Category Archives: 0019

Corsican Collagesity 07

She was walking in circles around the neighborhood. Each time I got close she disappeared around the next corner. But it appeared to be…  me!

I decided to stop chasing and just wait on her. I’d figured out the pattern. I noticed other people were walking around too. But they didn’t catch my eye. Olive-green jacket, grey-black backpack, faded demin jeans.

She ran into me (me again!), and even pushed me back a bit. This was no apparition. Solid! She was taller than me. And — dare I say it — less, um, frumpy. Prettier to put it differently.

I knew she *had* to be indicating something of importance. “Look here!” she said in her repetitive striding. But the block of structures she perpetually strolled around didn’t have much substance to it. I couldn’t even find a place to sit (using remote viewing) to observe her better. So I just stayed on this corner she’d pushed me into; thought about the next move.

—–

It took her about a minute and 15 seconds to complete the circuit.

I had come to Heartsdale to search for more information about John. Instead I found something quite unexpected: that I had already been here, *was* here in a different way. Taller, hmm. Did I mistakenly switch out bodies at some point? But this doppleganger sweeping by me like a second hand on a 5/4th watch was not ensouled. She was just a marker. But  — it — was — *me*. Think, Yoko Ona, think.

—–

“She doesn’t appear to be a bad witch listening in on her thoughts, Hucka Doobie.”

“No, she is truly mystified as to what is happening in this Heartsdale with its Ned and, um (checking), Pop in the Pavilion.”

—–

“Hucka, I think this mystery is bigger than the present novel, or moves beyond it. Better start the next.”

END OF “COLLAGESITY 2020 MIDDLE”; START OF “COLLAGESITY 2020 MORE MIDDLE”!

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Corsican Collagesity 06

Perspective has changed at De House. Mann has lost wo-Mann in a way, in a manner. A hole has been formed in the middle. Witches. Which witch is which? What is good and what is baad?

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Corsican Collagesity 05

He was in the cemetery again, neither Phillip nor Lime but *both*. Or in-between. “A linden in England is called a lime,” he recalls from his days as a Gaeta bartender. He also remembers “Rookwood”.

He is buried here. He imagines being within the grave, staring up.

He resists the urge to smoke even though it no longer matters now.

He spirals inside the grave to a different place altogether. He has Vertigo but it doesn’t drive him crazy. Instead: sane.

He is in his own world now, at his own Hills dividing Maebaleia aka Satori into 2 parts, North and South. He *created* this. But then another comes in and tries to take it over. He remembers more from the bar: philosophical discussions about a cubic moon of Our Second Lyfe, and even a Moon of the Moon where avatars are shrunk down greatly from normal size to accommodate the small space. Space. Corners. Cube. Furthest corners of Space. The Moon is relatively close. Far out.

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Corsican Collagesity 04

And so we end at the Hills of Bill again in the center of Maebaeleia, where an agreement between the World of Lemon and Lime World was forged, thanks to Yoko Ona in large part. She is a witch, true. But, we hope, a white one, working for the forces of good instead of evil. That is really our only hope moving forward. Because if not — we’re *all* screwed.

—–

“The agreement, dear *Lindens*,” she speaks in the yard before the legendary trailer, is that John and I will move forward into a new continent and create a new religion called *Peakology*, beyond the Sinkology that has dominated Our Second Lyfe so far. The first 3 true peaks are the Hills of Bill here: Turtle, Sifton, and then right here, at the highest, the namesake Bill Hill. We go within to sign the contract, to seal the deal. The continent of *Corsica* is born from *Maebaleia*.

“Okay,” Phillip utters.

—–

“Phillip, are you paying attention?”

“I’m paying attention.” He stops attempting to see the shortest of the three Hills of Bill, Turtle Hill (or Butte), from this higher vantage point. About 2 sims east it should be, he estimates correctly. But the blinds block his vision. He is blinded in that direction. But he could have *swore* the agreement was suppose to be signed there, in that more centrally placed position on the continent recently devastated by the 3 1/2 day North-South Civil War. He and Flat Ebbe and Flat Rodvik, Lindens all, are here to put a stop to all that. They were willing to admit failures in the past that caused all the conflict and division. But why the switch of location? It seemed meaningful. He couldn’t get it out of his big fat head. Options, he kept thinking. Options are important.

In truth, everything was still secretly revolving around The Room, even though no one present understood that.

—–

Phillip just blurted it out as Yoko Ona was penciling in some final corrections on the contract at the dining room table. “Why *not* Turtle Hill — or Butte?”

“This is the *highest* of the hills, the *namesake*. We talked about this in the phone call from this morning. You sure you guys don’t want to sit down?”

“They’re fine,” Phillip answers for both once more. “The Flats are only here as witnesses.” In case something goes wrong he says to himself, hoping for the best (again).

She slides the amended paper across to him. He moves his elbows closer to the blue table to study. He’s read it all before, but just wanted to note the changes Yoko Ona mentioned in the call. “Bill Hill,” she insisted in it. “Turtle Hill (or Butte) is *in* the Hills of Bill but not Bill Hill itself. It should be signed there.”

“But Turtle is more central,” he began the counterargument, which continues.

He imagines staring down at a giant lime instead of a contract. Where has he seen this before?

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Corsican Collagesity 03

“I wanted to bring you here, Hucka Doobie, to show you where John and I use to meet to go to our various hangouts. Before he became — well, you know now.”

“Solid lime green,” responded Hucka, recalling the meeting. “Lemon”.

“Yeah, the whole *blurring* of the n’s. Like we can’t see properly. And we *can’t*. John is lost to me. But *here*. We could go back…”

“To go back is to die, Marty,” the resident Sunklands blog spirit offered to this.

“Yeah. I suppose.” Marty looked around. “Smells so fresh here after a pouring rain. This is where I also became the Fireman. In short: I want to help.” He stared straight at Hucka Doobie here.

“The Table.”

“Yes!”

—–

“I suppose it makes sense,” replied Baker Bloch later to Hucka Doobie sitting at the same. “He *does* live here after all. He’s just a skip and a beat away. Lemon can’t come, though.”

“Oh no,” states Hucka Doobie. “He has a, well, he has a hole in the middle that can’t be filled. Property of a *witch*.”

“Now Hucka, you know we can’t say that here.”

“*We* — just did.”

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Corsican Collagesity 02

For their second “date”, Marty took Hucka Doobie to a remote coffee shop in the sky on a parcel bordering his own over in eastern Urqhart. “Bring your mac,” he warned. “It’s always pouring rain there.”

—–

“It really is raining quite hard here,” spoke Hucka Doobie, staring out.

On his part, Marty wasn’t looking at the rain.

—–

“I think he likes me (!),” she exclaimed later to Baker Bloch back at the Perch restaurant in Collagesity one sim over.

“Oh, come on, Hucka,” said one of her two oldest friends in this world, along with female counterpart Baker Blinker. They go back over a decade now. “You know he’s probably still married to Linda Halsey. And he lusts after that Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child. And he’s had an affair with Audrey, even after causing the death of her husband Jeffrie Phillips before deciding to resurrect him at her urging. In other words: he plays the fields.”

“Strawberry Fields,” responds the wise bee person. “Lemon is back as well (!). I get to meet him on our next, er, get together.”

“Still afraid to commit to calling it a date, I see.”

Hucka Doobie knew Marty and herself didn’t have a real future as a couple. She was just trying to get under Baker Bloch’s skin, see how he felt about the whole situation. I guess it seems to be working? she queried herself while staring into his cold, dead eyes, looking for signs of life.

—–

“Well?” asks Hucka Doobie after an hour. “Where is he, Marty? You said he’d meet us at Perch.” Marty still wasn’t paying attention, staring down from Hucka’s eyes. “Oh I don’t know. Probably picking up more eggs for Yoko or something.”

Lemon’s foot enters the door…

… shortly followed by his body. “Hell-o hell-o hell-o”.

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Corsican Collagesity 01

“It really is very nice, Hucka Doobie. But — where are all the *new* collages?”

“Well,” she responds to Marty as they keep walking toward the Temple of TILE, perhaps the final destination of the night. “*That* process has basically been absorbed in the generation of the Collagesity *photo*-novels, photos equaling vague or simplified types of collages quite often. Like this.”

Marty looked over at the profile of the walking bee-woman. “Like what?”

“Never mind,” she says, “that wasn’t for you.”

“Hmm.” They continue forward toward The Junction. Official name? They pause here.

“Temple of TILE — thataway, Marty. Barry X. Vampire’s new writing house: dead ahead. Which way do we go?”

“Is this, ahem, another *collage*? One I can’t see?”

“Maybe, er, baby.”

“Listen, baby. I must be going. Lemon is coming over for stew, bringing Yoko Ona. The ‘Coming Up’ song really worked! He’s back in business. Solid lime-green he is. You should come see him.”

“I saw that Barry X. Vampire had written about that,” spoke a noncommittal Hucka Doobie. “But — what of the solid lime green auto? Back in Storybrook.”

“Oh that place is so *history*,” quickly replied Marty, waving his hand in dismissal. “Lemon’s taken its place. You have to choose between green and yellow. You can’t have one over the other.”

“But you *can*.” Marty didn’t understand this. After pecking her cheek with a swift kiss he chose the path to the Temple of TILE to get to the Circuit La Corse which would take him home. Hucka Doobie stood her ground, staring ahead at Barry’s place on Collagesity’s edge and wondering what just happened. Next to the town dump currently he is. Barry hadn’t complained about the smell yet. Perhaps that’s a bad sign about his health.

—–

“You and Marty had a *what*?”

“I think — it was a kind of date (!)”

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Pipe Room 03

Her future besties Tronesisa “Blue Eyes” and Duncan “Avocado” were already there, playing up a storm. She realized a Void needed to be filled. The drum set beckoned. She already had drumsticks sticking out her back pocket. She tended to carry them everywhere she went now. The drumsticks were sure to go.

She sits in the middle, sticks at ready.

Tom Banks reenters the room. “Oh, so you’re trying to get out of this through a trance, huh.” He draws his gun again.

There was only one thing left to do for Marsha “Pink” Krakow. “Hit it!” she shouted at the top of her lungs while the sticks traveled down. The whiteness takes her.

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Pipe Room 02

She tried to see better through the tears. The girl in front of her couldn’t be see-through. Could she? Unless…

“Frankie?” she almost whispered. “Frankie — is it — you?” She struggles some more against the pipe, then looks again. The apparition persisted.

“There is that aspect,” Jenny allowed. “I am not dead, though. I appear through *time*.” She let that sink in.

“Time?” Marsha “Pink” Krakow was crying harder again. Jenny knew she was in danger of losing contact. She exposed more. “Not space, because it essentially happened in this very spot once more.” Did this help? Marsha looked like she was going to fall into a black hole, never to be found. An emotional hole inside of her kept whirling everything she knew and understood into itself. This is what Jenny must save her from.

“Options, Marsha,” she exposed more. “You are a *Star*. You *can* be reborn from the Great Void.  Think, Marsha, think. Dwell on your future. See yourself drumming like you’ve never drummed before, in front of a large, *worshiping* audience. *See* yourself there.”

Marsha “Pink” Krakow fought hard against the Void. She entered a time, a space, not yet recorded, not yet known about. Tom Banks couldn’t find her here, she realized. She entered the club…

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Pipe Room 01

Her friend Frankie “Beige/Brown” Hockentopper was dead. She knew it by the way murderer Tom Eugene Banks spoke of her. “Frankie *was* like that too,” he mentioned during the last visit about the similar ways they both hurled back the insult “f-ck you a-hole” when he asked them to do him a favor. Like, “*shut* UP.” Brown even went so far as to sing the entirety of “Mary Had a Little Lamb” after the final insult just to rile him up more. Not a really good idea, given what he did next. “Mary never had a Lamb,” he spoke over the body with smoking gun after cutting the third and last stanza a bit short. “They’re (the lambs) all gone,  Frankie, leaving dreams exposed — best left unrecorded.” He snaps a picture with his polaroid camera. He turned toward the Magic Red Door still on the wall. Igor can clean this mess up. He must find the *next* star — quickly, before she disappears from Storybrook altogether.

And so here she is. Attached to the same pipe as friend Frankie was. Then another appears, not Igor but a girl. Not really the ghost of recently deceased Frankie, although there’s an aspect of that involved. Instead: Jenny, who grows up to be none other than Your Mama.

“I’m here… to help.”

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