Monthly Archives: March 2012

Dear Sir or Madam,
I regret to inform you that the Nethernet, as I have discovered yesterday, is no more.
Jenny, a former Seer
Sad Seer

Now that the portal to the Nethernet is broken, I shall take up mantle as the Seer of Lore. The following is a recount of my experiences in the world of Internet Below.
In the beginning there was only Internet Above. By the genius of madmen birthed the fledgeling Internet Below. In those days, it was called PMOG.

Shoppe Keeper
PMOG was a quaint little place, with shoppes for daily needs. At the time, I was a tourist aboard the Wired Express. I relished the familiarity and the foreignness of the sites. Everything appeared exactly the same as Internet Above, except a few crates on the side, gifts left by mysterious Benefactors.
Crates and DP
While my tour was short-lived, PMOG left a warm impression and booked itself as a future resort destination.


Internet Below grew into a mechanical marvel. My next trip there landed me in a world deemed the Nethernet. Rife with citizens busting too and fro, the Nethernet was a festive place.
However, there were hotly contested views on what the Nethernet should be. Factions of Order and Chaos arose. Everyone duked it out. Casualties were too many to be enumerated in the Daily Post.
Daily Post
It was a very lively world. So, I applied for citizenship.
I began as a shoat. Everyone began as shoats. I ran around in my top hat, learning of all the factions.
I had acquainted myself with the delicious taste of explosions. It was a taste not to be denied.
In my early days, I toyed with grenades and mines. Any unsuspecting traveler would’ve been greeted with a rude awakening. I was quick and ruthless, and probably the target of a few Bedouins or Vigilantes.
St. Nick
As time progressed, I found my true calling as a Seer. I navigated the wild and wonderful world of Internet Above and left portals to Internet Below.
I lived in a world between worlds.
Leaving Portals
My Seer-nature eventually led me to other corners of Internet Above.
I had left a small comic as a gift to Internet Below, to be continued upon my next return.

Alas, Internet Below is gone.
I call upon ye Stewards of Stories.
Fill the compendium with your tales, so that the Nethernet may live once more!

*Edit: Holy smokes I just discovered an article by the Nethernet’s creator. {Link}


This following is Rated M: for graphic portrayal of eating a gummy animal.
Not for faint of heart or the diabetic.
One large gummy bear was harmed in the making of this.

I love candy, especially fruit-flavored ones.
So when a Vat19 5lb Gummy Bear was gifted to me, I was both overjoyed and perplexed.
Nom Nom

It was the size of a newborn child!
I didn’t know how to begin.

Yesterday, I brought in reinforcements.
With our forks and knives, we unboxed the monstrosity and dug in.

It tasted of a wonderful sour apple flavor and felt a little more gummy than its lilliputian counterparts.
It was surprisingly delicious.
green apple

However, all was not well.
Hours into the endeavor, the bear was still mostly intact.
It even developed a self-healing property!
We had decapitated the bear early on, but the head fused back onto the body!

Day two was no better. We left it in the fridge overnight and it developed armored exterior!
We brought in heavy artillery: extra knives, forkes, and mouths.

It was a grueling two days and finally, the head was consumed.
However, the body still remained.
I’ve eaten all the gummy I can eat for a while…
too full

Day three does not look pretty.

We’re definitely experiencing some schizophrenic weather here.
Last weekend was super gorgeous, with blooming trees and song birds frolicking.
Last night was so cold that I woke up shivering.
With the oscillating temperature comes my dilemma of to carry or not to carry a bag.
I only need three items on me: phone, wallet, keys. Anything else is deadweight.
Phone 'n Stuff
In the winter, the pockets of my purple coat serve as my bags of holding.
However, under warmer weather, I need to supplement.
Why don’t they make girl pants with bigger pockets?!
My trusty messenger of four years, a demure Fossil canvas, was found today with a gaping hole.
Cause of demise? Old age.
RIP dear friend.
RIP Fossil
It’s bag hunting time.
time to hunt
Some bags fluff their color and shape.
 Others bare their metal tooth and chains.
However, I’ll be on the prowl for the elusive wonder.
I’ll rummage through bins, peer over shelves, stalk online as well as off.
It’ll lead me to mysterious corner boutiques and deep into the internet jungles.
The hunt could last for months and months.
 Eventually, in a moment of weakness, I’ll resort to black magic and revive my messenger. 
Zombified and gruesome, it will moan a constant reminder that its time had already past.
I’ll get desperate, and do anything to rid myself the dangling rags.
I’ll binge, preying on bag within sight of my cross-hairs. The casualties will be many.
The future does not look pretty.
Or maybe my elusive wonder will come to me.
Coach Leah Opt Art Small Shoulder Bag

Last night I dreamt I went to McKittrick again…
…except in my snazzy new dress!
I’d wanted to make a 1940s dress ever since my first Sleep No More escapade.
The vicarious excitement from my friend’s recent trip set the motors of my tiny sewing machine in motion.
With permission to incorporate the McKittrick pineapples, I designed and printed my very first fabric through Spoonflower.

Spoonflower Fabric

I present to you: Miss Caroline.

Miss Caronline with Mask
It features a bold print, sweetheart neckline, and long sweeping skirt; a refined version of my Dandyweeds Dress

Miss Caroline
Caroline Dress
I’ll be donning this for my second visit to the McKittrick in May.
I’m looking forward to all the things I apparently missed.
I really want a 1-on-1 experience but those seem wretchedly rare.
Either way, I’ll be bloody bold and resolute.
Mad Dash
Maybe I will pay fortune a visit.
I hear she has favorites.

*Edit: Apparently they aren’t pineapples, according to scortchedthesnake, they’re thistle, whoops ^^;

*Edit again: Fabric now available on Spoonflower, with approval {Link}

I discovered the music of the conjoined twin sisters Evelyn Evelyn last Friday, while napping in a car ride home. Their tragic stories jostled my wavering consciousness.
Eva Lyn
I became super fascinated with them.

“EVELYN and EVELYN NEVILLE are dicephalus conjoined twins, sharing between them three legs, two arms, three lungs, two hearts, and a single liver.  Born on September 11, 1985 on a small farm on the Kansas-Colorado border, the Evelyns have lived in Georgia, Manitoba and South Dakota, and have traveled the greater part of North America performing with “Dillard & Fullerton’s Illusive Traveling Show”.  They are fluent in chicken and their favorite colors are purple and yellow.” ~  Amanda Palmer, one of their producers

Their song Evelyn Evelyn deeply resonated with me.

I’d been thinking about where am I in life.
My internal dialog speaks the sisters’ words.


I have what my friends call “agrarian fantasies”.
I daydream about what’s it like to live in the good olde days, out by some country side.
Country Girl
I’d be pickling beautiful jars of vegetables, in a cozy farm house.
In the summer, I’d lay in the field of wild grass, surrounded by fireflies.
I love these romantic reveries.
<img class="alignnone" title="fireflies <3" src="; alt="fireflies
I also have not-so-agregrian fantasies, such as becoming a subway musician.
Something about strumming some beautiful chord in a noisy city station appeals to me.
Subway cars’ll unload busy crowds rushing towards to their lives.
Somewhere, an ear’ll pick up the sweet sound of music and pause for an ever-so slight second.
At that moment, a secret gift has been exchanged.

To revel in my fantasy, I’m picking up guitar!
I’m in no way musically gifted.
As long as I keep a good attitude about it, I’ll be playing in subway stations in no time.
See you at the next stop!
Subway musician

In other news, my big Sleep No More project is coming alone nicely. Supplies are on their way!
project preview

*Edit: here’s the finished project

I can’t contain my excitement.
I thought I’d post about my Sleep No More experience later, but I had too much fun reminiscing.
My memory is not keen on the sequences or details of events. I will just portray the ecstasy.


When I arrived at the McKittrick Hotel, I was completely out of breath.
out of breath
My geographically-challenged self had ran many blocks desperately searching for the entrance. I was super late.
Much to my dismay a huge line had formed.
line D:

In my hour of wait, I conversed with a lovely lady.
line partner

She couldn’t believe I rode the bus from Boston just to see this show. I couldn’t believe she could parse my ecstatic speech. I was hyper.

I noticed Hitchhock graffitis along the exterior wall. I thought they were charming coincidences, instead of deliberate details. A plate near the front door warmed my heart. It referenced Manderly, a storied mansion from one of my favorite books: Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier.

Finally inside, a well-dressed gentleman greeted me.
“Is this your first time staying with us at the McKittrick Hotel?”
With a nodd, I was handed my room key and a mask.
key and mask
The 13 of spades, how lucky!

Donning my mask, I ventured into a dark, weaving corridor. I was apprehensive.

Slowly, the corridor metamorphosed into a gorgeous 1940s lounge, with ladies in dazing dresses and a wonderful small band.

A courteous gentleman escorted me to the elevator, to enter the rest of the hotel.

A lovely lady in red announced the rules of the McKittrick Hotel. No talking, no electronics, and no removal of the mask.
greeting lady
With a loud THUD startlingly the silent audience, the elevator door opened, revealing an operator.

“Fortune favors the bold.”

The elevator stopped ascending, and people hustled out. Suddenly, the operator stopped a man, and closed the elevator doors. We were once again being transported.
elevator buttons

When we finally emerged, a ballet was unravelling before me. A gentleman and a pregnant lady danced among the bookcases. I was enthralled. When the dance concluded, I dashed to the other rooms.
dance on the bookshelves

I was short on time. My bus back to Boston left at 10pm, which left only an hour for exploration. I climbed to the top floor. There I ran through the hospital, peeking under the covers of every bed I found. My glimpse of the operation chair triggered images in of mad patients under the hand of maniacal doctors.
operation chair

I descended.

I found myself in a dark graveyard. The night howled and smoke loomed over the tombstones. I was alone. Slowly and timidly, I followed a small footpath.
A statue of a cloaked woman stood in the center, extending her hand. After starring at her for many minutes, I mustered up the courage to touch her. “Fortune favors the bold,” I muttered to myself.
touch me

The end of the graveyard gave way to large room with glass-paned walls. Encircled by a large crowd, a lady slowly danced around the room, spellbinding their gaze.
Lady Macbeth
I noticed a bathtub on a dais pooled with rust colored water.

I proceeded out of the room and into the staircase.

I dashed to a floor with shoppes paving the walls. I watched as three masked guests pillaged the candy store. One of the guests kindly handed me a sweet from a jar before running to his own adventure.

I peered into another shop and saw a lady and a man quarreling. Papers were flung everywhere.
The lady shoved past all the guests and ran away into the streets. The man was left standing alone.

I found myself in a speakeasy bar.

A few guests watched the bartender intently. One was seated at the bar. Beside him was a water-filled glass. I desperately wanted the bartender to offer me a drink, but alas, he only shuffled a deck of cards.
bartender, drink please

I skittered onto a floor that situated me back at the McKittrick Hotel. Luggages dangled from a corner room. A dinning hall and a plush lounge warmly invited explorers. I glanced at the menu on well-set tables. Everything looked delicious.

A lady in dark dress came by the kitchen area of the dinning room and prepared a drink. The pregnant lady came by shortly after. She spread jam over a piece of toast, before requesting the drink. This began a spectacular danced spectacular dance on top of the tables.
dancing on tables
They waltzed into the lounge with another man. They conversed through motions, depicting the the pregnant lady’s addiction to this drink. Before I finally snuck elsewhere, I nibbled on the toast. It was dry.

I found a forest, much a like the graveyard. There was a giant wolf staking among the trees.
I treaded quickly, until I found a hut with light. It was small, and locked. I pressed eye to the crack and made out a few photos and a small bed. I wished I could have stepped in.

I met up with the lady in black once again. I followed her to a shrine where a dead man laid on the altar. She danced on the the dead man, and he came alive! They exited the shrine together.
dead dance

I happened onto my most intense scene of the night. Jollily turning a corner on a the hotel floor, I stumbled upon another gentleman and the pregnant lady dancing. He was a different person from the bookcase dancer. Something was dark about the dance. It became a struggle for the woman to get away. Just when she has freed herself, the man lifted her and slammed her repeatedly into the wall! BAM BAM BAM
She feel back with blood allover.

The gentleman dazedly jotted to a dark ballroom and glanced at a single beam of light. From the murder moments before to the haunting look of the gentleman, I was stunned.

My night ended when all the major characters gathered around a banquet table. The slow motion of the characters and the dazzling lights made the view unforgettable. I watched as a giant crowd gathered on the floor. It was magical.

I was very sad that I only spent an hour enjoying this marvelous performance. Compared to my friend’s experience, mine was extremely tame. I didn’t have any one-on-one interactions with the characters, nor did I see the witch’s rave. I’ve decided to attend for a second time. Hopefully I’ll catch the much coveted scenes.

As for my Sleep No More projects, they have trumped everything else. I’ll bring updates as soon as my plans finalize.