering what was happening to her hair in the wind off them interstitial oceans and the spray.
“I don’t think you want to sit on those logs, kinda short, tend to roll off the pile if you aren’t real careful.” I offered, gentleman-like. A gentleman can’t offer a strange lady a sit on his bed, it’s like a rule, s’all I had indoors, stacked logs and a bed.
Turns out her magic is Decorating, a power thing that uses up spare space, and then you have a pile of stuff you don’t need filling up the indoor wood storage that you do need. But, gentlemanly-like I went along with the Miss-Doesn’t-Enjoy-Sitting (bit of harrumphing at this point) -In-The-Steady-Rain to Mystery Creations.
Got me a bench and set it inside. The uphill cave does get some pretty good views. I can see the twixt-sim-interstitial ocean at sunset. Nice. (I can see it all day just that sunsets are romantic and the squirrels go to bed so’s I can sit onna bench there too and hear the wave-sound rock.) And a bit north of that I can see the Haunted Swamp and hear the sound of animals sorting out the top of the food list, most nights, all night long.
Benches all over outside too, I got the anodized wood and metal one with the e-coat, squirrel-proof coating. Cool.
One day the Landlord was wandering around moaning about the rent and he gave me a bear rug with Real Teeth he found at Bad Katz, prolly wandering around there too moaning ‘bout the prices.
So in #MYGCG my cave is uphill, uptown-like, low-dank: sweet! :)
See yer around,
Everybody needs a purpose, called Raisins of Etre. Prolly a French thing, they always say things, sounds real nice and smooth, but it makes no sense, like they're speaking another language. Yet I got a Raisin, and that’s the important thing.
See, you dodge about the Opensim or the Closedsim and there’s all these males what stand around and look intimidatingish, like bulky muscles and extra jewelry, frequently coupled with a suspiciously large bulge-setting in the pants, if I’m not being too subtle. Someone got a little crazy with a cheap and easy slider and shoved it way past 50 into the Quite-A-Sense-of-Humor zone. A lot of them are tougher-looking-bald too; I sez get yourself the right dog groomer and stop being so cheap. The good ones have the nice smelling anti-flea soap too, groomers that is.
The thing of it is, these uber-bulgy males are bound to get all dick-whammy when things go wrong. And things go wrong. So huffing around and uttering threats and CAP-TYPING hollow ultimatums is gonna get you one them peerrhic victory things - you get to be the big cheese in the burnt lands. ‘Grats big guy.
So we need education for everyone to avoid bulgy peeric outcomes and because education is the big equalizer and part of education is retention and so writing stuff down really helps me remember the good bits and so: Pencils. Pencils work in outer-space and underwater and we need to equalize our children wherever they are. My GCG has a lot of whatevers. It’s so cool. So that’s my Raisin. Equalizing children by usin’ pencil-based remembering.
Here’s how I roll, I’m pretty sure pencils don’t grow on trees, and though I’m working on that, I think first I gotta make more lead to let the pencils do the writing the good bits down. Alchemy is the slickest way to make lead, ‘cause gold and lead are pretty darn close, move a few electrons around and a bit of coughing in the thick smoke and WHAM! gold turned into lead. I have lots of gold hidden in a sub-cave over behind my livin’ cave. I know what yer thinkin', TWO CAVES?? But it's not all glamour.
My landlord happened by to collect the rent and was moaning about the smoke staining up his nice sim and stuff, he’s always moaning about something, “your forest is dead”, t’other “renters have voted you off the island”, “what’s that smell?” And he mentioned that pencils don’t use lead, lead is too hard, wrecks-the-paper-hard, so they use graphite, but call ‘em lead pencils anyway ‘cause they ain’t geeks. Well, rats! (And I got 'em.)
So, I’m working on that. Turning gold into graphite is more than just electron wrangling. The flash fires, the baby explosions, and that sound like tearing open the fabric of space time - seems a bit much for zero results. I need to add magic. So I joined up with Madame Burrury’s Finest School For Wizzards and Magikal Creatures School of Magik. Already started and have my first certificate, although MBFSFWAMCSOM insists it's a form telling me to stop invoking demons sort of thing. I say I have a piece of paper what says I can do magic.
And that how My GCG deals with things, it makes options available to make it right: gold into graphite. Now I’m a sub-neo-beginner peri-magician. :)
Equalizing and empowering all children by letting them write stuff down in space. Lofty, sure, and if’n it was easy everyone would be doing it. Raisins ain’t easy. But I'm thinkin' they're important and stuff. And in #MyGCG everything except second dates is possible.
That’s it fer now, Trey.
by Trey Magnifique
I was plannin’ a swank dinner for a group of friends, y’know, with a sit-down table and plates and everything. See, I had a first date. I met a nice person over to the dance place and one of us had too much moonshine and asked her out and she and her friends talked about it and played paper, rock, scissors and she shouted “CRAP!” and then said “Yes” to me. And now I already know she enjoys the rock, paper, scissors game. :) Cool.
So’s I was speakin’ to the Landlord there, ‘cause I wanted to use the empty Fairy Tale place and he sez “No.” So I asked about the ‘nother spot... “No!” before I can finish even. So’s I decided to have dinner over to my place, but outside the cave, ‘cause of the dank, smelly bits, which is the whole cave ‘cept for the sunny bit by the door. But that’s where that furry person curls up so that wouldn’t go over well neither, I’m guessing.
And here’s the problem,see? Mud. Lots of it kind of running around, ‘cause the landlord, that Reyn fella, doesn’t seem to know much ‘bout that irrigation thing, or maybe reverse irrigation in this case. Yeah, like drainingation. So half the time the place is a bit muddy; I secretly call it names like BullRoar Acres, but mostly BullCrap Park. I guess my “couth sliders” are low in the settings or somethin’.
And the mud is totally tidal or some such. It gets flowing and the mountains pinch it into this channel thing and next thing y’know it’s Holy Fundy Batman, neck deep sort of thing ‘cause the mud is in a pinchy, sustained wave that bounces off the ‘nother mountain and ricochettings right back at you: Splorsh!
So’s I hire a person, Kacey, to help out ‘cause she says she knows plate settings or somethin’ and I invite the Cap’n and Ginny, and I ask Madame BurBurry if she’s free and she says my project is overdue and do I ever want to graduate and I don’t want that talk at my swank dinner, so I ask Madrid J. if she wants to join us ‘cause she’s quiet, and nervous though. And of course my date, Xero Gods, she’s totally “whatever” which is so much better than “really?”
So’s I check the mud levels and the tidal clocks and figure I better add a dining berm in front of the waterfalls, and if it gets bad we can wash off in the waterfalls and clean up them rental dishes, same time. Cool. I think we do a pretty good job, considering the ruins are already half covered in mud but there’s heavy rains scheduled in the north mountains so the mud should be thinner by evening, easy wading.
I see Ginny is already drinking from the bottle. Cap’n is disgruntled, but he’s always disgruntled. “Prawns are totally buggered!” he growls. “Left ‘em in the back seat of the van and now totally shite!”
Seems everything else is pretty good, got plates and Kacey has orbdures or somethin’ smells pretty decent anyway. I seem to have dropped my mud-squeegee. Hey! Is that a prawn?
So dinner’s not so bad ‘cept for the no prawns thing but Kacey whipped up some pretty good meat dish and some bean thing and then a couple of fruit pies and we laughed that we could make all the mud pies we want. Well, I laughed. The Cap’s said, “Smells like a snail’s arse here.” Ginny took a pull from the bottle. Xero wrinkled her nose; she’ so cute when she’s angry. Madrid just stared straight ahead, I guess she’s back in the meditation thing.
So’s I asked Kacey to hand out some of those sweet liquor drinks what people hand out after a swank meal. Looked like we were going to pull the whole thing together and that’s when the richetting mud tsunami glorped over the foothills protecting the waterfall cove and kind of took away the fun edge that had been growing, what with all them sweet liquor drinks.
Ginny switched to a straw and the Cap’n was mighty stoic, least that’s how he called it, “mighty GD stoic”. Xero cried for a few minutes and Madrid blinked and I held a fancy, shiny tea pot up and she fogged it so’s it was all okay. And I guess that’s the thing. In My GCG all’s well that ends well, and mud dries up, and when that last dollop falls out of your pants it’s like it never happened.
So’s the Cap’n gently laid Ginny in the back of their van and scooched off. Xero teleported Madrid home and told me to wait for her call. I washed up some stuff in the ‘falls while Kacey knocked prawns out of the decorative bushes, all’s well. Good times in #MyGCG. :)
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