Category Archives: 0618

lost 02

“Okay, don’t tell me Bird Brain,” he requested to his apparent friend at the main drag. “Okay, *there’s* the main door, the Yang and the Yin. I, er, have just erupted from the Flea Market which is my home. My *work* home — ahem, I do not *live* underwater, see, heh heh. I am not a fish myself, har.”

“Yeah, tell it to the bartender,” and Bird Brain walked away with this for a moment, avoiding the old man’s ramblings per usual. “Tell it to the bartender,” was local slang meaning, “go talk to someone else about your problems that gives a sh-t.” Or something along those lines.

“So we’re lost.” Parasol was thinking she could do better than this by herself. Perhaps the old man is senile. How would someone with even a slight case of dementia cope in this maze of a town. They couldn’t!

The fish butcher licks his index finger, then holds it in the air, as if testing the wind. The same finger then points toward where they just came from. “*That* way,” he exclaimed confidently, and began to walk. Parasol obviously didn’t follow. And, actually, he didn’t expect her to. The butcher knew the flea market and his included underwater work spot well enough. That was his world. On a regular basis, he would come out and ask Bird Brain (limited to his own world around this particular leaning pole) directions to this or that place. It was a routine they shared. And always the closer: “Go tell it to the bartender.”

The butcher indeed lived in the flea market. He existed underwater. And, by this point, was probably a fish himself. But he likes to forget this every once in a while and come up for air (but not for long).

Parasol was on her own again.

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granted 05

“Vein and Artery Boy is a pet nickname. His real name is…”

“Wait,” implored Allen Y. to speaking Rock. “Lemme guess: Hitchcock.”

Rock Ramby and “Vein and Artery Boy” share a sly smile.

“No?” Allen Y. kept pushing. “Am I wrong?”

—–

“Did I ever tell you how Rock got his name?” VA Boy boomed a little later on. The Hitchcock appellation hadn’t been resolved.

“No. Not in the 15 minutes we’ve ever been talking to each other.”

“You haven’t been here before?” VA Boy looked over at Rock with this, who just shook his head back. “This isn’t… *Hitchcock*?”

—–

“*Anyway*, back to the dog.”

“Oooh. *This* story.” Rock settled back in his seat and crossed his hands behind his head. He seemed to be preparing himself for a long one; VA Boy was about as chatty as Rock, and almost as conceited, it appeared. But — strangely to Allen Y. — they *complemented* each other, as if Allen Y. understood now how each formed the way they did. In some couples it is done by balancing weaknesses with strengths. In this case, it was *accenting* those. They’d been so boastful to each other down through the years now, apparently, that it had become a kind of refined game or ritual. And now, Allen Y. sensed, they were stuck in these patterns, unable to really converse successfully to anyone else. It was an odd realization. But — he understood — there was a deeper mystery to it still which everything pivoted around. Hitchcock. A *game*, yes. He would soon learn the surface name for that game. And it wasn’t Hitchcock.

—–

Exactly where Santa Sven disappeared as a point in the sky, another came. Was this Hitchcock? We’ll see!

END OF “COLLAGESITY 2019 EARLY”!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0618, MISTY MO^^

granted 04

Rock Ramby sure knows about trees and plants, thought Allen Y., listening in for the second hour now as the muscular dude babbled on. “The redwoods are a hybrid clone,” he was currently saying. “I got dwarves as well. I created all and everything on this sim,” he reinforced again. “Horses too.”

“Tricksy?” Allen ventured while scratching his chin, testing the water.

“That a horse name?” he came back. “Doesn’t sound like one.”

“Yeah, that’s the one I mentioned meeting on the way over here. All the way back at the first of our, er, conversation.” A long, long way back, he thought to himself. And he hasn’t mentioned this mysterious Hitchcock in a long time either.

“Mirabel,” corrected Rock. “A transer, yeah. Tricksy could have been it.”

“That’s what she said,” Allen held firm. Blasted know-it-all. In truth, Allen Y. had become weary of the chatter about 20 minutes in. He’d heard enough blowhards back on his home planet of Elven.

Just then, what appeared to be jingle bells sounded outside the cabin, breaking the banter. “Cool,” Rock Ramby then beamed. “Sven’s back. Runs a packing industry over in Meat City Misty Mountain, you know. Let’s take a look.” Rock springs up from the chair on his powerful legs and moves toward the front door. He draws his knife just in case. Less spry Allen Y. stands and follows; peers through the opening behind him.

“More veins and arteries for your boy, Rock,” called Sven merrily, landing just behind the circular train track. He threw a bowed package in his direction, which Rock deftly caught, knife still in hand. “Schweet,” he yelped. “Thanks Santa!”

“Sven, please. Merry, um, Something!” he shouted as his jingling reindeer lifted him and his heavily packed sleigh back into the sky. “Merry Something to All!”

Shuffling behind Allen Y. as he watched the sleigh recede. He turned. “I heard my name,” issued a Zeus-like voice.

Where the hell have *you* been hiding,” the yellow alien thought.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0618, MISTY MO^^

End

But Ruby (Fantasie) had already left the Borderlands and entered Rosehaven proper with the true coming of spring. She has emerged from between the tigers’ tails which are actually Tiger Tail. This was the true meaning of Eraserhead Man’s vision of the Tigrett in Vineyard Cafe, for they are one and the same, tiger tales both now.

The Borderlands Oracle, the *Mother*, is currently stuck on the figure of Morgaine, an ambivalent character from Arthurian legend who can take on both negative and positive roles. Red and blue if you will. Surrounded by 12 rounded rocks, this border also signals the end of our yarn or weaving, or as far as we can take it currently. Our 12th Collagesity novel.

Borderlands has greenly homogenized with Rosehaven as a whole. There’s no need for a tale now within. We are done with it. Same with Fruity Islands, End of Time, The Waste. All put away in the creative closet, perhaps pulled out later for further play.

The Brachiosaurus which doubles as a sea monster here seems to be telling Baker B(loch) goodbye.

But what of Mssr. Gold and wife April Mae Flowers of Snowlands? Herbert Gold will keep dreaming of these lands for certain — he is stuck as well. April Mae will keep seeing the gardener Steve on the side and visiting her ex’s grave over on the Omega continent. The mysterious Bauerbridge dune will remain an obstacle in her way.

Despite the end of perhaps a cycle of Collagesity novels, Collagesity itself also goes onward, up and away and beyond the effects of any storyline. For this is home. The anchor. From here I can enter any world I dare to penetrate with a certain style of wizardry: Stonethwaite, Tugaske, Avebury. All the “satellite” realms. But one has to have a center to return to.

So I, Baker B., Baker Blinker and Baker Bloch both, will say goodbye to you my loyal reader while sitting at home sipping on my Starbucks 4 shot latte and enjoying the relative warmth of an early spring night.

END OF “COLLAGESITY 2018-2019 WINTER”!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0618, Mountain Lake^, Rosehaven^^, Rubi^