Category Archives: 03

June 4, 2018 · 7:54 am

mum 02

After the physical (dinner) grilling the next day, Ragdoll planned to start in on the verbal grilling while they sat on the porch and let their bodies digest all that heavy meat they’d just consumed. Beef and chicken and fish all! For they had expected Indigo and her new beau to show up, the same dad burn Justice that Alma had just gotten rid of. Ragdoll thinks her sister may be doing this just to irk everyone around her! But Justice complained that he still couldn’t sit in a regular chair for more than 30 minutes at a time, and they ended up having dinner in bed over at their own trailer in Tinseltown. More food for them, however, and Ragdoll had overeaten due to nerves. Yet she instilled zen calm within while sitting in her lawn chair pretending to doze, and was seemingly good to go after about 10 minutes.

“Daddy?” she began.

Angus Nuffin roused himself from an actual nap. “Yes, pumpkin?”

“Do we have, um… any pie left in the fridge?”

—–

Ragdoll just couldn’t do it; couldn’t get herself to talk about the conversation she overheard last night. Or mainly overheard, for there was still the wall that muffled some of it. She loved her daddy so much and didn’t want to hurt his feelings, and knew he’d tell Indigo and her when the time was right. But she was planning as well: she’d just herself started dating Tin Tin, a cousin of Justice actually (and how they met), but considerably smarter and nicer. She’d miss that relationship. But maybe something else as good or better would come up in this Collagesity they were heading to. Not far over the hill, Bill had said last night. Just a hop and a skip, as she put it — just beyond the wall.

While her daddy began dozing again, Ragdoll quietly got out of her chair and walked around the side of the trailer, “show property lines” toggled on.

The Diagonal, she thinks, staring at the northwest corner of the Obscure sim. So close yet so far. And in Rubi it would be a little further still, according to Bill. But the woods amplified — those were her exact words, she recalls. Ragdoll returns to her lawn chair, pondering what it could mean.

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June 4, 2018 · 6:57 am

mum 01

He was staring at the test pattern on the television, wishing MTV was on this late at night, when the soft knocks came at the door. He checked the clock on the wall to his left: 2:01 am on the nose. Heart beating harder, he knew this could only be one person given the precise timing. Ragdoll and Indigo had both gone to bed around 11, he reckoned; most likely fast asleep. Because he knew what the conversation would be about and there was no need for his daughters to be involved right now.

Even then, with only this brief prompt, Angus Nuffin started making assessments of his property, started planning how to get from this place to another place. For The Diagonal here had been losing energy for a considerable amount of time now. There was hardly anyone over at Lollygagger Lane these days for instance, although in its heyday it was one hopping place. Like a perpetual bunny hop, and he inwardly laughed at his joke. Because this meant the person at the door had also visited the psychiatrist over there already. She would not remember the contents of their meeting until later, maybe not until after the move, he speculated. He might even have to be in disguise for a while wherever they ended up.

The soft knocks repeated. Better not keep *our queen* waiting any longer. He made himself get up off the couch and answer the door.

“I think you’ve been expecting me?”

Angus immediately spotted the large red ring on the strange woman’s hand. “Yes, mum. Please come in.” He waved her over to the most comfortable chair in the trailer.

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June 3, 2018 · 10:12 am

left out

Why did the graphic artist we hired — this Hazel or Mid Hazel or sumtin — turn Fisher Island into New Island, Jay Woodhull thinks later while enjoying his nightcap spliff and staring at Wednesday’s edition of the “New Island Gazette”. He looks at the inside curve of his left metal hand, spilling some pot ashes on the blurb below. “But they got the palms left, um, wrong — three instead of four, hmm.” The palms began to smolder, and Jay gathers enough sense to snuff them out with his other hand.

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June 3, 2018 · 8:23 am

The Point of Barnaby Point

“The 3rd, Baker Bloch. Er, Pitch Darkly. Maybe you should just *turn into* Pitch Darkly since you seem to like the character so much. Right Mary?”

“It might be nice,” Mary said from behind them. She then hunches over further so she can see the Wisconsin map with the proximate New Island and Fisher Island better. “Do you think this will convince this Leeman or Leemon? There’s Sunset Beach in the lower right corner (after all).”

“His childhood home,” Bill finishes. “Well, it’s obvious something is going on in this and that other Wisconsin location at least.”

“Outagamie County,” Pitch Darkly adds. “Leeman there as well, mirroring the Leemon in Missouri. Only other one.”

“Right,” reinforces Bill. “You getting all this Mary?”

“I… think. Where’s the Wisconsin Leeman? Do we have a map of it as well?”

“Of course,” declares Bill, returning to the Oracle home page and looking up ‘Leemo’. Only 1 direct hit: Leemon Missouri, but with a lone variant of Leeman. Which leads us to the only other Leeman, in Wisconsin. She clicks the appropriate link and adjusts the map.

“Just a placemarker,” continues Bill. “But perhaps an effective one. Subtle but effective. It’s in his home county, you see. The new one.”

“Oh.” Mary scratches her head. “So Fisher Island is right next to New Island in Beaver Dam Lake, Wisconsin…”

“The two biggest islands of 22 in that lake,” Pitch tacks on. “And that’s the only New Island in America besides the one in the big swamp in Georgia. (Which) probably doesn’t count.”

“Fisher Island is a blog invention,” continues Mary, slightly irritated at her train of thought being interrupted. But she gets over it quickly — fascinating subject for her. “New Island is also a blog invention but… connects to Leeman or Leemon’s New Island through Barnaby Point. Barnaby Point exists in both.”

“Correct, Mary,” replies Pitch, proud of his studious spouse. For he had married Mary on March 25th of this year in the Cult of Oo’d Church, the only place of worship in town at the time. One could say they were still in their newlywed phase. With all the attached highs and lows, of course. Tough dealing with New Life situations; but they were managing. Now that Pitch was out of the thick of his Russian phase. Still… the statue… “Art gallery laden Barnaby with its Barnaby Point in *his* New Island also being near the Sunset Beach of *his* New Island,” Pitch states. “Couple of miles apart.”

“Artist Point,” utters the freelancing Mary. “‘Artist Point Interactive’… that’s the *Hazel meeting*. Mentioned in Pot Head’s and Sheriff’s new business blurb in the ‘New Island Gazette’ *Our* ‘New Island Gazette’.”

“They are no longer Sheriff and Pot Head in this blog,” corrects Bill. “They are Marty and Jay or Jay and Marty — take your pick. They are too stoned at any one point — get it? point — to care which of their names comes first, I would venture.” Bill was known for her bad puns, but at least she has a bit of a sense of humor now. Unlike olden times when she first came to power in Collagesity. She’s softened. “I’m tired,” she suddenly declares. “This meeting is over. Go back to your Darkly Manor and think of things to discuss in *our* next meeting. Which is tomorrow. And I expect *you two*” — she turns and points to the two 4 handed librarians sitting around The Table — “to contribute as well. And not just ‘carrot’… and ‘glasses.’ Something substantial and with meat that we can lay out on the table and feast upon. Beef or chicken. Or at least fish. Can you do that for me, hmm?”

The librarians stare at each other, knowing they can’t.

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June 3, 2018 · 7:18 am

Tale of Two

“What you writing there b-b-boss?” asks Marty Claflin, formerly known as Pot Head.

“Oh just some ideas about our business,” replies Jay Woodhull, formerly Sheriff. The Sheriff. But his law upholding days are over for now.

“M-Mabel coming back tonight?”

“Oh, I doubt it. She has to sing at the Cult of Oo’d in Collagesity tomorrow. She told me she’d most likely be staying over there tonight to save prep time in the morning.”

“G-g-good.”

Jay puts down his pen and stares at Marty. “Why’d your studder come back? Hey, look over there… out the bay windows,” he says suddenly while pointing. “Someone’s coming.”

Marty’s heart began racing. “W-w-where?”

While Marty’s head was turned, Jay took the opportunity to knock the crap out of it with his metallic left hand. “OW!” he yelled, but with no studder. Jay’s quick remedy had worked.

“Thanks,” Marty managed after a moment of rubbing. “I think.”

“No problem, Marty.” He began writing on his notepad again. “Now about that business plan…”

—–

Meanwhile in Mabel’s duplicate (and original) Scarlet Creative Sylvia House in Collagesity, she sits on her DaD Design knitted pouf freebie and stares out the front window into the woods, trying to spot Unch, an old game. It’s good to be home, she thinks while continuing to peer and squint. Too bad I can’t stay.

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March 29, 2018 · 6:25 am

next

“A move!” Magus Ellen exclaims upon teleporting into Iris and seeing his opponent’s Knight to King’s Bishop 4. “She’s just moving to move, but that’s okay.” He takes a thick lick. “This should be another easy one for me. Time for a castle.”

—–

“Holey moley Pencil. What is *that*?”

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March 28, 2018 · 6:23 am

post-perfection

“So you see Campbell O’Pine. Here at the edge of Misacs, for instance, we also have the beginning of the end of Our Second Lyfe. That gain in elevation over there in, let’s see (Sidechick checks his inworld map), Bushchat, is more than just that. It gives us perspective upon the basically flat 8×8 of the themed house regions preceding it, The Perfection. With the essentially endless repetition of these houses beyond, the Linden peoples are drilling in the message that Our Second Life is not the be all end all of virtual reality. More is around the bend. And that’s where the Corrigan statues come into play, especially the Queen’s. Are you ready?”

“Sure.”

“Let me go find her and then I’ll teleport you over.”

“All right.”

—–

It takes a little bit for Sidechick Corea to come across the Corrigan Queen. He first stumbles upon the multicolored iris eyes originally noted by core avatar Baker Bloch over 8 years ago.

He then spots the Queen behind him. “I’ll just teleport Campbell over now so that he can walk with me toward her.”

—–

“It’s fascinating, Campbell. The body of the Queen lies in Pixy but her arm and the blueish orb she holds extends over into Corrigan. But we call her the Corrigan Queen because of all the other stuff in that sim, like the eyes you just saw.”

“And then the flat Queen. Is that the proper way to put it?”

“Good enough. But I want you to think about that blue orb almost direct above your head. In fact, let’s just fly up there to take a closer look.”

—–

“Remarkable, Campbell O’Pine. Ellen is right. I think this orb *has* to be you in some form.”

—–


The Corrigan “Flat Queen”.

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March 27, 2018 · 7:03 am

topmost 02

Mabel’s primary goal today remained the mission, however, and speaking with Precious Snowflake who she knows is the same as Baker Blinker. On her way, she stops to take a good look at that tanker. “Yes, this might do very well for subject matter,” she says.

She walks into the fire within but remains unharmed.

Onward to the mission…

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March 27, 2018 · 6:24 am

topmost

As mentioned, Mabel and Buurb loved the 3rd floor of their potential house. A type of heaven for them, I suppose. Buurb could write and Mabel could do art. Their respective passions, besides each other of course. Or this is how they fulfill themselves through each other.

We start at the northernmost window (of 3) looking west…

… then pan out to take in a nearby chest with a smaller container, perhaps a suitcase, on top of it.

This is in the room at the top of the ladder heading up from the 2nd floor. Then below we also peek into the next room. Both contain a variety of what could be called refuge or junk, but the married couple still love the stuff and dare not throw any of it away once the house transaction is complete. Whenever that is.

Mabel often wonders who this melted girl in the portrait is. Could it be her as a child, somehow? At any rate, looking at it always reminds her of her beloved twin brother Little Big for some reason, still off fighting in the Green and White War in some distant part of the galaxy. Last she heard: Aldebaran.

More of the second room; that would be Buurb’s writing desk in the distance, which would double as a place for them to have brunch, tea, etc.

And then we have Mabel herself sitting in the 3rd room. This is projected to be her art studio where she’ll rekindle her love of painting (and drawing). But what to paint remains a big question.

Maybe that perpetually burning fuel tanker down at the gas station seen through the south window here, hmm.

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March 26, 2018 · 9:25 am

meeting 02

After the meeting, Bill realized she had only a limited time left to save the Heterocera continent as a whole, perhaps Our Second Lyfe itself. She paused to take a look at the moth temple through vintage binoculars on the pier outside the Mermaid Lounge just exited.

How to paint this thing and capture the true essence? she ponders again. 3-n-1. Mabel, Annie, herself. All painters trying to capture essences. All linked together, of course, in their failure to accomplish the deed so far. She thinks this, deep down, through her core avatar. Wheeler.

Unnoticed so far, a somewhat drunk Roger Pine Ridge observes Bill from the side of the lounge. Cyberpaperdoll has abandoned me here in this *swamp*, he reflects bitterly. I must talk to *someone* about it.

He debates whether to approach her. Decisions have always been hard for him.

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