Category Archives: Novels

meeting

He was playing a white piano in Black Dragon, waiting for Axis. Well he was *pecking* at the thing, since Baker Bloch is quite the non-musician. “I can’t even play John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’ on this,” Baker lamented aloud, non-talented hands finally lifted from the keyboards. “Better get over to Spunky’s”.

—–

“Have we met before?” Baker Bloch asks after sitting down with Axis at Spunky’s. The wine had just arrived. Merlot for both.

“Sure we have, Baker Bloch. You played the piano for me.”

Baker Bloch stared at him, knowing he was confusing him with someone else. But he was too embarrased to talk about his lack of musical abilities right now, especially after the white piano fiasco. He *dreams* he can play the piano quite well. Why not in reality? he’s asked himself more than once. Not even “Imagine”.

“Y-you must be confusing me with someone else,” he offered after a pause. *Pitch* can play the piano. Has Axis met Pitch?

“As you wish,” the black clad man with the red crossed chess returned, allowing the matter to drop. In his reality, black moves first in chest. Baker has indeed met Axis (novel 15; toward the end) but doesn’t recall. What he *did* note here is that their voices are strangely synchronized — same tone, same mannerisms. He also doesn’t recall that Axis is already married in that reality. To Teebestia, the open heart woman from, let’s see, novel 5 I believe. Yes, the one set almost exclusively in Olde Lapara Towne, also mentioned recently in this here blog, um, this here photo-novel (16).

“Well anyway, congrats on the marriage old chap!” Baker raises his glass, and Axis reciprocates. They don’t clink because that could end the dream. “Good that we’ve met and discussed things. I’ve grown quite fond of Wheeler down through the years now. We had a rocky start, being competitors for the ownership of Collagesity originally, but now we’ve learned to share. Part for me, see, and part for her. And, I suppose, now part for you as her partner. Will you be living in Collagesity? Maybe at the Julia House? My friend Karoz Blogger will not be returning it doesn’t seem. He was slated to live there.”

“That could happen,” Axis matched Baker, almost at mate. Black opening first makes all the difference. He can add the “N” at the end to finish.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0016, 0605, Jeogeot, NWES Island

besties

Baker Bloch was working alone tonight. The marriage of Wheeler was throwing him off his game, he felt. How could this be? He was trying to figure out how to organize all the Gaston posts into a separate page, a separate site even. He must be careful. Randolph with an additional name of Cross of all things. 2 doors down from Axis. 2 doors down from…

The door to the almost finished coffee shop in the central part of NWES opened. “Thought you might need some company tonight.” Hucka Doobie, Baker thought, rather disappointed that he couldn’t hide from the other core avatars completely. Ever. They were a family bound together in this virtual space and time, perhaps beyond. “Hi Hucka,” he offered as graciously as manageable. “Have a seat. Have some coffee. On the house.”

—–

I’ll sit in here and read until Hucka Doobie finishes her pie.

—–

“What is that thumping noise, Baker Bloch?” queries his bee-friend after the bathroom break, after the pie. Maybe his best friend now that Baker Blinker spends so much time in Chilbo, away from *Collagesity* (Collagesity! Yay!).

“Must be coming from the apartments directly above us. The Foxxy I believe it’s called — yes, checking remotely: The Foxxy. The primary owner and creator of the town was working on those at the same time I was working here, directly below. He contacted me via im about another matter — rental one — and I told him I was directly below him at the moment, which he didn’t know.”

“You have to be careful about contacting the outside. Outside our family of avatars, I mean.”

“I know. You’re right of course. But this is the *guy* who also created the duplicate Faux Rhino over in Gaston. I so so wanted to talk to him about it — why the duplication, so forth. It was so tempting.”

“Just that,” Hucka Doobie reinforced in her warning. “Another temptation.” She looks over at the shrine again, just outside the cafe at the terminus of a small, dead end hallway. Baker notices and starts to explain a bit more.

“Lu Ellen Hutchison is becoming a town hero, at least in certain parts. The place, NWES, is split down the middle, just like a certain US of A our joint user lives in up in the so called Real World. Real Life.”

“I know,” opines Hucka Doobie. “So cliche.”

Baker blows out some air, then continues. “Anti-gay, anti-immigrants, anti-whatever. Negative forces, Hucka Doobie. Save the unborn fetuses who are less than 3 months old but kill off all the old people in the world. It’s backwards. It’s *madness*.”

“Yes,” agrees Hucka Doobie, then glances at the shrine again. “Madness.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0016, 0604, Jeogeot, NWES Island

JuliaN

“Two Joint Joints, side by side. One in Gaston — here. The other: NWES. How could this be?” Then Greg Ogden remembers who he is, deep down. He loses the hair, the campy hobo shirt. The Red Cross returns.

He recalls bastard pirate Randolph two (motel) doors down, not one to cross by any means.

4×4: it was all coming back to him.

He has to reach Climax.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0016, 0603, Gaston+

DEAD End Street

He wasn’t budging, this Big Black Smoke. “I have as much right to be here as you, red boy,” he declared from his cheap, green box seat. “You ain’t paying no rent.”  He settles back, crosses his arms behind his head. “Neither am I.”

Greg Ogden argued that he is about to pay the rent but is still trying the apartment out at times.

“Times what?” replies the larger, black man. “42?”

Greg didn’t know the answer to that. He didn’t know everything. He remained silent, contemplating whether to leave. But *he* had as much right to be here as Big Black Smoke.  This remained a stare down for now. He told him that.

“Hey,” then declared BBS. “You ain’t that red dude who’s going to marry that red haired gal in the church next door this coming Sunday? She’s been talking about you. About how you become cross sometimes.”

Greg said he wasn’t this person, although he likes to dress in red. Greg Ogden explains that he use to be a red mechanoid playing in a punk band with 2 other, differently colored mechanoids. “We got kicked out of Olde Lapara Towne due to a noise ordinance,” he furthered. “We came here to escape, to *hide* and regroup. But this place…”

“I know I know,” responded Big Black Smoke, looking around at all the red walls surrounding them. Like a cell. “This place changes you.” He was starting to feel sorry for the boy. “You know Golden Jim, the police chief? Don’t confuse him with Golden Joe. That’s a chef. You see what I mean about this town, boy? This New (Lapara) Towne? Same as the old town, hmph.”

Greg says he’s trying to leave but can’t. “Stewart’s dead,” he offered, nodding toward the window with the bay view. “Newton owns that ship out there now. That’s his brother.”

“I *know* who Newton is.” Big Black Smoke resisted the urge to call him ‘fool’, but he’s certainly trying to step off a ledge now. “You can’t leave once you stay here long enough.” Big Black Smoke had figured out who Greg Ogden was, and that this was his old apartment. Golden Jim had told him about the 2 Greg(g)s, one with the extra ‘g’, or, better (explained Golden Jim), the ‘g’ *stolen* from his last name. This theft bought him some jail time. Golden Jim wasn’t here then, but, again, this was legend. Like the day Pierre Schaeffer rode into town and stole all the Berries and took them off to La La Land. Even nimble Thimble couldn’t escape. Ahh, Thimble, thought Big Black Smoke, traveling back further in time to a thinner physique. Those were the days. The Dark Ages. I wish those old times could return. But Pierre changed all that. Him and the eye guy.

“This is *Jasper*, fool.” Big Black Smoke couldn’t help himself. “You’re stuck as much as those *flies* over in Central Park!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0016, 0602, Gaston+

blue red yellow DEAD

“So here it is all mapped out, Hucka. The murder. *The* Murder. The ‘crime scene’: here. This building. Upstairs I mean. Not downstairs — *here* here. Up there here.”

“The ‘murdered’ is Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer, yes,” speaks Hucka Doobie, trying to speed things along. Much to analyze and absorb tonight.

“Then next is the ‘motive’,” continues Baker Bloch in a line. “Peepee, the person –er, creature murdered in the first place. The start of a chain reaction.”

“Cool.” Hucka Doobie moves to the next line down. “Then the ‘#1 suspected’ — the murderer of *Rabbid*, is, um, Lu Ellen? Did I get that name right?”

“Lu Ellen Hutchinson, yes. Or maybe Hutchison without the (first) ‘n’. I’ll have to check.”

“But Lu Ellen (for the first name),” Hucka Doobie attempts to firmly establish.

“Yes.”

“Moving on, then, is ‘clue # 1’, which is provided by synchronicity investigator Alice L. Farrowheart. We also know now that this person sometimes goes by Lilly.”

“No, I never said that,” defends Baker Bloch. You must be confused, yes, with Alice Frame. Another Alice F. — perhaps interesting.”

“Okay, I’ll trust you with that,” offers up Hucka Doobie. “But this is from the Red Umbrella, specifically a Sam Parr collage from the Red Umbrella. Specifically specifically Sam Parr 04. This is a marriage. Who is getting married? Well…”

“Wheeler. Wheeler is getting married.” Baker Bloch is referring to information shared with Hucka Doobie earlier as they drank coffee at Spunky’s in Southside. Surprising news!

“The married woman — Wheeler or not — is then throwing a frog toward a green man who is removing his own head in ‘clue # 2’. This is the next collage in Sam Parr — Sam Parr 05, part 1 of a diptych.”

“Part 1 of 2, yes,” elaborates Baker Bloch (unnecessarily).

“So in summary — for now — the just married gal throws a frog at a man and turns him green and removes his head. This is her father Peepee, murdered by Bullfrog. But it is *also*…”

“Bullfrog,” completes Baker Bloch. I don’t think it can get any clearer than that.

“Nope. I agree. The rabbit is obviously the frog.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0016, 0601, Jeogeot, NWES Island

the state of Collagesity…

… is good. Healthy, even.  Mr. Babyface is back at Perch reading his voluminous newspapers at 15 till 3, thinking along these same lines while puffing on his oh-so-smooth Red Dragon tobacco. Night this time: PM. He has that freedom now the head is back where it belongs.

Yes, Perch is back in Carrcassonnee’s nogg’n, but she isn’t quite “fixed” yet per se. The Man About Time and others are working on it. A second one-eyed monster has been purchased on the marketplace as a potential translator, perhaps even — dare I? — a — no, can’t say it. Carrcassonnee rules! But: a little buddy, yes. Frank?

“Frank?” Nothing yet. The Man About Time will try again tomorrow.


The Man About Time playing Carl Nielsen’s “Commotio” for Frank and Carrcassonnee.

What about Wheeler, then, remembering that she took over control of Collagesity late 2016 in a political coupe which seemingly has been reversed with the at least partial reinstatement of Carrcassonnee, the deity she deposed?

She’s okay with it all. But decisions must be made about the Blue Feather. Is this still Wheeler’s “palace” or is it a place owned equally by all the Blue Feather club, which also includes Baker Bloch, Baker Blinker, Hucka Doobie, Karoz Blogger, and the rest of the core avatars? Not just Wheeler: all. Is this what’s happening?

Wheeler and Baker Bloch, the 2 owners of the land the town is situated upon, don’t know yet.


“We don’t know.”

But one thing for sure now is that Collagesity has returned. The town has a true center with the tower bearing its name, a default landmark for all those who enter from the outside.

“Hmph,” voiced visiting Alice Farrowheart from over at NWES (which we’ll return to very shortly). “I wanted to go to the Red Umbrella but instead I land here.” She turns. “Oh, I understand. This is the place where you get to *all* the galleries. Not just one: all.”

“And what about this museum?”

Yes, what about that museum, visiting Alice Farrowheart from over at NWES?

It’s a subject for another day.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0016, 0517, Collagesity Fordham-, Lower Austra, Nautilus

Belt

He was having a dream again of that planet. Totally red, totally rusty. He was looking for Stewart this time, but Stewart had passed on to another realm. The Land of the Living. Because, in the dream, *he* was instead dead, trying to make his way back from, shall we call this Hell? No, Greg Nash Ogden corrected himself while staring around. Too luminescent, he decided, to be that place of anguish and gnashing of teeth. But certainly red like that place. No fire, though. Better wander around while I have my wits.

He eventually stumbles upon the underground base, vast in size.

A robotic weapons factory, at least in part.

But no food. He realizes he might starve down here. To life?

He receives a name on a back wall. Mars.

Greg Ogden wakes up, his mouth dry as desert.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0016, 0516, Gaston+, MARS

skipperless skipper

He stares out at Stewart’s boat in the bay while calling.

“Hello, Stewart?” Indistinguishable answer. “Oh, cool. Stewart’s big brother. I remember you.” Answer. “Oh… sorry to hear that.” Answer. “Oh that’s too bad, oh man. When’s the…” Tangential answer, still indistinguishable. “Well, my deepmost condolences, Newton.” Final reply. “Goodbye. Let me know if I can help in any way.” He hangs up with this. “Guess I won’t be using *Newton’s* sim skipper out there tomorrow after all. Maybe never. Mr. Babyface is going to be *so* disappointed. I’ll have to find another way off this isle of isolation. Poor Stewart! Disappeared inside a watery sinkhole.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0016, 0515, Gaston+

Steamboat

Mr. Babyface looked down at the large palm tree The Man About Time was currently referring to. “The Hole is gone,” he had just said about the mysterious object formerly underneath it. “When Mick jumped in, the effect was gone. The great 2-n-1 was over.”

“Takes 2 to know, yeah,” Mr. Babyface says in response now, thinking he needs to phone up Greg Ogden as soon as possible. Or, on the other hand, Gregg Oden, if he’s in that form presently. He’d been romancing a living, breathing Mandela Effect for months and didn’t know it, didn’t know the term for it. The Man About Time is attempting to clear this up.

“Gaston has a lot to do with this,” then offered MAT in his mild voice while scratching the back of his neck on the couch. “Changes people, and sometimes not for the good.” He scratches more. “Sometimes… for the bad.”

“And that’s where Greg said he was going in that letter he wrote me,” completes Mr. Babyface while turning, more eager than ever to pick up the phone.

But which way to go, he thinks, receiver in hand just later. Does he go to Gaston or does Greg come here?

“I’ll come to you,” responds Greg Ogden at his red Gaston house. “They frown on mutanty looking people around here,” he said, referring to Mr. Babyface’s baby faced head.

“Well I *never*.” But he was coming back and that was the most important thing. He was pulling him out of *there*.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0016, 0514, Collagesity Fordham-, Gaston+, Lower Austra, Nautilus

return of the Dawg Pound?

“… nice view of Carrcassonnee’s new, blooming tree over at the Temple of TILE. I think this could be our new spot, Other Baker.” He woofed down another delicious piece of Raggedy Ann’s pizza with this. “This — um so good — this new pizza item is the *best*, Baker Blinker.” He takes yet another bite, and talks, still with his mouth pretty full. “Ginger, yum (*chomp*). Just a hint of ginger.”

“How about that table over there, though,” suggests similarly woofing Baker Blinker, not as convinced this was their new spot at Perch. “Better view.” She was at least polite enough to stop eating when she talked.

Baker Bloch glanced over after swallowing. “Too near the door to the place. You know I don’t like sitting in front of the door. *Everyone* can look out on us.” He returns to the pizza and the devouring of it. “Besides (*cut*), Mr. Babyface is over there right now (*bite*).”

“Mr. Babyface has *been* over there. What’s he doing with all those newspapers?”

Baker Blinker’s been glancing over here, thinks Mr. Babyface, paused in his reading. She may report me to the maitre de, gasp, who may tell the owner. Maybe even Perch himself, who sees *everything* anyway.

Oh wait, he suddenly realized, playfully fooling himself. Perch is back in (Carrcassonnee’s) head — not mounted up there above the door any more. Grease stain left behind covered up by a big clock. Oh well. Guess there’s no one around to monitor my voluminous newspaper reading today. Maybe I’ll order another cup of coffee around, say, 3:30-ish.

At 25 after 3, Mr. Babyface spots the odd conjunction that would influence the rest of his life. An ad for a football camp featuring Leroy Kelly, and just below, an ad originating from Steamboat Springs, Colorado.

Steamboat Kelly, he ruminates after reading one then the other. The famous running back who replaced (best running back ever) Jim Brown but also made a (smaller) name for himself. Sat on the bench and bided his time — good for him. Patience pays off.

Trouble was, there was never a *Steamboat* Kelly. Only Leroy — sans nickname. Mr. Babyface had entered an alternate universe where up could be down and Cleveland Browns players, former and present, could be manipulated by a higher power.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0016, 0513, Collagesity Fordham-, Lower Austra, MARS, Nautilus