Category Archives: 0618

September 28, 2022 · 1:43 am

00340703

“Who is it baby doll?”

“It’s the *agency*.”

“Well, keep trying to smile.”

“Hello?” she says. “Yeah, this is him, well, his proxy.” She winks at actor Lemont Sanford, currently unemployed but not caring. They’d made so much on the dog.

A pause as she listens to the other party. Then: “Back? Kill van Kull? I’ll tell him.”

Lemont Sanford, best known for his role as Arthur Kill back there, picks up that there’s no one else on the line. This was all a sham. “You’re *synthesized* part is all lined up,” she said, putting away the phone — somewhere. He couldn’t help note the purple again.

10 days later they were back on the set in Middletown getting married to a new wedding theme, someone name Bodenheimer I believe. 10 weeks later the character played by the actress divorced the SOB. But not before something happened, something very important to the future of this blog and attached photo-novels.

In a word: Liz.

END OF “SUNKLANDS PHOTO-NOVEL 34”

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January 27, 2020 · 7:49 am

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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November 27, 2019 · 8:22 am

42 02 (Climax)

They thought they were out of time but more was made of it.

END OF “COLLAGESITY 2019 EVEN LATER”!

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May 6, 2019 · 7:52 am

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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March 3, 2019 · 8:10 am

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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December 20, 2018 · 7:45 am

pause 06

“I see we’re wearing matching trackers.”

Duncan looked down. “The Pot-D pendant?” Yes, it was red and hanging around his neck as well. He hadn’t thought about it before.

“Except mine’s from Pan-Z, the other, newer organization that does those kind of things. More thoroughly, if you ask me. Much more.” Jeffrie Phillips was wondering how the *heck* Duncan was going beyond the mirror book via improvisation. He stared through him to the 3 trackers he knew dwelt within, one by one by one.

Then: “I of course know you’re in there… *girls*.” But Phillips knew not who he was dealing with (Ragdoll titters here). These were battle tested *women*, fighting for the core of Pot-D which they understood to be ultimate truth.

“We know about the treasure,” they admitted (Indigo). “We know about Big Baby Jane” (Ruby). “We know about *Audrey*” (Ragdoll). “Audrey,” she repeated through Duncan’s lips. He gestured toward the black and white, zig-zag patterned chairs they sat in. He pointed out the “teapot” between them. He indicated an owl decorating a fluttering national flag he rezzed out of his inventory, bought at the Snowlands infohub just before teleporting over here.

“‘The owls are not what they seem,’ I know.” Jeffrie paused. “So you’re just *handwriting* this in. To make, I don’t know, a more satisfying ending?”

“Yes,” they admitted as a collective.

“Is it working?”

—–

“*Is* it working, Ruby?” asked Indigo to her left, sensing the fatigue. “We can’t go on much longer. The 12th (novel) awaits!”

“We *have* to continue onward,” implores young Ragdoll to Ruby’s right. “Duncan knows who Jeffrie Phillips is, and that the treasure guarded day and night by Big Baby Jane is a, um, red herring, a duplicate of the one near the Snowy Peak. Another decoy.”

“Can we compare the 2 treasures again, just to make sure?” Ruby knew they could. “Hold on,” she says. “We’re almost done!”

Yes. The same. “Well, that does it, I think,” Ruby then says, finally lifting pencil from paper. She shuts the book. “The treasure cannot be found here.” She puts it back on the shelf at the end of graphic novels journals 1 through 10.

But they weren’t quite yet finished.

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December 20, 2018 · 6:11 am

pause 05

They all took turns looking through Duncan’s eyes. Disappointment! At least for Ragdoll. Indigo remained intrigued about the whole situation. Hand weary Ruby just wanted to wrap it all up somehow. A good night’s rest she’ll get tonight!

The peculiarly remote infohub was quite devoid of objects and activity. No coffee shop. No restaurant. Just 3 austere, alpine style houses. And the combination of their user’s Second Lyfe Moon and its own Moon (“Moon of the Moon”) from Collagesity novel 1 that Ragdoll especially anticipated? Turns out to be “merely” 6 conjoined sims located out in the Great Linden Ocean a bit west of the old mainland continents Sansara, Heterocera, and Jeogeot.

Indigo finally found a landmark in the information poor location. They teleported over to one of the two official villages of the 6 sims. Not Teepot, but the other one. Twin cities they were. This was their first hint, beginning with Indigo, that they were looking at some kind of resonance with St. Croix, Virgin Islands. Duncan was now there, after all.

Jeffrie Phillips was waiting for them at the infohub on the other side. All 3 took turns being escorted by him up a quite lovely mountainside to Teepot proper and his sake bar hangout we’ve already seen him at with sometimes mate Audrey. In truth, Jeffrie was trying to sell Duncan the idea of staying. But on the walk, Duncan knew his world was already breaking down here. He must get back to Linden land, the ones looking out of his eyes realized. And soon!

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July 25, 2018 · 6:55 am

ending 04

They were destined to become best of friends.

“So how did you get *here*?” Indigo asked.

“I don’t know. I suppose I died,” Ruby answered matter-of-factly. “Pain links the two dimensions, New Island over there, and then Collagesity and Heterocera as a whole here. It’s happened before. But I don’t think it’s going to happen again. Once you go through that door you don’t come back. I was standing too close to Ground Zero to survive. I may have *been* Ground Zero for all I know.”

“Zero is my sister.”

“Ahh,” Ruby exclaimed, light bulb turning on over her head as she shifted her weight against the knitted ottoman. “That might explain it, yeah.” Ruby thinks back to what she saw around the corner of the doctor’s ice cream truck. Bound Shirley Boot. But then, at the same time, Ragdoll. Back and forth. Flickering, even. Just before… or maybe it was just *after*, confusingly. Time messed up.

“Maybe everyone on the island survived in their own way,” theorizes Indigo. “Just in their own, other dimensions. Mabel can come back and forth as well, after all. Here, and then there.”

“Maybe not any more,” the now eternally 15 1/2 year old answered. “I think she might be trapped over there. I’m pretty sure of it actually. Which means…”

“No Battle for Collagesity between Mabel and Bill coming up.” Indigo blew out a puff of air. “Well… *that’s* a relief anyway. I saw enough of war growing up in South Bennington. Blacks vs. Blues. Greens vs. Grays. Any color you like or could guess would wage battle against another given half a chance. The Multicolors saw to that.”

“Who are they?”

“The ones that stand above the fray and cause it.” Indigo halted her thinking in that direction, a long honed practice. Enough was enough: back to Ruby and the situation at hand. But, just then, she spotted the wolf and pointed out the window. “Look. A hound of some sort.”

Ruby saw it too, emerging from the dark void of the woods. As it continued to approach, the girls realized it was blue. It barked but the yelping seemed to say something. They couldn’t quite make it out yet.

“Did you hear it too?” asked Indigo to her new friend.

“Yes. Something like: ‘The Friend’.”

Indigo was sure that wasn’t it. “Dare we go out and speak to it directly?”

Ruby shrugged, indicating: what’s going to harm me *now* after what I’ve been through.

—–

“Oh what a *beautiful* dog… wolf. Just what I needed to cheer me up! How are you boy? Girl?”

It yelped, repeating what it “said” before.

“Okay, that was clearer,” Indigo declared. “‘The End.'”

“Or is it…” Ruby opined, “just…”

The wolf howled, reinforcing the finality.

“No. It’s ‘The End’.”

END OF “COLLAGESITY 2018 MIDDLE”!

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July 24, 2018 · 8:11 am

ending 03

So Ragdoll showed her sister Indigo the bank in question. Over in Tiretta, not 1000 meters from their trailer, she explained. “You see, if a bank like this began at the bottom of a sim — 0/0, say — and extended in a diagonal to the top of the sim — 256/256 — the whole Diagonal within the sim would become the master number. The point becomes a line. That’s the despair part: no single, pointilistic master number. Instead: the bank; the line.”

“Slow down, slow down,” offers Indigo. “I’ve seen the pictures you’re referring to.

From the Archive.

And how it seems to resonate in that set of collages over in — where was it?”


Archive again.

“Um, I can’t remember the name of the sim. But it’s very near the Kerchal Woods.”

“Which could have another, smaller diagonal attached to it — just as a sidenote. But, if this Greenup series is so important, why isn’t it in Collagesity presently? Why did we have to go all the way over to the Sansara continent?”

“Our joint users are working on that. I suppose you heard—”

“Yes,” answered Indigo, guessing what her sister was going to say. “The house on The Diagonal where they were creating the new New Island story has been derezzed. Another magic typewriter — poof.” Indigo threw up her hands as if releasing a puff of smoke.

“Just like with New Island and the Troll Cave there.” Ragdoll then pointed to the ground. “But this is what father showed me and added to it. The name of the property, Indigo: Drongallia. Which contains the word Diagonal, along with an extra ‘r’. The Gods can’t be *too* obvious with these things. Need to leave some mysteries.”

Indigo saw the name too in the ‘About Land’ description. “Yes.” She had quickly calculated the odds of this happening by chance. ‘Astronomical’ came the answer.

She sat down on a green mushroom in a cluster of 5. Ragdoll joined her.

“49/50 for me, sister.”

“50/50 for me.” Ragdoll then admitted something to her sister. “I’m starting to get those urges, a bleed-through from the other side. My *new* self.”

“Right. Father warned me about that. Well…” Indigo deliberated where to begin with that talk, but decided now was not the time. Instead: just some encouragement. “Treat the flea itch first. Then you can work on that other itch.”

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July 24, 2018 · 7:38 am

ending 02

They changed back to their normal forms before hitting the hay. Angus never slept as Sid, and he didn’t want to set a bad example for Ragdoll. This was their *primary* form. The New Island alternate should be just that.

—–

Ragdoll pondered later on in bed: He didn’t even ask me what part of The Diagonal I was thinking of. Poor father! He should go on a vacation after this. And he can! Now that he no longer works for the Perch restaurant as a chef. Bill came all the way out here to apologize for the firing, as we knew she would. She wants to round up as many townspeople as she can in her corner before Mabel’s return — ‘nother queen; War of the Queens. But the dehypnotizing or unhypnotizing or “waking up” didn’t proceed as planned. We assumed that we could just *talk* about that night and the memories would flood back. That’s what happened before with Frank and Alma.

Her thoughts turned back to that particular spot on The Diagonal as she turned in bed, trying really hard this time to get some sleep. “Hucka Doobie’s Bank of Despair,” she mumbled aloud. “That could do the trick.”

—–

The next morning:

“Hucka Doobie’s Bank of *What*?”

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