A Net Full of Eels

Posted on July 7, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

Slippery eels sliding through the net holes

A Net Full of Eels 

Slippery eels sliding
through the net holes
the mesh,
somewhat large,
it can’t contain them all.
Suspended,
how they eye the water world
of survival far below.
With all their strength and agility,
they wriggle out of certain death,
in their quest to live,
they choose the desperate fall.

Many upon many cascade
in painful belly flops.
They beat the water
with their blackened forms.
Some gracefully,
like rigid,
high-dive athletes,
push through head first,
puncture the ocean surface clean
breaking every written
record, barrier – norm.

It is so painful
to watch their struggle end.
I root for all of them
to make it through.
But, some have succumbed
to being out too long.
The sun is hot,
the distant drop
into their element, the water,
if not done
just exactly right,
would likely
kill them too.

I am more amazed
than repulsed
by what I see,
for their slithering,
brings out
primal anxiety,
and makes me shake.
Still, a small compassion
rooted deep inside of me,
stirs, as on the docks
they start to fade and bake.

“Oh Allah bless the fortunates
who never knew the net.”
“Bless those, who grew in strength,
and made it safely home.”
“Bless the ones caught up,
who never could escape “

Karima Hoisan
© 2007
*please see my comment below

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The Color Of A Soul

Posted on July 6, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

The color of a soul, is it like a rainbow?

 I invite you to listen to my mp3 recording of this poem to the music of Amr Diab.
Just click here to play it: “The Color Of A Soul.mp3”

The color of a soul, is it like a rainbow?
Does it change with seasons, decades and living life?
Or is it one constant hue that perhaps mirrors,
all those subtle flecks of hope and dreams, and strife?

I saw yours, I saw it when you thought I wasn’t looking
The color that jumped out at me and cried,
“I am alive and living inside an oh so tiring time
Understand this is my true shade deep inside.”

When you marched over mountains, your color warmed you
Laying in your bed it made you sleepless on haunted full moon nights
It brought you brilliance and impatience, and a solitary path
Like hot embers it glowed inside you, and lit your inner light.

I saw yours, I saw it when you thought I wasn’t looking
The color that jumped out at me and cried
“I am alive and living inside such an exciting time
Understand this is my true shade deep inside.”

I think we have a color that carries through the seasons
It could be heady white or dreamy whimsey shades of blue
but some souls, glow in quarries of a deep creative passion
inflamed in orange-splashed red, and one I see that has this kind is you.

Karima Hoisan
July 6, 2011
Heresy of The Intimate Kitely
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Heresy Of The Intimate

Posted on June 29, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

Heresy Of The Intimate Kitely-Virtual Worlds On Demand

If you are following my Colored Dream Series, you will know that in Part Two we meet a sphere with a very strong essence called The Intimate. From a parallel world he comes, and our Karima of the story falls madly in love with him. Part dark… part light, he is an enigma and a paradox and he has finally found a place to rest after being ejected from his own world for loving one he should not. This story is about to come to an end, and perhaps I am prolonging that eventuality, by finding myself in another virtual world (a heresy in its own right I might have said a week ago) creating my imagination’s virtual abode of the Intimate. How did this happen?

Locus in the new Red Period

Locus is now moving into the new Red Period or as I have said to the creator DB Bailey, it has the Bailey Touch, everything and anything he touches lately on his sim has turned to red. Locus, through all of its changes has been where I shoot my photos for the Colored Dreams, a continual inspiration, and I would say a sort of mystical leader that moves the story in other directions  than I am even planning, just because the sim is always in a state of flux..morphing from one beautiful stage to another, sometimes more subtle and sometimes like now, earthquakingly  powerful with shifting appearances and mood. While this Red Period was being developed in SL, DB got involved in a new virtual world just starting to rise out of the virtual waters called “Kitely – Virtual Worlds on Demand” He invited me to see his build there and of course how could I refuse? There is a small hitch that in order to visit someone’s world or acquire your own you need to be a Facebook user (and I am so not into that but…) but I already had an account and it is the policy at the moment. So, I befriended DB (David Denton) in Facebook, and went to see what he was up to in Kitely.

The pastel dreams on Kitely are alive and growing

The pastel dreams on Kitely are alive and growing, and I found myself in the dubious pleasure of being a noob again with bad skin, no AO and well, all the rest, but it was great pleasure to see the new build coming to life and to have my eyes opened up to the possibility of inhabiting more than one world, something I have been doing in the “Colored Dreams” for the past few months. I have been sort of a rabid supporter of Second Life, even with all its faults, it is not easily beaten. I have never been interested in the many alternative worlds that have been springing up right and left, but I see in this one, Kitely, where basically you pay for the time you spend there, and you pay quite economically, the possibility of maintaining an island as almost your own art installation. Here you can work, build and create and then invite your friends to see it, and make another. This is what I would love to do,  even though I know almost nothing about building (and it shows) I do know how to let my subconscious pour itself out on a sim, and I feel this system makes that very possible. I won’t go into a sales pitch for this new world, just say I am enjoying it very much on many levels and that I had a chance to have a small email chat with the CEO and Co-founder Ilan Tochner and I really liked what he said, and I quote him,
“I’m very happy to see Kitely used for art, one of our goals was to enable people to easily express themselves and share it with others.”
Since there is nothing for sale, and I don’t know anything about importing more than script codes and textures, this will be a challenge, but a creatively addictive one I already see. I wrote a post a few weeks back saying “We are what we watch” well now I am beginning to see, ” We are what we write” as I slowly open up the possibilities of a parallel universe in the virtual sense. I am writing my last chapters of the “Colored Dreams”, sipping coffee in my tent overlooking a hostile landscape with dabs of colorful beauty. I have even had a few visitors, and two after being there, created their own worlds. I see this as not a replacement for Second Life but a great compliment to it.

A dear friend and I in my tent on the hill

They are offering a trial period now, as it is just beginning and is in beta, to create your own world and they will give you the credits to be able to see if you enjoy it, before you have to pay, a good marketing idea, as it is very, in a nice creative way, addictive. As I said before I am not promoting this world for any other reason than I just feel very excited about it, and am so glad DB Bailey dragged me there kicking and screaming my mantra “I don’t want to go to any other virtual worlds”

meditating on the rocks with a visitor

I leave you with this last image of a rotating light sculpture I have created using mostly tricks and mirrors and shabby building technique, but as DB mentioned when he came to visit, lots of drama. I have maybe 3/4 of a sim left to do and about 96,000 prims to spare. Just that fact alone makes my heart sing out like an operatic soprano.

Dreaming the dream out-loud on Kitely

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Too Far For Me

Posted on June 25, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

I am going to share my first machinima made in Second Life, with all the apologies beforehand, as it is far from perfect, yet I do think it worth sharing. I committed many novice mistakes in filming it, equivalent to putting my fingers over the lens on a still camera in some takes, but I decided to share it anyway, as most of you who read my blog, are also my friends..and the rest I hope you will be, so I am going to take a chance and post a YouTube of it. The song I picked for the video is a Hank William’s classic.
It is also in honor of my new little shack on the tracks given to me by a good fellow train enthusiast and buddy I met riding the rails when I was writing the Train Saga poems and posting them here on my blog. It is situated diagonal, across the tracks, straight up a hill, from the very green train station of Epirrhoe, on the Mainland, and amounts to having one of my dreams in SL come true; that of having a small shack by the railroad tracks, the other, which I am still waiting for, is to wake up in my RL bed some morning and have the exact same proportions, look and skin of my avatar..still working on that wish. The poem was written a while back before I was even train riding, but it seemed to go well with what I finally could film(the back of me in most cases *smiles) We have close to 80 Sims of RR tracks and free trains are to be had. It is an amazing side of our SL many of us (myself included before) have totally overlooked. So… I present to you now Too Far For Me and I will post the poem below the video. Enjoy!

*a footnote my YouTube was banned in Germany I guess because I used a Hank Williams’s song but odd it was Germany and not say Alabama…funny

Too Far For Me
for umahamd
~^~
There is a distance
that can’t be breached,
not with any effort
not by any cost.
We are all little mirrors
of the first Big Bang,
in the flux of Life and Love
some things left behind
get lost.

There is a distance
that can’t be reached,
not with nostalgia
nor by traveling miles.
We are constantly expanding,
saying hello
and contracting
while waving goodbye
to the scenery
in motion
of our history’s past
judgments and trials.

There is a distance
that can’t be beseeched,
stopped in the dust
of our lover’s new track,
we sit confused and weep.
Where all words fail us
in our pain,
where we fall for a minute
from the earthly plain
in one sudden derailment
from the moving train,
that just left the station
without us.

Karima Hoisan
2007 Jordan
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Part Two~The Colored Dreams~Ismara Re-Opens The Diary

Posted on June 22, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

The face spoke to me in the voice of my sister

The Face spoke to me in the voice of my sister. It was Karima’s cadence, and tone.
“Find my diary and finish reading it. Do it” It was so clearly stated and so commanding, as if an order were being handed down from this giant ruler hovering in front of me, and I was the chosen one to do her bidding. Even though this was a dream, I felt the urgency in her voice, and I knew that I would comply as was demanded of me. The sheer size of the one who captured my attention was enough to make me reverently bend down in humble acceptance of my own small size and lack of power, but the voice was my sisters’, there was no doubt in my mind. It didn’t beg or suggest, it said ,”Do it.” in that bossy way Karima could talk to me when she was really serious about convincing me to do something for her. I answered her back,
“Ok. I will.” and then after getting over the shock of hearing her voice so clearly in my ears, I said more tenderly,”I will do this for you as you request.”
Then I woke up.

I laid there for a long time trying to remember…

 I laid there for a long time trying to remember more parts of the dream. Oddly enough, this strange cathedral or whatever it was felt familiar. The face, although sort of hazy also seemed like someone or something I knew, or had seen before, perhaps a statue, a movie star from the past, not sure what, but the message it brought to me was more like a vision than a dream. I have had visions before, I told Karima about a few, and one I never told her, but I wish I had now, as it was a car accident, so real I woke up in a sweat. I had this maybe only a few weeks before her own accident, that put her in an irreversible coma and carried her away from all of us forever. My heart was pounding like when I would awake from a nightmare, but this felt more like a scare, the kind of feeling I get sometimes when I am drifting off to sleep and I think I am falling and I  jerk and gasp catching myself, the adrenaline pumping freely. Where does a message like this come from? Is it really from Karima? Can I trust it is not just a part of me giving me some very bad advice, advice that goes against what I had already decided, which was to never pick up her diary again?

Before this night, several times and at strange hours

 Before this night, several times and at strange hours, wide awake, I would get the urgent sense to go into the closest and finish reading my sister’s last words. I know if I talked about this with my friends, for instance, all of them would tell me I was crazy to have put it away as I did. I had even asked myself many times, if Karima would have reacted as I did, taking her personal dream-life so personally, and I had answered myself, no, she wouldn’t have done that. I guess I have always taken things more to heart, and where she could get over anything quickly, I couldn’t, and they would lay inside festering and bothering me, returning again and again in my mind. The dream, although upsetting in the way it woke me up, was what I needed to finally listen to those inner voices, that had been whispering and softly nagging me since I put it away months ago. I remembered there were only a few  entries left. She didn’t write in it every morning, just I guess when there was really something to write about. I sighed and got up. I went into the closet where there still hung some of my sister’s clothes. Her odd way of dressing, stylish but from another era, hung in hangers in front of me. On impulse I decided to slip into a little french thing she had bought right before her accident, and putting it on, I felt more connected to her, more ready for her to share her last thoughts with me.

I sat down on the wood floor and opened the diary…

 I sat down on the floor and opened the diary. In my way, I offered a little prayer to re-entering my sister’s dream world. “May it bring me peace and closure,” I whispered. She was saying how she was tortured by not being allowed back into her dream world. It seemed weeks had past and she had not had another. I tried to always hold my mind open without making judgements, the most important one being, if this was real or just her incredible imagination. Real begins to bend its own definition when I think of it in the phrase real dreams. Yet something in the way of her telling it, relating it to her diary was so very real, beyond lucid dreaming as she had first herself called it. The fact is, I decided to see this experience, as she did, as I always trusted my sister in her perceptions, well almost always.

The barrier was always the beginning

The barrier was always the beginning, it was the frontier between our world and the one she went into. I read, and I pictured her climbing up it, peering through it, desperately wanting to get to the other side. She had found an entity, an out of body lover, who obsessed and possessed her. As I read, I actually changed my feelings from fear for her to a warm envy that began to spread over me. Maybe envy is too strong a word, but I saw she had found something very special on the other side of the barrier, someone who truly loved her all of her. That is a dream come true for most of us, and I knew it was hers, as it was mine. She had found it. I still hadn’t. Twins are so close in so many ways, and we can fill in the gaps for each other that others leave in us, but when it comes to falling in love and surrendering to that love, well these are spaces we can not fill, and when one has that, and the other is still seeking, hoping, I think that slight envious nerve gets touched, as mine did, and was part of why I locked her diary out of my sight. Of course she was right to not share this yet with me, it was new and it had no name, but it seemed very real to her, she lived it as a reality, and the more I read, the more pages I turned, the more I felt it wasn’t just a dream. I felt her incredibly lucky.

She described the ecstasy of his entry into her mind

She described the ecstasy of his entry into her mind. She called him “my Intimate” and he called her “mine” The tears welled up inside me stinging my eyes until they let a few fall in drops. The more I read, the more I realized she had encountered the most ethereal of dreams, without bodies, only in spirit, they joined, they merged, and they loved. I breathed deeply and closed the book for a minute, holding the page with my finger. “Oh Karima, I didn’t have any idea,” I sobbed. I was feeling too much too quickly, so many realizations, she died so young, everyone said she never really knew love, and now I see, I am witness to the fact that she did. She was blessed by an experience, no one gets even if they live to be 100. Oh was this gift also her curse? “Was it worth it Karima?” Are you still somewhere, in some  world, on some plane still feeling this love. I cried and I cried. Then pulling myself together, as well I could, I re-opened her book, and continued to read.

I laid back on the floor and let her take me by the hand

 I laid back on the floor and let her take me by the hand. In a strange sort of way, the deepness of the love I felt this Intimate poured over my sister, his almost obsessive wanting of her, gave me now another feeling. I felt happy for her, happy she had these days, right before she would lose her mind, lose her life, any hope for one to her interminable coma, that finally was terminated two years after it began. Was a coffin lowered into earth, the end of this love affair? How will any of us ever know?

But my happiness quickly turned to shock and disbelief

 But my happiness quickly turned to shock and disbelief as I realized the next diary entry wasn’t written by her, or so it proclaimed, but by the very entity that loved her and now it seemed was living inside of her. This was a hard ravine for me to cross and still believe in the sanity of my sister. Was she now dividing into different personalities, falling into  psychosis? Oh Karima what was happening to you? Did madness descend over you and cause you to race out on a rainy night looking for your death? The writing of the Intimate was a desperate plea, for her to remember him,as it seems she had forgotten him, and I was not sure why? He wrote in her hand, so he said, for her to find and read it and know he now was living inside of her, in our world. Oh My God! Oh My God!

He was crying out to her using her hand, her pen, and her diary

He was crying out to her using her hand, her pen and her diary. He was begging her, now somewhere inside of her to remember what had happened. Obviously something did happen, and peeking ahead I saw there was only one long entry left, that seemed to go on for many pages. Now it was no longer about dreams, and dream worlds, it was about possession. My sister was possessed, but not by an evil ghost or the soul of someone dead, but by a lover who left his world to live inside of her. He called out to her to pick up her diary and read his words, in the hopes she would remember and know what to do. He seemed as desperate as someone underwater whose oxygen tank is on the red line, he seemed convinced he could not stay this way indefinitely. I grasped that he could not live in our world occupying the same space as my sister. It was that simple and yet my mind teetered on the edge of an abyss. Could all I was reading be real? I put the book down for awhile, and let my reason return to me. It had been stretched even beyond what I thought possible, in only reading a few pages.

Oh Karima my sweet sister, please come and fill in the blanks

Oh Karima my sweet sister, please come and fill in the blanks, come and ease my very deep confusion. I trust you, trusted you, and I know you always had your sanity holding up the rest of your beautiful artistic eccentricity. Under the wild newly budding artist, was brick and cement that held the structure so well, you could build it up to the sky without limit or fear. You were sane, right up to the end…or were you?

The Intimate begged her to remember the  torture  purging of him

The Intimate begged her to remember the torture and purging of him. I read it all absorbed in it so deeply, I would not have heard a phone ring. The tone, the voice that related all of this, a trial, being held in another world, with her already found guilty in abstencia, was not hers but his. I know I have heard cases of multiple personalities being so well developed they never crossed over one into the other, but wouldn’t I have seen some signs of this in her? The date here seemed to be just a few days before her accident. Maybe I wasn’t paying attention, as we tend to forget to do, when we are lulled into the false security of thinking all those around us, will always be there, so they become almost invisible. Rude awakening, when we have to face the sudden truth, they have been taken from us, and we never had that chance to stop what we were doing, that seemed so important at the time, and just pay them a little attention.

Her greatest torture was to see her future

Her greatest torture was to see her future, and I hung on every word, trying to know if she knew what soon would befall her, but it seems The Intimate chose to not reveal that in her diary although he knew, having also seen it clearly, and somewhere locked inside of her, she knew too. I was the only one who knew nothing, and it made me feel an aching pain of wanting closure, of closing the door on so much speculation, that had circled her accident and kept on circling for two years of her coma. Inside me this slow moving tornado was always circling, causing me a sadness like one low note repeating over and over, or the cry of a mourning dove, on a foggy hill, calling and calling. I never got that closure I so wanted. “Karima please, come close this door” I waited for two years for her to wake up. I had hope and lost hope, weekly, monthly. New treatments, new testimonies, new faith that she might rejoin us and live again, but always the door left open, when she finally breathed her last breath. Part of me was entombed when she was lowered down.I am fighting back the tears of my own self pity now, but part of me never came back from the cemetery that drizzily day, with her door swinging wide open, never to be closed it seems.

I read the final words….

I read the final words of the Intimate and I cried. I cried for them both. I guess he died or could not survive after she was injured. I will never know.There was one more entry and as I read the last page first, peeking to see who or what wrote it, I knew it was my sister’s voice. I sat back and I read the last chapter of her life that was recorded in words. “Karima no matter what, know how much I loved you.” Even such big points as sanity and insanity mean nothing now, the great leveler is death, nothing seems as important as the fact that she is gone and I miss her every day and every night.

She begins by saying how she decided to read her diary

She began by saying how she decided to read her diary, and she sat up in my room to do it too. After only a few pages she clutched the book to her heart and said out-loud
“ohhh my Intimate.. I remember you..I remember you. Are you really still here?”

Tonight I had a dream…

Tonight I had a dream after I finished reading her last amazing entry in her own words. It brought me so much peace and I am still not sure why, but I perceived my sister existed and she was close. I have decided to write it down as it seemed so significant to me. I stood on a small depression in a hillside looking out into a land I myself could never have imagined even in my dreams. It was hazy and beautiful in the most brilliant colors I had ever seen, like another dimension it called to me, but just when I was about to enter into this land, to walk down the mountain and be part of it, I awoke. I thought I heard a man’s voice call my name, but I might have been mistaken. The winds blew so sweetly and I heard bells tinkling from faraway. Standing there just looking in, I was filled with peace, and felt that the wind of this mountaintop was about to shut a door that was now only slightly left ajar… and I smiled knowing that soon it would close shut… when it was time.

to be continued…

Karima Hoisan
June 22,2011
Locus SL
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Love Tease

Posted on June 21, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

Love Tease~artist Rob Steenhorst

Love Tease

Inspired by the painting of the same name by Rob Steenhorst

I see two on a fishing trip, they are angling sportsmen on a loveless luckless night.
Smooth sounds of jazzy bars fly from their lips, like lures to wind, they cast to get a bite.
They fling their magic lines before the rain falls and gets their love boat soaking wet.
So desperate for a trophy and a prize, they toss them at some strangers they’ve just met.

“Baby baby… you are fine, I’d sure like to take you home and make you mine”
Are these ladies just the innocents in someone else’s game and perfect passion play?
“No baby this is not a line, I’d like to take you home and make you mine.”
Are they looking, to be loved at midnight, all night, hopefully for more than just a day?

I see two women out too late, in the wrong unlikely place, for finding what they seek,
being pawed and bothered, teased and followed, as their answer No! seems too oblique.
Walking faster, their gestures saying “No” I said, “No!” Why do you not yet understand?
While the hunters in the chase, pursue them hearing “No,” with their male desires fanned.

“Baby baby… you are fine, I’d sure like to take you home and make you mine”
Oh ladies are you the innocents in someone else’s game and perfect passion play?
“No baby this is not a line, I’d like to take you home and make you mine.”
Are you looking to be loved at midnight, all night, hopefully for more than just a day?

The hunter loves the hunt more than eating game, the fisherman for him it is the same.
These sporting types are proud to bag n’ brag, catch ‘n release becomes their biggest claim.
There’s only one who is what he seems to be, as humbly he sits straight up and begs,
The street dog will likely get more than all the others, who are tied up in their love tease on two legs.

“Baby baby… you are fine, I’d sure like to take you home and make you mine”
Oh ladies you might be the innocents in someone else’s game, and perfect passion play.
“No baby this is not a line, I’d like to take you home and make you mine.”
You’re looking to be loved at midnight, and all night, hopefully for more than just a day.

Karima Hoisan
June 21,2011
Linc Island SL
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*please see my comment below.

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Free Falling Flower

Posted on June 19, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

Free Falling Flower

 Free Falling Flower

The beginning is a tight-wound bud of choice

The beginning is a tight- wound bud of choice,
closed up around one tiny thoughtful seed
smooth and reckless in unknown potential
an egg of some rare and unnamed species.
Anything might hatch, anything might see the light.

Then the orchestration plays its song

Then the orchestration plays its song,
starving winds, a piper’s plaintive flute and bells
suspended bloom the breeze now coaxes patiently
and dancing petals bend and beg to open.
No one can stop revealing this unraveling.

The stem revolving, slowly poised and changing

The stem revolving slowly poised and changing,
just a dot upon the afterthoughts of dreaming air
whose breezes tease, exert control and mold
those petals pushing, straining out to open,
this flower stretched and groomed, designed to fall.

Ah, the leap of faith for blossom bravely plunges

Ah, the leap of faith for blossom bravely plunges,
the world below is like a mouse unto its’ hawk and dive.
and every part unwinds to rushing gravity divine
falling with no net or guide, just falling
perfuming sky, while cloud banks raise their flags.

Grace is not essential for a flowering offering

Grace is not essential for a flowering offering,
careening down abandoning both balance and restraint,
hidden petals whistling, twisting round on opening
It’s the plummet of the trusting bloom surrendering,
To forces pulling, unbinding cloistered beauty in descent.

Freedom's sigh escapes from lips of clinging leaves

Freedom’s sigh escapes from lips of clinging leaves,
all is open wide as in slow motion now it floats.
Who would be the one to pity this free falling choice of beauty?
Every twirl on every current, brings it closer to its marker
Every second in decline, sweet perfume paints the countryside.

And just before it makes a perfect upright landing

And just before it makes a perfect upright landing,
it somehow knows that this is where it was to be.
The seed it carries finds its way to nurtured earth and mud
What will it grow is not decided by the trusting carrier
Whose pleasure was to only serve the need, free falling was its destiny.


Karima Hoisan
June 18, 2011
Locus SL
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The Fairy Stripper~ A True Story

Posted on June 16, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

a photographic re-enactment of the moment

 One day, back in August of 2008 we were sitting around a campfire on my ranch, each sharing what our most embarrassing moments were as new residents in our new world of SL. Later that night, I decided to write one out, that wasn’t about me, although believe me I had my share, but nothing as memorable as what I will now relate to you about a dear friend of mine, let’s call her S., who has authorized the re- telling of her plight and has given me final approval on this version, which I assure you is 100% true and accurate.
 I personally found this incident so funny, I could hardly tell it the first week after it happened. I kept seeing it in mind’s eye and no matter how many times I ran it through, it didn’t lose its hysteria for me, so I could never finish telling it without giggling uncontrollably.

My friend was 2 days old, which for most of us becomes a vague remembrance.
We  forget how that very noob quality even felt, especially if we have been here at least 6 months. We tend to forget how EVERYTHING was new. Well I was with her closely the first days because I had talked her into coming to SL, so I had a responsibility to help her in what I could. I assisted her in getting new skin (top of the list in importance as far as I’m concerned) and hair,  a new outfit she picked out herself and just how to sit down, teleport, grab something, use a pose ball, the basics. Her final decision was to attach wings and be a fairy. I am not so into that but I figured why not? This IS SL. If she wants to be a fairy, who am I to say she shouldn’t?

Day 2 started off promising. She looked fantastic!  Wings fluttering behind her sea- green and blue dress. She could  walk very well now with her new AO, and looked like she had been here, so much longer than a day. All visible noobie traits were now not so easily visible. I decided to present her to my friends one at a time. The friend I chose was actually a neighbor on the Sim where I myself had first landed in SL, LINC Island. He was a great guy but rather reserved, and maybe his military background in RL helped to give him a straight upright and moral quality. I invited them both to my house where I had a little Arabic seating arrangement on the floor, individual cushions and plants all around. I thought it would be a nice ambiance to serve some tea, introduce her to my neighbor and just chat for awhile.

We all sat cross legged on the pillows facing each other in a tight circle. He had no trouble sitting down, but it took her a few seconds longer to sit rather than attempt to “take” the cushion, or “more” the cushion. She finally made the correct  right click choice and sat.
I handed him his tea, one for her, and kept one for myself. To my surprise her tea seemed to be steaming more than all the others. The steam enveloped her and I could not even see the cup in her hand. It looked like that part of the living room had caught fire, and she was surrounded by smokey vapor, a cloud cover that covered her almost completely.
  “Oh wow! What did you do? I don’t think that was the tea you found in your inventory. It’s in recent called ‘cup of tea’ just wear it and detach this other thing.”
 I tried to be helpful.
 “Oh I am not sure what I put on wait,” and she took another few seconds and then voila!! Her dress came off. Behind the steam I could see a medium-tan fairy in her bra and aquamarine pants. She had definitely detached the wrong thing.
  “Ohh S. No! that  is your dress. No.. put ON the dress. Wear the dress and  take off the vapor, or the steam, I am not sure what it even is called, do you see anything like it? Detach it. Just Detach it and put on the dress!”
 “I don’t see any dress, oh wait there I see pants”
 “No NO you have your pants on…….oh too late.”
The pants came off.
If I did not know her as well as I did, I would have sworn she had worked this routine out  just to shock us all. My neighbor was wordless, staring at her from a close distance of maybe 2 meters, drinking tea.
 Thank God for the steam. She was down to bra and panties and I was trying to save the situation as best I could as she was definitely not helping it.
“S… just put it all back on. Just find the dress, it looks like a blouse or a cube and the pants, they look like pants, and put it all back on and detach the vapor cloud.”
My neighbor, silent as a sphinx, while her wings were fluttering behind her, slightly opaque in the haze,
“Ok S. last attempt to get dressed. You with me??”
Now I was starting to see how funny this was, and could hardly contain myself to write out the instructions ONE MORE TIME.
 Her avi was so cute too, like a little angel, curly blonde hair and here she was stripping for an ex-Marine, who she had met 6 minutes before, while sitting cross legged, very cross legged behind her unnamed, unfound, apparently non- detachable smoke screen.
  “Oh wait here it is I think!” S proudly exclaimed and we all held our breath.
Would her dress go on? Would her wings come off? Each of us lost in our own thoughts and fears. She didn’t fail us, and in the position she was sitting, in she was 100% certifiably pornographic!
 My neighbor was sweet but horrified. Thank God for the vapor.
 It hid the details, so now we could just imagine we were imagining we saw her cross-legged stark naked with wings incredibly still attached.
Then her famous last words, the great finale was,
“Oh I think I found it. I know now what it is called. I got it at freebie dungeon called ‘Hot Steam’ “
She had not,looked at herself, not being adept at camera use yet, and had no idea she was  bra -less and panty-less only wings clinging to her, afraid they might be next.
“No! S. No don’t detach it. Just don’t touch it  Just ……”
OMG
She detached the steam!
Ta Da it was the end of her act… a Really Big Finale as it was just so clear and in your face that it sent my neighbor to stand quickly and go home to turn off a roast he remembered he had in the oven.
S. still didn’t know what happened as she hadn’t learned to look at herself moving the camera position and when  she did. well……
We laughed about it for 23 days..I would  wake up in the middle of the night in RL and hear her say.
 “OH I think I found it” and just laugh myself back to sleep again.

Karima Hoisan
Aug.27, 2008
La Fortuna Costa Rica Sims SL
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Part Two~The Colored Dreams~Dream Diary Entry #5 The Intimate

Posted on June 14, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

I invite you to listen to my reading of this chapter, over a beautiful mood weaving music track. It should hopefully add another dimension to the story for you.
Just click on the link below “Diary Entry #5 The Intimate″ to enjoy the mp3 recording while you read along or just look at the pictures, as if I were in your room, reading it to you out-loud Diary Entry #5 The Intimate

I am the Intimate

I am the Intimate. I float inside the mind of the one given to me. This is not my perfect abode, but only a temporary escape. I will write these words for her, using her own hand, in the book she has kept of her encounters in my world. What was my world…is no longer mine. I hover inside of her, and am so careful to not disturb anything that is her life process. I sometimes whisper so softly “mine I am here” and I feel she feels my love…perhaps only that. If I show myself to her too quickly, madness could be her future and the rest of her life. I wish so much more for her. I wish us to be together in her world. I write to her, that she may begin to remember what has been erased from her mind. Nothing can be totally erased, when there is love. I am living proof of this.

I have formed myself in a sphere

I have formed myself in a sphere, and I hide deep in a part of her mind, she never visits, perhaps only in dreams. I am shapeless and yet I exist and I feel closed up, almost restrained, and not at ease inside of her. If she could know, all that I know, and accept me like this, I would stay. Others of my kind have. They have crossed over and they have merged inside this species. Some have found great  rewards and some have driven their hosts mad, even to their deaths. Yes I do know the laws, and I know what I have done, but the fact I survived the purging of her and my memories of her, gives me hope I am supposed to find a way for us. Is that not in itself a sign? I write in her diary, using her hand, she is not even conscious now that she is awake, but feels she nodded off in a nap. I am her nap and her guide. I am her Intimate and she is mine. Our fates our sealed now as one.

Her door is still locked for me

Her door is still locked for me and until she remembers who I am and who she was with me, I can not even attempt to break it down. Her consciousness is a wall that can not be penetrated. I can use her body, I can bend it to my will, but until she calls me out by name and recognizes I am here, I must bide my time, carefully, and avoid at all costs the upsetting of her mental state, because my existence depends on hers. I love this mind, and I love even more the soul that floats over it, but I am respectful, and I am patient. I feel when she reads these words, it will start to come back to her, the purging and the moments of ecstasy we had shared before. This hope is what also keeps me from going mad.

Minutes after the purge, I lost all sense of self

 Minutes after the purge, I lost all sense of myself. Time, who I was, where I was, even my senses that are always so acute, were as if they had been shut off. Confusion.. disintegration, the void fear that haunts us all. How did I get inside her? I am not sure, but I heard her call me from that void and I leaped into her desperate thoughts, her last seconds of lucidity, then all went formless in my mind.

I streaked and extended and waited for my annihilation along with hers

I streaked and extended and waited for my annihilation along with hers. They were torturing her now, with her future, perhaps the cruelest of tortures, yet I felt she would not remember any of it, as she would not remember me. If I write all of this down now, it will cause her more harm than good. Can we escape what the future shows us? Perhaps it is possible, and one premonition is only one of millions of variations. Nothing is written in stone, but instead is written on clouds that shift and change before our sight. I am here for love and no other reason, my desire to remain with her,has brought me into her, into her world. I know I am not strong enough yet, to stay inside much longer. I need my own container, or I too will go mad and if I do, so will she. I love her too much for this to happen. If need be, I will end my existence, by leaving her and going into nothing, into no other vessel. This will be death, like being sucked into a vacuum, it will be swift but terrifying.

Hours and days inside of her with no contact is my torture

Hours and days inside of her with no contact is my torture. If my own kind were unable to punish me successfully as they had planned, I have done it now to myself, here in this way, locked out of her love, locked out of her deepest chambers, only I had ever walked inside, only I had ever opened her doors. When she surrendered to me completely, all the doors one after another, threw off their locks and opened to me as I floated by, each one begging me to enter. Ahh sublime gift that no one will ever erase from my memory. I stop in my nostalgia and I write directly to her, with all the passion I feel that swirls and hums me to the brink of rapture,
“Karima read these words. They are the words of your Intimate. I will remember for us, for both of us, until you call out my name. I am here. I am here.”
This was our marriage, our forever bond, our ring that encircled us both. I hold this image in my mind, I picture her and me floating in a crystal world, not mine and not hers, but we are together. I see this as our future, a good one, that waits for us at the end of a very long corridor.

“My beautiful mine, Press me to your face”

My beautiful mine, Press me to your face. Remember me. Remember me.”

I give her my image, that I hold of us.

I give her my image that I hold of us. I give it to her now in a dream.

 I look at her physical form and mold myself to her shapes

  I look at her physical form and mold myself to her shapes. I become the grid of her, and I spread out into her senses. I see both the aesthetically unpleasing, and I see the beauty in every layer. All of this is still not what I love. I love her formless thoughts, so much like myself in their invisibility. They surround me and whisper and touch me in a way her hands her lips, her deepest passionate places will never touch me. Our play and our great drama unfolds between the layers and the worlds. It is in a place no one can describe accurately, yet we know when we have arrived, as we are swept into each other and we are joined in a way that changes both our structures. She loses solidity, I gain it and we throb as one thought and one feeling. Ahhh I moan into her dreams, “I need you mine. I need you. I need you to remember me”

She awakes and I retreat.

She awakes and I retreat. Most of me hides while a tiny part of me circles her beautiful face, putting a glow over her skin, warming her face, trying to bring her the peaceful state of having woken from a nap. I look at her and I wish I could have my own vessel now to pull her into it, surround her and take her again, and again, into my thoughts and visions, possess her until she breathes inside of me, breathes for me in total surrender. I am her Intimate and she is the one I call mine.

All the layers in all the worlds are only a rough drawing

All the layers in all the worlds are only a rough drawing,a crude sketch of the greatness that is our souls. Are there other layers of existence, other world where there are no souls? Yes there are, but I do not bother even thinking of them. I look out of her as she looks into a mirror. I am the outline inside her existence and I see her beauty reflected in her world, I have always seen the beauty in this species of form and appendages, where others in my world could never see it. They were repulsed where I was attracted. This is what we say is “written”. Our meeting and our love was written in her blood and my essence, not clouds, and there is no going back from it.

Soon my beauty, I will bring you back into me

 Soon my beauty, I will bring you back into me. I will watch your eyes glow in wonder and exultation and I will take you further than any human has ever been..but even that remote border space will not explain what our death might mean to us both. I think this as I hide inside. I do not have her write this part down. I know the scenes are being set for something that will not be easily avoided, and she is yet unready to understand or even accept all of what she lives, oblivious of the forces, and the one who is now inside of her deeply throbbing his love against her, what he sees lays up ahead.

I stay still as I watch her pick up her diary.

I stay still as I watch her pick up her diary. She seems confused and is still surrounded by scenes of my world as if waking from a dream, but she is at the same time attentive, as if she were listening to someone call her name. I only whisper it once, so moved by seeing her awake, I can not control my urge.
“mine I am your Intimate.” I project a ball of light that rests over her heart, but it can last only a few seconds. I am not strong enough to hold it and keep it visible. I need my own vessel,  and I gasp as I go back into her, watching her head move from side to side, as she listens harder, her posture, her face fully poised, waiting to hear that subtle far away sound again, but I choose to remain silent. I hold myself back. Ahh such torture for one like me! If I could, I would surround her now and take her from the inside out, but she would never recover from something so violent and so aggressively selfish of me. My passion could destroy any chance for us..and so I pull back into her chamber, rarely visited and there I remain silent trying to calm the hum that has risen in me and filled me until I almost flow out of her. I must be so careful.

I have seen the vision in her tortured last moments

 I have seen the vision in her tortured last moments in my world. Yes I believe the accident will come. I saw it as she saw it, and perhaps it is for the better, she no longer remembers it. Am I inside the vessel she holds in her arms? If I am, it means she has woken up from the erasing, the purging of her memories and she knows who I am, and she races to protect me. This is what I feel the dream is saying. Am I still inside her? It doesn’t make that much difference. If we are headed to this moment of blinding headlights and an unavoidable devastating accident, in either state I have no idea what my outcome or hers may be, but I have made the choice and will not abandon her. I will die for her, with her, or live for her and with her. What we are, can not be cast apart.
I am her hope and her destiny, I am her lover and her last moments.
I am her Intimate. No other has been before me. No other will come after me.

to be continued…

Karima Hoisan
June 14, 2011
Linc Renacer SL

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We Are What We Watch

Posted on June 11, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

I have never mentioned this in a blog post, but most friends in Second Life already know that between the hours of 6pmslt and 8pmslt I am usually unreachable, as it is my Sacred Video Time shared with my buddy Menubar Memorial. Unbelievably, and I am rolling my own eyes here, we have been doing this for more than 15 months, and rare are the nights, maybe counted on one hand, that we have missed our Video Hour. The irony is, I only watch television, and TV series in Second Life (addicted much?) but it is because TV is not interactive enough for me. There is so much more fun to be had, sitting with someone thousands of miles away, kibitzing and commenting in local chat on what we are seeing at the exact same time on his giant screen, perched up high in very tall chairs, nibbling on super-sized donuts, “The Cabin” as we call it, was Menubar’s first decorating choice because we were starting Twin Peaks way back when, and he wanted to put us in the  black-cuppa joe-donut-mood, that Twin Peaks was so famous for.

Complete with Log Lady's Log and the Owl

We have seen such an incredible number and eclectic variety of movies, and entire season’s of TV shows, that my small mind probably can’t remember them all here, but they go from everything David Lynch made(or dreamed of making) Huff, The Sopranos, Roger Water’s The Wall, Lexx, Trailer Park Boys, My Name Is Earl, Stingray Sam, Star Trek ( Deep Space Nine and The Next Generation) The Wire, lots of quirky weird movies Menubar finds from all over the world, like Big Man Japan(we invited Crap Mariner to share that one with us ) to now finally what we are totally engrossed in, thanks to my SL sister Maria Vought, owner of a really popular and fabulous Sim called “Natural Wilderness”, who suggested it.  Dr Who is a series that has lasted 49 years, but we are beginning it from 2005 to present time. I found a few random moments of Cabin Video life I will share with you below.

It all started with Twin Peaks..warming up with an Intermission video

The Cabin was designed to get into the mood for Twin Peaks. Every time we saw that robin come on the screen, and heard the music, we felt like we were coming home to heaven.
Menubar even added the Log Lady’s log, the Owl and the fish to the coffee pot for you Twin Peakers out there, who remember all those little surreal David Lynch details.

Watching a Seba Sideways-Tukso Okey video by Menubar

A favorite to warm up with, was a great music video Menubar did for Seba Sideways and Tukso Okey dual streaming, called “Sold My Soul To The Devil” I have it on a post I did about Tukso and you can see it there embedded at the end, above a poem I wrote for him.

Jeff Wayne's War Of The Worlds

A few times we did move out of our habitual north woods habitat, and go down to enjoy a concert or a special surround video in the Dome, events like Roger Water’s The Wall Live in Berlin, because a show like that is too hard to just sit in a high chair and not get up and dance all around to it

A new video set by Menubar to honor the movie Dune

For David Lynch’s Dune, Menubar put us out on the sands in such a way, we felt like we were really there with both of us nervously looking around for those tell tale signs of bulging underground Sandworm movement in our direction. Awesome! Can a living room at home ever compare to this?

Uniformed and ready to witness the end of Star Trek Deep Space Nine

For the last episode of Star Trek, which took us months and months to get through, even watching 3 at a clip, we got all dressed up in role and proudly put the final seal on the fact that we were now officially Second Life Trekkers!

Happiness Merryman joined us for a Dr.Who

Happiness Merryman of 2nd Life Stories joined us one night for Dr. Who and took this great shot for her blog  Now Menubar has added almost all the cast of the major series we have seen together (plus all the posters he has done for my poetry readings.) Our Cabin is filling up with 15 months of nostalgia and history, and we are getting more visitors too. Gracie Kendal (of the 1000 avatars project) has become a regular in the last week. This brings me to my theory, which I will try to prove in only a few short sentences and two photos submitted as evidence to support it.,

We are what we watch..and we are watching a lot of Dr.Who.

If we are what we watch, and we are watching a lot of Dr. Who, there is a real possibility we might pull in the good Doctor, or at least some of his fellow travelers at any minute. So when a week ago, I received an IM from someone who had just been to a poetry reading I did, and I saw on his profile that he was a “Renegade Time Traveler” ( Dr. Who being the last of the Time Travelers) I did not hesitate to ask for a ride on his TARDIS. ( Time and relative dimension in space) the best space ship (disguised as a Police Box) in the whole universe. Last night I actually took that ride…

Emperor Nobilis and his TARDIS with Karima Rose

What a thrill to hear and see the TARDIS appear on my Sim

I did the quickest change into Rose (Dr. Who’s cherished traveling companion) I could pull off, before the TARDIS landed, or should I say appeared, on my island. I was digging way down deep to find my blonde wig, knowing my rather long nose was unlike her turned up one, but trying to get the feel of someone familiar, that the TARDIS and its pilot, might easily and comfortably welcome. The Renegade Time Traveler, also known in Second Life as Emperor Nobilis, was an amazing host and took me to see many lands, and many undreamed wonders of the Metaverse. It was like being in a second level virtual voyage, a virtual dream within a virtual dream. Is watching a flat screen TV on a Friday night with your cat ever this much fun?
Then today my theory was again proven when I was invited to the first Combat Card Tournament on Splintered Rock. I, who have been gorging on sci-fi characters through my eye-balls recently, now have a Combat Card, designed as my own character, one I played quite a while back, but ironically it all came home today. See Post: “Was It The Spice?” To view the entire Splintered Rock Deck of Combat Cards click the link. Combat Cards are copyrighted by Doc Boffin and Osprey Therian.
I will close with this thought I was pondering tonight. Luckily Watermoon Breeze Menubar’s fabulous Sim which has his goodies for sale, and his video dome, is PG. I thought, good thing too, because the way I am pulling into my “real virtual life” what I am watching on the big screen, I think we are so much better off that it is not rated…umm Adult. I mean who knows what I could have become?….or Menubar??!!
The mind careens on the outer edges of a black hole thinking like this.

Combat Cards Splintered Rock Deck Entrancing Moves aka Karima Hoisan

They should have called me “Dangerous Entrancing Moves” as…Entrancing is my middle name..

The End
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