Category Archives: Paperville+

January 20, 2026 · 10:30 pm

00490211

We’ll return to the theme of all encompassing, all absorbing toilets soon, but first we must introduce yet another location into this here photo-novel 49 blog story, and, yes, I can hear the reader groan and/or sigh here from the weariness of keeping track of them, ha. Place called Heartsdale which is no stranger to the photo-novels as a whole, having already appeared in (as I’m checking), 03, 08, 13, 19, 23, and especially 20 of the run. 20 is also where Paperville has been most prominently featured, but that might be what we could call an “accident”. Let’s say that for now. Anyhoot, Heartsdale seems pertinent because of this Missouri based motel within the 1 sim urban area named “Mad Misery” due to a sign malfunction. Actual name before the breaking: Madry Wise. Scene of not one but several tragedies according to the attached story.


from photo-novel 20

1-2-3-4-5 the rooms are numbered along a north-south line within the sim…

… just like with the Wilson City-Wyatt fused town seen in section 01 of the current photo-novel also found in Missouri. Pretty sure they’re, let’s call it, synchromystically connected. Another TILE.

But let’s start in the “beyond the game” 6th room where we can secretly peer into at least the 5th. Wilson. (TBC)

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January 20, 2026 · 2:03 pm

00490210 (all encompassing toilet (Schrodinger’s Man too?))

That’s it, she thinks. I’m going in to check on him, single room bathroom or not, this so-called water closet of the Paperback Pixels Cafe of the town of Paperville alternately called Pageville. I’ve tried at the “door” once. Curtain… whatever. Said he’d be only a minute and that he only needed to do a number 1. 15 minutes to drink a 4 shot latte and then 20 minutes to pee it back out? Didn’t make sense. One more time with the call.

“Rodentius? You all right in there? I — I’m starting to get worried. I’m… coming in. On the count of three — get ready! One….. two…..” TBC?

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January 20, 2026 · 12:01 am

00490209 (“curse purse”)

Peter walks through the tunnel leading to the temple named Penn and changes into his 5 year older brother who is the same age as him in the process. Another queer dream!

Numerous pens scattered on the floor within, along with a couple of pencils inserted here and there to reinforce the theme. Just what Peter Tron needs so that his good egg good friend Bardie can properly express his feelings and not have to inadequately speak about them. Penn produces pen! Marvelous. Goal found.

He’s about to pick up a couple of ’em to bring back when he spots a phantom version of the painting he’s been working on so long and hard recently above a step ladder to his left colored the same as the cyan energy lines in his futuristic bodysuit and also “frisbee”. He knows this is leading him further and that his journey into the temple is not done with the writing utensils.

… down a side passage…

… brushing past narrowing walls…

… into Center.

He changes once more into an even older brother who’s the same age and gets back to work running the place he remembers he’s the black king of, this Paperville and attached Weird-o Islands. True endpoint for him.

Tron Axis checks his watch not on his arm. 10 years have passed, period. Close enough to make it stick. He inks up the antique blue jay feather pen in front of him to continue even further down this rabbit hole of a place.

Bathroom, he thinks while putting quill to parchment. Bathroom is next. Water closet.

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January 19, 2026 · 7:10 pm

00490208

“We love you, baker b.!

“And we want you to come home too!”

“Not for a while, Mother, Father.” And so we, I, continue… The last of my kind.

Besides, these aren’t really my shared little world parents. I saw the unequal love since almost the beginning, one in the air, the other not.

Rock beats Paper because it possesses Scissors, a depravity of what was suppose to be a round and round and round, fair deal situation.

And with the examination and usage of this sculpture menagerie replacing my original one coming from Newbank/Newbrooke, I think I might be done with the Bellisaria series of continents as a whole for a while, however which way you spell it. Other places to examine. Like Paperville.

—–

Peter Oesso, clothes back on and red rose dreams finally ended, sits at a table drinking espresso to match the returned t-shirt, waiting on…

She remembered.

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January 14, 2026 · 11:48 pm

00490202

I intended to paint abstract today but this muff fascinated me and I had to return to it. The textures, the color, the lighting. I was starting to get the swing of things. Abstraction tomorrow, then. I promise (to myself).

“Yo, brother of mine,” he called from the window, sneaking up on me as he often does when I’m painting, when I’m absorbed in the creative work. His friend Bardie came along this time. I like Bardie. Good with words, he is; helps me with my artist’s statements and artwork descriptions. Good egg.

“Yes, hello brother of *mine*. Welcome. I see you’ve helped yourself to the espresso machine through the window.” Does this all the time. Sometimes I wonder if he secretly has elastic arms. Queer thought to match a queer brother (but not in that way).

“Right right. Couldn’t wait.”

“How about you, Bardie?” As good as Bardie is with writing words, he’s bad with saying them. Really bad. He kept silent at first, as was his style. “Good,” he finally managed after about 10 seconds.

“You’re good as in you’re okay without coffee, orr, good as in you’d like a cup of coffee? Choose oh wise one.” But he just nodded, keeping the situation ambiguous. I decided to give him one just in case. He can let it sit there if he doesn’t want it.

“Tell you what, Bardie, this one’s on the house.” And I laid the cup I just poured down in front of his expressionless face. Ahh… paper, I think while staring at it. Next time I’ll put a piece of paper in front of him with a pen to derive needed answers. I wonder why I hadn’t thought of that approach before.

This led me to Paperville and dwelling on the old days (TBC).

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August 15, 2020 · 8:19 am

Abbey 02

“I was wondering if you’ve seen a little boy. About yea high?” Walter Pillsbury then sticks his hand behind his head in a nervous reaction, pretending to scratch his neck. There was something on it that he wasn’t suppose to reveal. The hand must remain hidden and out of focus as best as possible.

“No, I’m afraid not sir. Like I tell everyone with such an inquiry, you’ll have to talk to the king.” That’ll put them off, Tipsy the barista thinks without saying. Because the king is much too busy to deal with such a trivial matter. Little did she know.

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August 15, 2020 · 7:15 am

po(u)ring

“Umbrella, huh?” muttered private dick Wendell “Biff” Carter after he’d finally found the correct place to read in his red book. Read book? Anyway, maybe it’s just the correct *place*… to read his book. Paperville. In a coffee and pastry shop with some suspicious design parallels with the recently opened Bake’s Bakery over in Teepot. He can read it here; he can read it there. Hmm (again). Better get over for a shot of those “Umbrella dunces.” *This* is where Dunce Boy aka D Boy aka DeBoy (etc.) went after his hat transformation and acquiring that tracking red tie from either the Pot-D or Pan-Z tracking gang. Probably the latter, unless it is the former. Jeffrie Phillips would know. If we could find him. He’s disappeared too. Another suspicious design parallel.

To that tell-tale Paperville sculpture:

Compare:

The Boy is here!

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June 29, 2020 · 7:47 am

shoes

“Beautiful place isn’t it?” spoke the biker to his side. Hmm: Biker. “You won’t find a better place.”

“I don’t expect to,” returned Barry X. Vampire, knowing he was being kicked out by the head honcho. “Get your own sphere,” he said on our tour of the underwater gallery, seeing many of the iterations of Paperville in the past. “Collagesity can be as important as Paperville,” he then furthered. “You think about that upon your return.

Barry X. Vampire later contemplated the two were a balance, one focused internally and the other outside of itself, as in the great outdoors. They are kind of backwards from each other in this respect.

In this moment, the train outta here should be arriving any minute. Poetry had to run over to the apartment to retrieve a final thing, she said, but met Hucka Doobie sitting at Peter Oesso’s old spot on the way back. “Don’t — I know you?” she wanted to ask while glancing over, but didn’t have the time. She just passed and nodded.

Hucka had done her work. She would be remembered later on.

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June 29, 2020 · 6:09 am

1921

“I wanted to show you this underwater gallery, Barry, to demonstrate that Paperville has gone through many changes, some resulting in the disappearance of the village altogether, at least for a while. The important thing is that the concept carries on. And this same thing should happen to Collagesity. I’m sorry. I cannot allow you to stay. You of course can take Poetry back with you. You have to find her sister for one thing. Please keep up; we’re nearing the end of this section of our journey.”

—–

“You can look and you can look but you won’t find your sister in these series of pictures, Poetry. Axis, the New God of Paperville after all, said she hasn’t been here in a while — ran off with a fellow named Biker several years back now. Went to a place on the mainland called Iris, like an eye. And she was searching for an ‘I’. It went missing in a jumble of tiles numbering 25 down from 26. Now we are on a similar journey, Axis states. A search for center.”


missing “I”

“But we’re *in* the center (sim),” a disappointed, sad Poetry countered Barry, still peering at the people, still searching. That *could* be her in the far back with the white robe, she thinks, eyes squinting in an attempt to focus. Axis, although a New Near God, might not know *everything*. There’s always the 5 percent chance out of 10 that marks it down to 9.5. He has a Diamond of a mind now thanks to Cat-Witch, a true return of David A.B. to his perch at the center of it all. To him…

“Margret,” he prompts, interrupting her reverie and saying her real name for the 1st time in a while. She knows she must pull out of the past…

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June 28, 2020 · 7:03 am

New God

“Paperville. It’s certainly an interesting concept, Hucka. And I might have met Zappa here. It’s like he just strolled by when I was walking my cow around like a Monkee. Said my music was too white, and I indicated my body, which is very white indeed. Well, cream colored. Skin colored — see there how racist I am Hucka Doobie? I think of skin as white, cream, but there’s all hues. Red, yellow, green —

“Not yet,” Hucka Doobie replied about the last. “Mabel is a forerunner.”

“Of course.”

“But to the Pen Temple. It’s actually Penntemple.”

“So I see. Like Paperville is almost Paperville but not quite. And then there’s Pageville somehow, er, laid atop Paperville. Like, well, a transparent, um, page or something.”

“Fifty-six. Look into fifty-six.”


Peter walks through the tunnel leading to the temple and changes into a former form in the process.


Pens within. And some pencils.


A secret door, leading to…


Home. Director’s seat. Axis Original, Authentic.


Now to get back to work.

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