Category Archives: 01

September 23, 2019 · 7:24 am

penthouse

“See? It’s all about Greenup, Mr. Babyface. This Floydada Lime it’s called.”

“All (sections) named after fruit?”

“That is correct my fine neighbor.” His voice was mild and youthful; his neighbor’s gruff and aged, countering the babyface appearance.

“Well… if you’re Pierre, as you say, then this town is in for a lot of turning upside down soon. Do you plan to bring back Carr?” Carr was short for Carrcassonnee, the former, alien ruler of Collagesity/7 Stones before the 2016 coup.

“It all depends,” he replies to the babyface man with the gruff, aged voice. “Tell me all about this Wheeler.”

—–

“Damn eyesore it is,” Mr. Babyface suddenly declared, pausing in his spiel about present town ruler Wheeler. “Look at that thing looming up in the air.” He indicated out the window at the boxy Edwardston Station Gallery, the skybox everyone in town is voting on whether to keep. We have two naysayers in the matter sitting here in Mr. Babyface’s lower floor of his Kidd Tower apartment. Mr. Babyface decided “no” the minute he set eyes on the cube; The Man About Time’s choice came a little later. And now he had “Floydada.”

—–

“There’s also a ‘Floydadada’, Mr. Babyface. That’s the one I want next — might even be in SoSo. When I find that I’ll tell the townspeople who I really am, and that I wasn’t killed atall in that giant Lake District gash known as Piers Gill. Instead: Gills Pier. Michigan. 2052.”

But Mr. Babyface knew all about the legend of Pierre Schaeffer. It had been taught in his schools since he was a babyfaced lad.

“Let me show you something, neighbor. *Confidant*.” He scrolls the page down just a bit. “This is me.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0016, 0106, Collagesity Fordham-, Lower Austra, Michigan, Nautilus

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September 23, 2019 · 6:05 am

lime lemon (orange) apple

It’s the first artwork he encountered when entering House Greenup. Lemons and limes again, staring him right in the face. And eyes… The Man About Time is reminded that a sim called Residentia exists beside the Humansville one he just examined today. Our Second Lyfe, which now includes the newest continent of Bellisaria with its Humansville, Residentia, and many more sims, is inhabited by Residents according to Linden definitions. *The* Residents are an experimental rock group who disguise their identity through giant eyeball masks. One wonders if Philip Rosedale, creator of Our Second Lyfe, had them in mind when applying this specific name to the inhabitants of his realm. After all, both hail from the streets of San Francisco. But I digress…

7 Stones townspeople have a decision to make soon. Whether to keep the separated groundside galleries of House Greenup, SoSo, and Gallery Jack holding the entire “Art 10×10” of 100 collages baker b. produced between 2004 and 2009, or whether to combine the 3 galleries into a skybox (literally in this case: a box in the sky) traditionally called the Edwardston Station Gallery, dating back to 2009 and the end of the series. The Man About Time has an important vote in the matter. He doesn’t take citizenship — *residency* — in the virtual village lightly. It’s an honor to be here, he says to town owners Baker Bloch and Baker Blinker the next Wednesday after the third Monday of the month, when he paid his first rent for a Kidd Tower apartment. Almost at the very top: how lucky was he? Only [delete name] lives above him and [delete name] is rarely at home. But, then again, the Man About Time is out and about a lot as well. Best to cast his vote today, before something else comes up in Bellisaria, etc., that demands his immediate attention, past present or future. Thus the visit to House Greenup today, and, afterwards, Gallery Jack, SoSo, and then up in the sky to see the whole displayed in ESG.

But in staring around at the other collages hanging in the lower floor of House Greenup after ungluing his eyes from the first (which is actually the last: Greenup 20 instead of Greenup 01, although they make an animation with each other and The Man About Time is not the first visitor to make this last-for-first mistake), he’s already made up his mind basically. This house should stay, which means, domino effect, that SoSo must stay which means that Gallery Jack must stay.

“Ahh. ‘Floydada’,” coos The Man About Time after walking around the stairs. “What I’ve been looking for.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0016, 0105, Bellisaria, Collagesity Fordham-, Humansville, Lower Austra, Nautilus

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September 22, 2019 · 6:44 pm

10th (Danny’s Abode)

Game over, already? Aww. And I was just starting to enjoy myself.

—–

I’ve got to get on it and start to clean up this place, thought handyman Danny Pajamy after the fact, Mr. Clean outside his humble abode but totally slack within. Bob Dobbs would be proud.

Keys jingle somewhere — perhaps on the video he left, um, running? Then they jingle *again*. Someone… someone at the door! he thinks in a panic, remembering what just happened.

Yeah, cleaning. That’s what he’s doing. Cleaning.

“Hellooo? Anybody home?”

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September 22, 2019 · 5:23 pm

to prove you’re human

The continent is a wheel, The Man About Time thinks on the upstairs balcony of the 9th house he tried. Success finally? But 12:37: *time* for dinner.

—–

So I’ve marked that place with the filling recipe. You *still* want the apple pie, don’t you dear? ‘Cause I’m going to a lot of trouble with this.” She calls over while still washing her hands. “Dear? (pause) *Dear??*”

“Oh, sorry.” He looks down at the place setting and the contents. Apparently I’ll just do with the one apple right now, he thinks to himself, but says: “Sure. Er, since you’ve gone to all the trouble to find the recipe and all.” He again stares over at the lemon and lime on the far table.

The lemon and lime stared back at him.

“Um, *dear*?”

“Yes, husband of mine?” She was washing the last fingers.

“Do we still have that copy of ‘Floydada’ laying around somewhere?”

“Floy-*whata*?” She finally turns. It was then that Newtonia Kashkow realized the man sitting at the table with all the apples wasn’t her husband atall.

—-

“And *stay* out!” SLAM.

Oh well. On to the 10th!

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September 22, 2019 · 10:27 am

Jim K.

“Aww *man*. And I was just getting use to the cackling…”

—-

“Humansville,” Baker Bloch spoke to the freshly landed Hucka Doobie beside him. “Must mean *something*.”

“Yeah,” said the bee person, staring around. “Should I take a seat? Will this take *long*?”

“No. Shouldn’t,” a mildly disappointed Baker Bloch responded, hoping to encounter more enthusiasm from his best and oldest friend. Besides Baker Blinker of course, who really doesn’t count.

“I’ll take one anyway,” Hucka Doobie stated, knowing Baker Bloch like she did. This might take a short time, but probably not short enough. Best to take it all in while reclining. “I wonder if there’s any objects offering drinks around here?” she then queries after sitting.

“Um. Unsure.”

They both scan the area now, with nothing that looks like a drink machine or dispenser around. “So… this is the new continent,” Hucka speaks after the pause, licking her lips at the same time. So dry.

“Yeah. Bellisaria.”

“Queer name. I wonder how they came up with it?”

“And sims like *Humansville*. On the opposite side of Polk County from Gold… *Tin*.”

“Tin Town, yeah. I see. Like the first post of… is this the new novel?”

“Suppose it has to be, Hucka D. *We’re* here. Talking.”

“Doesn’t have to be. We could just be chatting off the record, as it were. How do you determine what is a legitimate post and what is not? A metaphysical question, I know, but, after all, I’m the spiritual guru for the blog. I’ve been around a long time. Over a decade.”

“I know you have, Hucka Doobie. And I thank you for your service to the blog. It has been *invaluable*.”

“Thank you. Good to be appreciated.” She licks her lips again. “But I don’t think there’s anything *per se* in this Humansville. No Uncle Joe (laugh), no Aunt Zoe (chuckle).”

“When did you start laughing parenthetically, Hucka?”

A sound happened behind them. Keys jiggling. Someone was trying to open a door. “Who’s that?” she asks before turning.

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September 22, 2019 · 7:29 am

for my dopplegangers

“In looking back — in line with the Blackstar Event — I really, truly think at least an aspect of David Bowie entered Collagesity right after his death, stayed a spell, and then left after flirting with my female counterpart Baker Blinker.”

“I *know* who Baker Blinker is,” countered Merry Gouldbusk, softly playing a Bach piece currently as background music. One of the “Goldberg Variations” I might assume.

The male Baker, Baker Bloch, continued. “This would be January 2016, as told in the first Collagesity photo-novel.”

“Yes. ‘Blackstar’. Amazing album. I know of what you speak.”

“He also said he was there to read one specific book called ‘Blood Curdling Tells of the Rubi Woods’…

“….formerly ‘Blood Curdling Tales of the Rubi Woods’, ha…”

“… about the hauntings of an old forest bordering Collagesity immediately to the west. Through it he learned of a legendary creature called the Tinbaby. At the end of his stay, he used the power of the Tinbaby in the woods, which can somehow fold up space seemingly, to leave Collagesity and continue his journey through the afterlife. Also afterwards, the woods had to temporarily be erased — purified — because, I believe, Bowie had to become fully separated from the Tinbaby, which was also the same as Dr. Blood or the Ozian Tinman, who shows up next.”

“The woods had to be purified,” spoke wise Merry Gouldbusk, “because David Bowie had to move on, yes. Had to move on from Baker Blinker primarily. Because…”

“… that was Karoz’s girl. Destiny they were to be married. Right in the center of novel 1.”

“But… you go.”

“But the Tinbaby — it never hit me to associate this with a tin can.”

“Tin Machine,” Merry Gouldbusk finished, and then switched from Bach to a different metal after picking up a guitar. “Goodbye Mr. Ed.”

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July 20, 2019 · 8:16 am

bastard

“I wish they wouldn’t emphasize that rocket so much here. Makes me cold inside, brrr.”

“Well,” jested older Keith B. a bit. “It was a big deal in the days. Put Golden City on the map.”

“Put it *on* the map by taking it *off*, brrr. Nothing left but a big hole.” She glances sideways at The Man, who was scanning pictures on the wall at the back of the stage, focusing on one in particular. “Speaking of which… he needs to get back over here and finish his story.”

“True,” agreed Keith B. “He can’t just leave us hanging in mid air about that whale.”

“Hey!” Kate McCoy called over to The Man. “We gotta keep moving down the road, to the fork. Else…”

“I know,” The Man replied in his cool, bass voice while still studying, still looking. “All of this will be in vain. But I believe — this man — is wearing — lipstick.” He touches Jimmy’s gray lips with his finger, as if he could swipe them and then check for color.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0015, 0117, Golden Sink, Maebaleia/Satori

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July 20, 2019 · 7:29 am

knowledge

“The white whale escaped, of course. The famous Moby Prick of the Deep South. But the blue whale didn’t fare as well. Caught in the Blue Feather Sea. Some say she *became* the sea, one equals the other. Do you understand, older Keith B.?”

“Absolutely not, Kate McCoy.”

“Good to admit, thank you. The cube is the sphere is the sea is the whale.”

“Maybe we just better unfreeze or unthaw The Man and go. Let him explain it all. After all: he was there.”

“Indeed. Let’s go get him.” They enter the “aquarium”. Dog joined them there.

—–

“The cube is the sphere is the sea is the whale,” Kate McCoy pronounces clearly in the direction of The Man. He begins to stir inside his plastic cocoon.

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July 19, 2019 · 9:13 am

in the cave

“I was just there watching the red and green grasses wave back and forth with the fairy, thinking: love is the answer, but what is this question we all must ask?”

“Kind of going beyond John Lennon in that way.” Kevin C. (or was it E.?) expressed puzzlement. “Like in the ‘Mind Games’ song, the flip side of the better known ‘Meat City’, admittedly, but still fairly well known. Here, let me hum a few bars.” He proceeds to do so, then mouths the appropriate lyrics. “‘Love – is – the answer. And you know that – for sure.’ See, he never sings about the question.”

“So — are you going to let me stay? Knowing what you know?”

“That you’re not gay, yes. Alright. But we’ll have to put you in the Northeast Quadrant, behind the art gallery. The old Coutts residence. Old codger is more like it. Straight as a porcupine quill he was. I should know.”

But when Kevin A. (A. — that was it) arrived at his new home in the Northeast Quadrant of Regaltown, someone was already there. Not old but young. Space Ghost, with all his powers returned. Ability to turn invisible. Er, ability to do this and that and the other stuff. Not pointing out imaginary green squirrels with his cane any longer. Kevin A. would have a male roommate after all. And wife Grammy was no longer around, since this was the past. Her vortex powers made sure of that.

Young Space Ghost takes one look at Kevin A., then says, “No gays in this quadrant. Who sent you? Arnold? Tell Arnold he can go to hell. Or back to Sweetgrass, where he came from. Americans.” Young Space Ghost spat on the ground with this.

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July 18, 2019 · 8:52 am

recovered

Iggy Stooge stares into the central sim of Blue Junkyards from the edge of his parents’ property. Is this really where he wants to settle down now that he’s been rejected by Baker B. for the current novel? This backwater place? He had dreams of city life in Regaltown, in Horns of Hatton even, the capital crown jewel of Maebaleia’s South. Not the Deep South: that was instead Cassandra City, but of similar size. He could have been police chief, fire chief, even mayor if Baker B. so chose.

But this bayou? He’s not a flatlander at heart and he knows it. There was one other option: return to Pipersville, where time is more fluid. Not as much as Golden Sink (hence the reasons for the auditions there), but still — the bomb and all. Another sinkhole (like Golden Sink).

He rezzes in his repaired TV head once more to ponder the possibilities…

… and then eventually heads back home. Or his parents’ home actually.

If only they weren’t so infatuated with those darn butterflies.

—–

“What color breakfast do you want tomorrow, dear?”

“Blue, green, whatever,” Iggy Stooge replied unenthusiastically, thinking of Pipersville instead.

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