Monthly Archives: June 2018

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Facing threats to the south (Cult of Oo’d)…

… the east (Fal Mouth Moon)…

… the north (Stairs)…

… Sister Martha Lamb retreats into her fortress of cheese to worship the gateway gods. She chooses liquor tonight just to switch it up…

… but when fellow devotee Jack Richardson starts to sneeze and sniff beside her, she changes back to the standard fries on the opposite side of the prayer room.

Good ol’ fries. Never lets her down. Now if she could only stop stealing glances at Baker B.’s degenerate collages in the Fal Mouth Moon across the street and focus on the Great Cheese. That hand, that hand…

One worry: she’ll start to develop stigmata but of the wrong kind. Tell tale type.

It’s all leading somewhere but she doesn’t know where.

I might.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0009, 0406, Lake District, Rubi^, United Kingdom

too soon

Mary usually talked to Ralph (horse) during her after-dark angling sessions at Rubisea, but tonight was different. Indigo, a night owl herself, made an introduction.

—–

Indigo was full of questions about her new home. “Why do you call it the Rubi Sea?” the blue woman asked in her deep, almost masculine voice. And with odd overtones to it.

“Ru-BI-se-A,” Mary pronounced correctly. “It’s just a joke name. It’s a little pool of water but we call it a sea, see? And of course Rubi is the sim it’s in — we’re in. Well, *you’re* in. Say you just moved in night before last?” She looked over at the trailer sitting on the southwest corner of the lot, perched atop the spring that feeds the pool. She was eager to go take a closer look but Indigo seemed to want to keep her distance from it, maybe so as not to wake kinfolk Angus and Ragdoll inside.

” Ru-BI-se-A,” Indigo repeated, and gazed over at the water to her left. “And this *perch*, you say, is the only fish in it. Like the Perch restaurant daddy and sis and I ate at yesterday with the big, human head mounted on the wall — another Perch. And then to add to it we had the perch at Perch.” She pointed left. “From this pool?”

Nah, these little fishes are hardly worth the bait to catch him. The restaurant’s fish are imported from the big fresh water lakes over in the Pond District, I believe. Tethia and Sesea. Maybe Pruni too.”

“Tethia and Sesea and Pruni.” Indigo found that saying names aloud helped her remember them. Or writing them down — but she forgot to bring her notepad and ink pen out tonight. She was going to start taking notes on the position of all the trees of the forest. Her daddy said that’s how she can help best right now in their efforts. Ragdoll will focus on religion, he’ll focus on The Diagonal as a whole, and Indigo will have the woods. She’s started reading Karl’s “Blood Curdling Tells of the Rubi Woods,” a Collagesity classic by now.

“But tell me more about yourself,” Mary then requested. “I know you’re from Obscure just over the hill — beyond The Wall. But were you born there?” Mary was guessing not, judging by her colorful appearance.

“Bennington.” Indigo almost spit the name out. “Don’t want to talk about it,” she added clippingly.

So Mary thought of other things for potential discussion. “How did you get involved in this — Pot-D wasn’t it?”

Indigo reflexively found herself biting her tongue again. She had slipped up near the beginning of their nighttime conversation, so glad she was to talk to another human being besides Angus and Ragdoll. So she decided to erase the faux pas from Mary’s mind. Indigo began toying with the triangular red amulet hanging round her neck, with glints from its silver skeletal hands catching Mary’s eye now and then. “Beautiful, isn’t it. My daddy gave this to me when I turned 13.” Indigo then reached around with both hands and removed the necklace, laying it on the table between them and making sure the triangle faced Mary full on. The fisherwoman was already transfixed by now.

“Pot-D is a secret between you and me Mary. Collagesity will know in time what it means, but for right now you must keep it locked away in your mind. Locket. Locket. Lock-it.”

And just like that the deed was done. Indigo gathered up the necklace and said she had to get back to bed now since the sun was about to come up. Mary picked up her fishing pole and headed back to Darkly Manor, with the last thing she recalled about their conversation being Indigo’s hatred of her home town. Farmington, wasn’t it? Something “-ing”, anyway. Pretty sure.

“Goodbye, um…,” but Mary also couldn’t quite recall the name of the horse she had been friends with going on a year now.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0009, 0405, Rubi^

new Max related graffiti found in still vacant Stairs Gallery

But who’s Ruby? observing Ragdoll wonders.


Also new: binocular viewer atop Stairs.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0009, 0404, Iris^^==, Rubi^

The introduction of Pot-D.

“Thank you for waiting, Roger.”

“No problem… The Bill.”

“Bill, please. For now.”

“Well I’ll get straight to it. Since this is the only Fisher Island in Wisconsin (Roger indicates the map still displayed on the media feed of The Table Room), and then the only *Fishers* Island — plural — in the state is on a Hazelhurst topo map — that we’re talking about an exchange: Fisher or Fishers Island for New Island. I am such an exchange, after all, since I’m not Roger Waters but Roger Pine Ridge. And it has worked out all right for me. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You are indeed,” affirms Bill. “And we’re glad to have you sitting at our Table. You are *The* Variant, as I might be *The* Bill. Interesting symmetry.”

“Is it?”

“Could be.”

Roger puts a hand to his naturally cracked lips. “Does this Ruby have to affect the change? Can you not do it yourself?”

“As you know, RPR, I am indeed queen of Collagesity, but only because Mabel is so involved in New Island that’s she’s rarely here. Once she returns — all this aberrant energy she feels is dealt with — then she’s back here and a battle shapes up. I need to know what side you’re on. I’d like you to stand with me, obviously. Not that your position at The Table is in doubt, it’s just…”

“So Mabel controls Ruby,” interrupts an engrossed Roger Pine Ridge. “Ruby, the girl of 15, of course, and not Rubi the Woods. No one can control the forest.”

“Not so fast on that, Roger PR, my aberrant friend. We have a plan.”

“We?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0009, 0403, New Island^, Rubi^

It’s official.

Roger Pine Ridge is back in town, and in his old apartment next to SoSo Mall formerly shared with old girlfriend Cyberpaperdoll, who, you might recall, ran off with a younger, hipper dude named Bandit Boy during his stint in Iris in the heart of the Heterocera continent. Roger says he’s tired of toying around, as he put it, with our user Baker B. up in the real world, and was itching to get back to playing a “less pressurized, less constrained” part in the still evolving “Collagesity mythos” — again his words. Here he poses with the cutout of another, directly related Roger at the town’s Blue Feather Club: Roger “Syd” Barrett, his fellow bandmember during the early days of psychedelic mega-group Pink Floyd and its original driving force. The mantle of band leader passed from Roger (Syd) to Roger (Roger) in early ’68, as Syd’s mind gradually turned to mush. But you see his fingerprints all over later (and more commercially successful) Floyd in such albums as “Wish You Were Here”, “The Wall,” and, of course, the masterpiece of them all, 1973’s “Dark Side of the Moon”, whose main theme is elements of the world (constraints of “Time”, pressures of “Money”, etc.) that lead one to go mad (“Brain Damage”).

Roger Pine Ridge had his way paid out of the Iris “swamp village” by newly crowned continental queen Bill — The Bill. He chose to enter the real world first, but now leaves behind the old, old disagreement of Missouri vs. Arkansas as the heart of our US of A to focus on “virtual frivolities”.

Again, his phrasings. Welcome back Roger!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0009, 0402, Rubi^

warrior

From his perch atop Pimushe Island, zebra-donkey Zettie Lamont laments the recent loss of the undifferentiated mini coop from nearby Fisher’s Isle down below because he knows it means the beginning of the end for his beloved New Island.

He also laments the loss of his Uncle Zippers in the island’s short but bloody ’92 war between The Actors and The Observers, and often trots over to Flossie’s in the Leon sim to complain to former soldier and current couch potato Norris about it.

“Get off your striped ass and do something!” he might sprayingly bray into the bleached man’s face during any one visit. He’s earned that right.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0009, 0401, New Island^

Rubisea

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0009, 0317, New Island^

foundation 02

Fisher and Bendy or Lord Bendington returned to the place of their rebirth, wondering if the pink mini coop was in good enough shape to be driven around the island. They had a lot of ground to cover now what with running New Island Studios and visiting all those galleries. Or potential galleries. Reliable wheels would be nice.

“Hey Fisher,” Bendy said in his standard gruff tone, staring beyond the car.”

“Hey Lord Bendington,” Fisher replied playfully in an innocent monotone.

“Do *you* remember that island over there? I don’t.”

Fisher admitted it was all just a blur for him when they resurfaced to the, um, surface, but knew LB, being a robot, would have a more accurate memory imprint of the event. At least now that he’s back in the Elephant Club.

“A new island,” Lord Bendington said almost religiously. “‘Nother one.”

“How many does that make?” Fisher queried. “We need to start *eliminating* them instead of adding to the total.”

“I *know*.”

“We should name it for the sim instead. Not New Island or New New Island or whatever this time.”

“Good one!” A satisfied Bendy sits in the car. “Hop in. Let’s see what this baby’s still got!”

“Um. Bendy?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0009, 0316, New Island^

foundation

“You should really get something for that itch, Shirley,” spoke Ruby to her new friend while posing on an effigy of island legend Jim Turtle at sunrise, not far behind Bumpy’s Ice Cream Village. “Sand fleas don’t really seem to be bothering anyone else around here that I know of.”

“I think it’s actually a sexual thing. I’ll be 13 in two week; coming of age you know. I look at men — differently now.”

Ruby decides to open up a bit more about a related topic. “My Aunt Annie is looking at men different now too.”

Shirley scratches her left underarm. “What do you mean?” The tomgirl was secretly wondering how old Ruby was and hoping she would tell her, along with also talking about how she feels around boys now. Shirley was guessing: about 15. Old enough to know a lot more than her on the subject.

“Oh… she just looks at them like, I don’t know, *objects* now. Pieces of art.”

“Like the stuff we just saw?”

Ruby considered this, thinking back to Smelly Santy, Tronesisia, and the rest at API. “Yeah, I guess it’s not too much different. No Hazel tonight thankfully. Thank you for coming with me.”

Shirley was scratching the top of her hinny now. “No problem, my fellow New Islander. *Lady* New Islander. We girls here must stick together. Against all those men.”

Ruby knew what she meant. Objects, hmph. Like we were made of plasticine or something. Movable, bendable toys. Annie was just joining the crowd, doing what Romans do or whatever the expression was. She was falling into the rhythm and beat of the land, Ruby then thought and was pleased she came up with the phrasing. “Do you think this island has a pulse?” Ruby tried to reword it in better terms. “You know, like a, um, fundamental *tone*?” Ruby rolls over on the turtle and looks directly at Shirley Boot now, gauging her expression, the green terrain of what would later be known as Pimushe Isle jutting out of the sea in the background.

“Sea,” Shirley then uttered out of the blue without consideration.

“C?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0009, 0315, New Island^

5 palms and the truth?

There was a disturbance in The Force today at New Island’s Mt. Sondra.

And poor little abused Jim’s Isle was threatened with extinction.

We can’t lose yet another one!

—–

11:11pm update:

Crisis over; slow-to-react but still safe Jim Turtle returned to hammock. 🙂

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0009, 0314, New Island^