Not Busy Enough

i went looking for the Second Style inworld offices the other day. i found HeatherDawn Cowan's space over on the mainland Green SIM from Search. i'd been there before, sometime in March.

it's not changed essentially since then. what new elements i did see were some dead chickens (revivable!) lying on their side out on the front grass textured prim she used for a yard. there was an old SS vendor turned towards the wall, just as it was on my last visit. not sure it'd feed you the current issue, seems issue #13 was what was in it from the cover shot on the main face. the current issue is like #26. they publish every month. that's a year and a month this office space has not been looked at. aside from the backwards vendor (i never did see if it worked) the office was empty. not even a chair. nice prefab structure though. top moldings, siding, floors and ceiling all worked well and were pleasing on the eye. still! coulda had some furniture.

the traffic numbers were pretty dismal. more than mine, sure, but you woulda thought someone would have popped in by mistake. like anyone looking "to pick up the current and past issues for free" as the Land Properties search showed. the only space seeming to be usable was HeatherDawn's clothing line which were hung forlornly on the dark interior of the adjoining room. i think she called it "Sad Memories" or something.

i resisted the urge to kick the dead and/or dying chickens when going next door. seems my old friend Doofus Mayo helped Sian Birke set up a jewelry shop here. it was tucked right up against HeatherDawn's structure. the walkway left a bit to be desired if they were going for an integrated "I care for my customer's virtual immersion" type shopping experience. seems the walkway's impossible to traverse from one store to the other. good try nonetheless. ow.

seems ms Birke is retailing the splendourific Aminom Martin's sculptie jewels in some settings she's made. being a student and graduate of EmCee Widget's Master Jeweler course i could see her using Aminom's work. i first set my eyes on Aminom's work when i was bugging EmCee about doing a review for him.

Sian must be collaborating with Aminom on some work, unless she bought his full permission textured sculpties wholesale. his jewels are pretty gorgeous accomplishments. just a bit dear to the pocket book. Aminom's a writer for the Alphaville Herald too. least he's in their group, haven't seen any of his writing actually. not that i'd expect too much. he approached me to do an interview/article/hit piece on me just after Old Tehshit brought my name up in "her" SCuD rag. had i known he could do such stunning work i might have deferred my "you are a shithead" treatment of him. still, who the hell isn't a shithead that works for the Herald? i'm sure i knew who's side of the story he would serve.

after about 10 minutes wandering Sian's boutique Bess Belgar popped in just outside the property lines of Doofus's. i thought it might be the Brigitte Belgar who has a byline on what remains of the SS publishing empire (well, the blog and mag anyway). can't say i've looked at the mag since Celebrity tanked it and allegedly gave it up to HeatherDawn back in February of this year. check the accompanying chart for my Predictable Outcome data i got from ISSUU's site where the mags are listed and archived under Celebrity's account.

the rationale for its burn out and five month death, as much as i can determine from deep study of the public material and readership statistics is that Iris Ophelia wasn't getting enough whipping, lovin', Lindens, or rest. you have to remember the key to world domination, and an attribute of the worst tyrants of SL like Celebrity and Bianca, is they have ignorant idjits do their real work for them. at little or NO pay!

at the end of December08, with a last ditch effort of bringing in some much needed "talent" (James Schwarz), it sunk off the charts. James Schwarz is supposed to be tehshit V's real life hubby's name. whoever he is in sl is anyone's guess. i'm absolutely certain Charron Marseille would know more than i. just so you know, the time of Mz Celebrity's magazine demise coincided with the start of the witch hunt foisted upon the populace by our ugly to the soul hitman TV. go figure. i'm sure there are other magazine publishers out there she could go after...oh yeah, she has! each and every one of them.

after about ten minutes waiting for Bess Belgar to pipe up she just poofed without saying a word. i'm thinking it was a non-confrontational type alt. i respected her fear and continued to mull about clicking and inspecting things all the while she was just on the opposite side of the wall. i have no idea what type of infectious devices she tried to pwn me with.

then i remembered that Celebrity (the alleged former owner/operator over all the assets of the Second Style network) had rolled out her HQ on the island SIM LeZoo a while back. she had an installation there complete with runway and OnRez vendors for her inworld mags. when i popped over a HeatherDawn build occupied the space of SS's earlier copper glass build. there was a vendor that had the most current edition along with a few older issues haphazardly slapped onto the wall. why she hung her photo shop in the sky kinda knocked the build's immersion simulation down a few notches. everything's been untouched since Mar09.

as par normal, i usually look at the SIM's access/ban lists. i'm sure seeing all of Tricky Boucher's banlist and interviewing them all was motivation enough to drag my name through the SCuD heap. mustn't miss an opportunity to crush anyone who doesn't sing your arias. in the case of the LeZoo SIM, why Tenshi Vielle was on the access list puzzled me. she doesn't have a shop there. none of her gang seems to haunt the place. unless the current owner has a personal relationship with her. oh, wait, it's not Haver Cole's space anymore. who is SecondStyle Pointe? an alt for your main HQ space? isn't that Celebrity having fun with us.

Open Letter to Tenshi Vielle

i was wrong about Tenshi Vielle. i had thought she was 12 (in her mind). now i know that's wrong and i'm so sorry. she's 9.

wrap your head around that concept. i know it's not hard for any of us to imagine ourselves back when we were that old. Victoria was a special child though. she never grew out of it. she's still stuck there in her mind even now. to ridicule her and make fun of her with this tender mental condition is just wrong. no one should poke her any more. the hurting has to stop.

of course, it never will. she is permanently fixed in that motionless pit of pain constantly trying to be that beautiful and transformative butterfly she saw in the people all around her. she's tried everything in her young life. she's tried to sew. she's tried to dance. she's tried to cook. singing, acting, writing. all failures. and she tried so hard to fit in with our vision of feminine pride. everything she's ever done ended in fitful rages. driving her fists into someone else's face is where we had to stop her. and then she began to focus on self abuse.

it's her nose. she's hated her nose from the moment she first saw it staring back at her in the mirror. there was absolutely nothing we could do to relieve her revulsion (and our own, were truth be told). to tell her it was beautiful was just wrong. elevating her to ever imagine she could be just like the other kids, talented, refined, and beautiful was all we could do. we didn't want her to know what everyone talked about behind her back. all around her, such wholesome and creatively endowed young women shaping their lives to fulfill their artistic destiny snickered and whispered in hushed tones. it was driving her crazy. we eventually had to have her hospitalized. the rage against herself, the burning, the scarification, the piercings; all disproportionate and wholly vile.

we shouldn't have filled her head with notions that she too could rise above the rest. she was destined to pulling the arms and legs off her barbies, tearing her clothes into sackcloth, smashing her things to smithereens. we hated the birthdays and celebrations where we had to watch another hateful episode of her self loathing. we had to do something! for our own sanity. we had to give her anything she wanted. ANYTHING. just no more tempestuous tantrums.

our little bobo tired of all her useless attempts at social interactions. she knew she was the Devil's spawn. we prayed and prayed for her to find someone or something to calm her frenetic and violent outrages. our only hope was plastic surgery. if we didn't we were sure she'd cut that bulging betty off herself. we only wanted to live without the fear, without the need to lock her out of our lives, our homes, our closets.

we did find that one certain doctor who knew nothing of her mental condition. not a hint of the raging monster beneath the surface was revealed to him. the operation was to remove and transplant that horrible cartilaginous proboscis with something, anything human. the life of the child was at stake.

well, you know the result. i won't go into the terrifying description of how the doctor etched just neath the surface of her flesh with deft expertise. tracing his razor scalpel from the top to the bottom of her bulbous protrusion. and then up again to between her brows where the depth of the skin allowed the knife to scrape against her bony structure. the delicate structures of her breathing aparatus were spared. her husband alone would have to endure the loud and incessant snoring now. his world of suffering had just begun.

prying the vestiges of the knobbed eyesore away from her puffy cheeks with the doctor's chromium instruments went well. it plopped into the stainless steel vessel with a dull thud. its gelatinous consistency sprung it from side to side to finally and gently rest. its offensive visage wholly separated from our baby's smooth oval face. somehow, it seemed peaceful in that tray. i resisted an urge to dab up the blood trickling from its nostrils. a ritual i had grown used to throughout all of little Tenshi's life.

why the transplant was rejected is known only to the highest medical minds of our time. essentially, without the pussy and putrid facts remaining so far away in the dark reaches of my mind, suffice it to say nothing worked. she's had to live with the horrible and disfiguring scars from that moment on. how she discovered the internet, where no one knows your physical afflictions, we don't know. but it was her saviour. and ours. it was the best gift anyone could have given her. and we thank Urizenus to this day.

destructive and murderous rages in the real world were a thing of the past. now she could meet her friends online and they would "harmlessly" act out all their hate and pent up frustrations in a virtual world of first person shooters and MMORPGs. pointless and meaningless, but safer for the rest of us. and in that, i know i was wrong. i should have been stronger for her. you have to forgive me.

of course, when everyone else would be able to disconnect their online persona from their real life personalities, Tenshi wouldn't or couldn't let go of the inner hate. still, nothing she did in real life amounted to anything but embarrassing social ineptitude. she turned to the internet more and more until she was hardly with us at all. and, i'm so shameful to say, it was such a treat.

we never supervised her online sessions. we didn't have any idea of the dark and dank corridors of hate filled angst that she meandered. had i known there were more of her kind transfixed by the constant degradation i might have been able to do something. i'm not sure. maybe she would have come back to reality. maybe it's better she didn't. i'm not sure. she's theirs now. God forgive us all.

so you've seen the "woman" Tenshi's grown to be. not many of you knew the tortured little monster the Devil gave to us that dark day she came into the world. and i'm sorry. i'm so so sorry. believe me. if only i could have known. if only Jesus would have let me. if only. if....

~your Mother

oh, btw, if Dancien Graves and Gidge Uriza would like to be made aware of any new posts here (instead of the daily stalking [5 times a day!]) you can give me your email addies and i'll have blogger send you out a notice. kiss kiss.

Internet Bullying

Harass
v. tr., -rassed, -rass·ing, -rass·es.
To irritate or torment persistently.
To wear out; exhaust.
To impede and exhaust (an enemy) by repeated attacks or raids.

i will be pursuing legal action against the people who conspired to steal my name on Plurk. the game's over kiddies. life sucks, then you die.

i'm sorry, i can't fight them all by myself. i don't know any other way to do it. i know the community's ready, especially since the worst of us are rewarded for their bad behaviour. Gidge Uriza, Iris Seale, Dancien Graves, et al. seems that Celebrity is far sicker than i could have imagined. wonder what she wants? no worries, it should be fun telling the legal eagles what she's done to me. they need a good laugh. i'll keep you informed as to their progress.

please, go about your normal business. i intend to do the same. just because all my inheritance will go to defending my self won't mean i'm changing anything. world domination's a given. :)

maybe some good will come back to the community i so love. i should tell you all about the outfit i put together but i'm still not confident anyone outside of the Lab actually makes anything, but that's another story. wish me luck. pip pip, cheery oh.