Category Archives: Urqhart^

transformed

Celebrations for Carrcassonnee’s 420th birthday will continue throughout the month I’m assuming. Happy Birthday Oh Great Green One!

Just later we found out that Carrcassonnee herself decided to become the sign, just to switch it out for a while. Her various olive limbs were separated out and tightened or rolled up a bit to become arranged as the numbers — 6 prims both, then. Only the 7th, her *eye*, remains within the Temple of TILE. Until the end of the month that is. Or thereabouts. Everything seems to be “or thereabouts” in this here Urqhart location for Collagesity (or thereabouts).

We must move on from Carrcassonnee for a while until her various limbs are taken back apart, loosened or rolled out a bit, and rearranged into the shape we are all familiar with and placed in the Temple at its regular 3rd floor spot beside Frank. We forget to mention Frank in the last blog entry! Perhaps he will even take over as town deity during Carrcassonnee’s brief absence in this post.

Frank and The Eye.

Frank and The Eye? Just temporary if so. Right Frank? Frank?

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demon

The Olive, some called this oval encasement surrounding Carrcassonnee’s lone eye for obvious reasons. A pickle of a concept, because a handful, an *important* handful mind you, considered the encasement to be more meaningful than the eye and said that it should itself become solid. Another handful, larger but less important, stated that the eye and the encasement are equal, and that a balance of solid and transparent is required. Then the 3rd group, largest of all but with lesser voice in power indeed, said to remove the corrupting encapsulation, discard it into The River to float out to The Sea for possible purification but way away from the deity itself. These are The Clears, wishing The Olive never existed.

And then there’s the problem that Carrcassonnee’s eye doesn’t quite fit into The Olive, and a piece of it tends to bulge out from certain angles. This allows The Eye to be manipulated independently from The Olive, which started all this division in the first place. “See?” cried the second, larger group to the first. “Carrcassonnee *wishes* for The Eye to be independent of The Olive.” “We can *shrink* The Eye, just a bit more, so that it will fit inside The Olive and be gone,” returned the first. “Oh, we are *not* allowed to do *that*,” shrieked the third from their weaker but more voluminous corner. “Grow The Eye beyond The Olive. Or, better, throw (The Olive) away! Into The River, into The Ocean.” And so it goes.

Carrcassonnee has some ideas of her own about the heated debate between the 3 groups. “Make me mobile,” she wants to cry out from her fixed position. “Allow *me* to go out and get a *better* eye, a *better* olive to encapsulate it. Then we’ll see what’s what and who’s not.”

She wants the ability to READ her A B C’s and 1 2 3’s correctly.

—–

The analysis is finished. The Nun and The Monk relay their information to The Man About Time, who then concocts an Action Plan. Carrcassonnee must be exercised! But he misunderstood what Brother Joseph and Sister Mary actually said.

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fixers

“I feel this is a sinful religion, Sister Mary. God is not colors (!).”

“Not sinful,” replies the perhaps wiser Mary to Brother Joseph. “Simple,” she decides, and looks up toward the minor God that is Carrcassonnee, wondering if they can truly reactivate her today.

She can just see the naked eye, and wonders what happened to the 7th.

—–

The Man About Time was playing one of Schubert’s late piano works when they arrived on the second floor. They were asked in turn to stare at tv static and play with a sand castle before approaching the minor deity still one level up.

—–

“Do your magic,” The Man About Time requested and then stepped aside.

“The 7th is back,” whispered Mary over to Joseph. They knew it was a sign.

“Hellllll-ooooo?”

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labyrinth at the Temple of TILE

It was an interesting color pattern and one she would end up studying for many years to come.

Now if I could only get the deity upstairs to speak something sensible. “I” just doesn’t cut it.

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Self

I must focus on the cottage that is and isn’t there, thought Golden/Rhiannon in her Goddess Garden. A one eyed deity also exists in the town over there with the tower. I know that the tower is both intact and fallen, and that the 2 town owners are both married and not married. Strange, she ruminated. Like one is absent as well.

I must speak to the deity. If I can.

—-

“What – is – your – name?”

“Iiiiiiiiii.”

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Multicolor

“A new town has arisen beyond the revolving tire, Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child. We must attempt to match its energy!”

“Sounds *great*!” the chipper hippie girl said, eyeing the namesake tower from her vantage point while following Rhiannon to the table with the magic cards. But she said to call her Golden.

—–

“Tsk tsk tsk. Oh dear. We better hurry.”

“Oh I feel *awful* again, Rhiannon.” Golden let the name slip go, given what just happened.

“Let’s start with a single.” She turned the just dealt card up.

—–

She sat in the middle of 4 and realized this was matching the energy.

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review; grounding

“I’m starting to really believe it would have worked either way, Hucka Doobie. Whether I stayed in Fordham on that high, arid Nautilus ridge or moved to Urqhart or thereabouts on the Corsica continent for a little more space and greener pastures — wouldn’t have mattered. *Both* choices are factored into the continuation of Our Second Lyfe, as especially chronicled through the photo-novels. Either way, we are still away from the sacred Rubi Woods and the heart that started it all. I had the perfect place, Hucka Doobie.”

“Not perfect,” responded the bee-friend who Baker Bloch befriended over 12 long years ago. A lifetime! “You didn’t have a regular 8192 bordering the woods. You *had* to move (to accommodate the 8192 Corsica Prime map). But I agree that either choice would have been okay. We’re more toward the end of these things than the beginning.” She stared at me with large, understanding eyes. I wondered who she was, deep down. And whether *we* would continue. “Good to think about this stuff now,” she reinforced across the way.

“Well,” he sighed and looked out across the landscape from their Perch perch. “Let’s take inventory.”

“Okay.” Hucka Doobie took another sip of tea laced with something a bit stronger in preparation.

“Mabel’s House. Is Mabel still around? I’ve been asking that for what seems like years now. And maybe they have.”

“She can be,” Hucka Doobie responded simply enough.

“What’s it doing up on that knoll, for example? That’s different (from Fordham).”

“Fork in the road,” Hucka Doobie said. “Choices made. A marker to mark the occasion by.”

“Hmm.” Baker Bloch scouted around for another object in the vicinity. “Barry X. Vampire’s house at the end of one of the two paths leading out of Collagesity in that direction. I suppose that’s an easy one. He’s kind of *writing* the current novels, Hucka. That’s his writing headquarters. Staring out at that rotating tire to write compose ‘The Revolving Wheel’ or something.”

“We can *go* to these locations anytime you want to to get more of the story. And there *is* a story here.”

“All right let’s take Boos, then.”

(to be continued?)

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Heartsdale 04

She stands at a crossroads outside the motel. David A.B. and Linda Halsey are still talking in the lighted patio outside the lobby. They would be doing this as long as the motel itself existed, she realized. She stares toward the mysteriously highlighted red-blue-green gate to the east (sky-sea-land). She’s *been* here before, she realizes while studying it and almost being hit by a right turning, beat up station wagon with Illinois license plates in the process. BDR529. Not quite all the numbers but getting there.

“Where there are churches there must be liquor stores,” she remarks confidently while walking between two. She goes in a direction no Yoko has ever gone before, messing with the patterns.

—–

“So this is what you do all the time, Baker B.?” asked observing Marty at Collagesity’s Blue Feather Table Room.

“Pretty much,” admitted the male baker version to the famous composer/musician variant.

“W-where is she going? She’s just heading off in a random direction.”

“Not random,” spoke Baker Bloch. “Hopefully.”

“What is this place?” Marty further queried.

“Heartsdale. It’s in title.” Baker looked over, confident in his randomness. “She’s been here before,” he added. “Or *I* have.”

“And this has — something to do with John.”

“Absolutely,” I crowed. “Bakersworks,” I said to end.

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Corsican Collagesity 03

“I wanted to bring you here, Hucka Doobie, to show you where John and I use to meet to go to our various hangouts. Before he became — well, you know now.”

“Solid lime green,” responded Hucka, recalling the meeting. “Lemon”.

“Yeah, the whole *blurring* of the n’s. Like we can’t see properly. And we *can’t*. John is lost to me. But *here*. We could go back…”

“To go back is to die, Marty,” the resident Sunklands blog spirit offered to this.

“Yeah. I suppose.” Marty looked around. “Smells so fresh here after a pouring rain. This is where I also became the Fireman. In short: I want to help.” He stared straight at Hucka Doobie here.

“The Table.”

“Yes!”

—–

“I suppose it makes sense,” replied Baker Bloch later to Hucka Doobie sitting at the same. “He *does* live here after all. He’s just a skip and a beat away. Lemon can’t come, though.”

“Oh no,” states Hucka Doobie. “He has a, well, he has a hole in the middle that can’t be filled. Property of a *witch*.”

“Now Hucka, you know we can’t say that here.”

“*We* — just did.”

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Corsican Collagesity 02

For their second “date”, Marty took Hucka Doobie to a remote coffee shop in the sky on a parcel bordering his own over in eastern Urqhart. “Bring your mac,” he warned. “It’s always pouring rain there.”

—–

“It really is raining quite hard here,” spoke Hucka Doobie, staring out.

On his part, Marty wasn’t looking at the rain.

—–

“I think he likes me (!),” she exclaimed later to Baker Bloch back at the Perch restaurant in Collagesity one sim over.

“Oh, come on, Hucka,” said one of her two oldest friends in this world, along with female counterpart Baker Blinker. They go back over a decade now. “You know he’s probably still married to Linda Halsey. And he lusts after that Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child. And he’s had an affair with Audrey, even after causing the death of her husband Jeffrie Phillips before deciding to resurrect him at her urging. In other words: he plays the fields.”

“Strawberry Fields,” responds the wise bee person. “Lemon is back as well (!). I get to meet him on our next, er, get together.”

“Still afraid to commit to calling it a date, I see.”

Hucka Doobie knew Marty and herself didn’t have a real future as a couple. She was just trying to get under Baker Bloch’s skin, see how he felt about the whole situation. I guess it seems to be working? she queried herself while staring into his cold, dead eyes, looking for signs of life.

—–

“Well?” asks Hucka Doobie after an hour. “Where is he, Marty? You said he’d meet us at Perch.” Marty still wasn’t paying attention, staring down from Hucka’s eyes. “Oh I don’t know. Probably picking up more eggs for Yoko or something.”

Lemon’s foot enters the door…

… shortly followed by his body. “Hell-o hell-o hell-o”.

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