Category Archives: Rubi

S. is for Soldier

Old Mabel had pulled in a suave chair from the patio of the Perch restaurant next door to become friendlier with Tin S. Man, who turned out to be a fount of knowledge once you got him to open up (heart exposed).

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“All those Lower Minoans were celebrating the chopping of what they thought was the forest’s last tree,” he continued, “a brown cypress which now stands proudly again right beside Unch. They were gathered in the center of Lucky at sunset, hooting and hollering and carrying on, when the suddenly descended 200th whopped down terror from the skies with his thick, deadly cluster of limbs and leaves. Everyone dead, like ants under heel. Whop, whop, whop!” he emphasized, holding his axe high, blade outward.

“Fascinating,” said Old Mabel, carefully watching the axe. “When did you yourself arrive in the forest?”

Tin S. Man lowered his weapon again. “After the East-West Agreement. This opened up Our Second Lyfe to the world where I am from.”

“Oz,” spoke Old Mabel.

“Yes,” agreed Tin S. Man. “I was an experienced tree chopper there — my original name is even Nick Chopper.” He sighed. “But it was all because of the love of a Munchkin maid that I met my sad fate. An arm there, a leg here, then finally my head, my heart. All gone. Nicked away by my formerly trusted axe, enchanted by the jealous, evil witch who was her ward. I was fully tin when the Intense Shower came upon me unexpectantly that one summer afternoon while I was chopping away in the deep woods, freezing me up for perhaps all time. Then finally, after a long long wait, another maiden arrived: Dorothy of Kansas, along with her friend Scarecrow and, later, the Cowardly Lion. They became my friends. My Intense Friends. They oiled me back to life. My heart pumped blood again. I became Dr. Blood.”

“But how did you get *here*?” Old Mabel repeated.

“When the Reverse World came, I chopped in reverse. Kcaw, kcaw, kcaw,” he attempted. “Reverse chopping sound there,” he said, and smiled. “I used this new found talent to restore the Rubi Woods. It was a very satisfying chore. I liked it much better than the opposite, or removing parts of the woods. I believe a word for this satisfaction is karma. But it was strange nonetheless. Have you ever walked in reverse, talked in reverse? You may know what I’m talking about, then.”

“I *think* I understand,” said Old Mabel. She thought back to Little and herself writing backwards to hide their actual intent to Winfield, like when they sneaked out of the Dawg Pound to explored the forbidden Sandusty camp one weekend. Boy did they get in trouble.

“I learned of the 200th — Unch — the day I reverse chopped the 199th back to life,” Tin S. Man went on. “That brown cypress,” he clarified. “I knew there were 200 trees instead of 199 then because Collagesity had returned, as emphasized by my new and good friend Homer S. Simpson. S. — like me. His S. doesn’t stand for Soldier, though.”

Old Mabel tried to keep the metal giant focused. “Did Dorothy send you to the Rubi Woods?”

“Ozma,” he corrected. “The queen ruler. But Dorothy, of course, agreed to the task. They are in agreement about almost everything. Except one time…” He cut himself off there, reversing direction. “No, I better not. I respect both of them so much. We all have our differences.” But his heart had suddenly lost some warmth.”

“Another pointed question, then, Tin S. Man — Dr. Blood now. Are you Ray Davies?”

“Yes,” he answered quickly. No hesitation like in former times. “I am also the 11th beyond the 10. ‘Dark Side of the Rainbow’ is ten, like me (tin). Dorothy then finds me in the woods; brings me back to life, along with her friends, now my friends. I am Dr. Blood.”

“Thanks for telling me this.”

“You’re welcome, young maiden. I salute you.” He stands and salutes.

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Dreams

Old Mabel had that dream last night again about being the “conductor” of a tiny, rain soaked village in a one tree forest.

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The tree was having the same dream at the same time.

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Both end with the tree smashing the village to bits.

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The real forest.

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Jiffy friendship

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Old Mabel took a break from studying about The Beetles upstairs at The Table to hang with Jiff again. “Did you know John Lemon hated the sound of his own voice and asked his producer to smother it with ketchup?” she asked at one point.

“No I didn’t know that,” Jiff replied in his high pitched, wavering voice from the vase he put in place yesterday. “My turn in the chair again.”

“Why don’t we just sit together.” She was feeling more comfortable around him all the time. Peculiar: she doesn’t usually take to people like this. But there was something familiar about Jiff the Minoan, who could be both man or woman by the way, depending on the week.

“Alright,” he agreed, and joined Old Mabel in the blue retro seat. “Ahh,” he exclaimed as his little body sank back into the upholstery.

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“There. That’s better,” said Old Mabel. “Best we both sit in this comfy chair, eh?” The proximity seemed familiar again — what was it about Jiff? Certainly not a physical attraction.

Seeming to pick up on Old Mabel’s thinking, Jiff said in a playful manner: “You couldn’t possibly fall for another refuge half your size?” His eyes gained a devious twinkle.

“No. I’m already taken, if not exactly in the present. Baker Bloch is my friend in the here and now but soon to be more, I feel. We will eventually become man and wife. I sense this. I *see* this.”

“Oh,” Jiff simply said back, expression changed.

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“Here, let me brush your hair again,” Old Mabel then spoke, trying to smooth over the awkward moment. “Such beautiful hair. You say this is a traditional Minoan style? Tell me about your people again — if it’s not too painful.”

“It’s like I said before,” he started, quickly getting over the disappointment and remembering who he *really* was. Deep inside. “The portal opened up and we came through. Demos, I mean, *demons* were already there. Holiday demons mainly. Satan Santa and Snowmanster. Cookie the Crumbler. Mean dudes. But we outnumbered them, by a great margin. More and more of us poured through. Eventually a truce was made — Unch the Walky Tree wrote up the contract. The line between Rubi and Minoa was drawn.”

“What happened to the Rubi demons?” Old Mabel then asked. But Jiff was looking at the Blue Feather’s front door, mouth agape.

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“What’s wrong?” She stared with Jiff toward the door.

“Nothing. Just thought I saw something pass by. Couldn’t be, though.”

“Who or what do you think it was?”

“Hold on,” he said and walked to the door, then peered down Old Cannon Road toward the woods. Just as he suspected.

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He crossed the line again.

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Table Meeting 01

The next day gave us the first official or at least semi-official meeting of The Table. Present were Wheeler, Baker Bloch, Tin S. Man or Dr. Blood, The Librarian, Curled Paper, Hucka Doobie, and then Old Mabel subbing in for a sick Salad Bar Jack. More was wrong with the famous Mmmmmm than he let on, however. Baker Bloch also seemed to stand in for Karoz Blogger, although no mention was made of that during the gathering.

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Wheeler called the meeting to order at 7pm sharp. Following clockwise introductions ’round The Table, eyes turned to Baker Bloch, who attempted to give a brief and to-the-point review of their joint user baker b.’s audiovisual synchronicity “3 Friends of Belleville.”

“It’s much like ‘Dark Side of the Rainbow’,” he started, to which Wheeler quickly injected that they would look at that most famous of audiovisual synchs directly afterwards. “On the audio side, it’s simply the first 3 songs or tracks of Gentle Giant’s 1972 concept album ‘3 Friends’, unaltered in respect to playing time and order but with small breaks between filled in by other music. This would be several of the Erik Satie pieces most of us listened to last night (‘Sports and Divertissements’).”

“Is this 1972 BL or AL?” asked Old Mabel, who had studied all night in preparation for the gathering and was eager to make a strong showing.

“Neither,” answered Baker Bloch. “Remember we’re dealing with the Real World and its Real Time now. So this is 1972 A*D*, which stands for ‘After Death’, that is, after the death of our lord and savior Jesus Christ.”

“Never heard of him,” said Wheeler, trying to move the meeting on. “Old Mabel — and the rest — please refrain from asking questions until Baker finishes his report. Continue Baker… so I know these 3 tracks or songs from this Friendly Giant group are overlaid atop the movie ‘3 Friends.'”

“No,” corrected Baker. “The *Gentle* Giant *album* is named ‘3 Friends.’ The overlapped movie is ‘The Triplets of Belleville,’ an animation released several decades afterwards. A decade being 10 solar years,” he immediately tacked on, seeing more confused faces. Old Mabel wanted to ask about the relationship between these 3 friends on the audio side and the triplets on the visual side but held her tongue.

“The Satie pieces from (‘Sports and Divertissments’) also come in a particular order in the synch, but not 1-2-3, like the Gentle Giant tracks. Instead the pattern is 8-14-2, which, if you’ll notice, forms a *triangle* — another 3 or triplet — of numbers 6 apart.”

“These are the shocks,” injected Wheeler again, breaking her own stated request.

“Yes, I suppose so,” answers Baker.

“Which we’ll also talk about in ‘Dark Side of the Rainbow’. So I think that’s a good segue from one to the other. Anything else Baker Bloch?”

“I suppose not.” He straightened the numerous sheets of his report on The Table and placed them back in his black attache case.

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“666, eh,” then states Wheeler reflectively as she searches for the appropriate Youtube video on the meeting screen. “Again.”

—–

Exactly 4 minutes after the start of “Dark Side of the Rainbow”, a sepia toned Dorothy in the 1939 classic “The Wizard of Oz” fell off a pigpen fence while talking to farmhand Zeke about courage, timed exactly with the end of the first track off Pink Floyd’s seminal “Dark Side of the Moon” album (“Speak to Me/ Breathe”).

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“This is not just *a* fall but *The Fall*, Baker Bloch explained afterwards, pausing the video here. “This is where true synchronicity kicks in. We are now witnessing something different; not from around here but from elsewhere.”

“Satan?” offers Wheeler.

“Biblically speaking,” answers Baker Bloch. “But this is resolved, it appears, in a later synch called ‘Quadrospirited’ and the beginning of (not TIDE but) TILE. Another song exactly 4 minutes long is involved. A song called ‘Four Minutes’ itself by a member of Pink Floyd again.”

“Oh dear, I need to run,” says Wheeler out of the blue, looking at the clock on the wall. “Nautilus seas and Doreena and Yvonne and such. Baker Bloch, if you would, please wrap up the meeting and then gather everyone downstairs to meet Jiff the Minoan, fresh from the woods. He’ll take over from here. Ta ta once more!”

She vanishes. Baker Bloch looks around The Table at the others, seeing a mixture of confusion and boredom. “Should we continue?” he offers.

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“Nah,” states a yawning Hucka Doobie. “Let’s go meet this Jiff creature and get it over with.”

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Not what they were expecting.

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Listening (But Not Watching)

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—–

1/2 hour later…

“I admit I fell a bit asleep about 1/2way in, Baker Bloch. But it was good. It was interesting. Pieces about nothing. Not sports obviously. A clever man. Insane probably as well. Velvet suits, pheh. It’s a shame we can’t watch “3 Friends of Belleville” in Our Second Lyfe here, Baker Bloch. Darn shame. Lucky users.”

What they couldn’t watch there:

https://www.dropbox.com/s/3bkmfjfyjb0hz1f/VTS_01_1.VOB?dl=0

https://www.dropbox.com/s/tkw35zact4ilrvv/VTS_01_2.VOB?dl=0

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January 8, 2017 · 10:49 am

Octopus

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“I have a minute, Baker Bloch, to speak with you. The Librarian told me about your curiosity. Do you even know who *I* am Baker?”

“First off, I wish you wouldn’t show up as my mother.”

“Not the point,” Wheeler returned.

“Alright,” Baker then said with an exhale. “You are David Bowie, also known to this blog as Bogota. Or at least that’s what he — you I suppose — wanted to be called at the time. How’s that for a start?”

“A good start,” she says. “A perfect start. I am David Bowie. I am the leader on all collages to come. And by collages there I mean audiovisual collages. Not these [silly] 2d-ers [polluting] your town.”

“Now that’s not very nice, er, Wheeler,” said Baker Bloch back. “I thought you liked my collages.”

“I like the ideas behind the collages. The collages themselves are not what I call art. You use protected images[ to begin].”

“Well, that’s what I’ve chosen to do. You chose to show up here as my mother, I chose to use illegal images in my art and deem them educational and non-commercial. The ideas *are* the important thing, not the surface quality or even quantity.”

“So we agree,” she says. “Your art is trash.”

“I guess it’s trash in the sense that it is bits and pieces of discarded stuff by others lumped together to make something new and hopefully interesting, idea-wise.”

“Cool enough,” she then said, putting finger to lip. “Curled Paper, you’ve been your usual silent self. What’s your opinion of this town, the art in the town? Do you think it’s trash as well? Or do you think it is worth saving in and of itself? Or do you have an opinion at all? If you’re going to sit at The Table…” But Wheeler then bit her sarcastic tongue just in time to save some grace. Curled Paper still didn’t speak. Perhaps he was already insulted?

The Librarian chipped in some thoughts. “We need to speak of the album “3 Friends”. And the attached synchronicities. They are called synchronicities instead of collages, no?”

“Yes,” Baker Bloch answered.

“Please do,” added Wheeler with some sarcasm.

“Can I say their names on this blog? I know Hucka Doobie listed them out the other day. I was here.”

“Were you?” Baker Bloch truly couldn’t remember.

“Yes,” answers The Librarian. “So… can I?” He turns to Wheeler now and repeats the question. “Can I?”

Wheeler opens her eyes wide and looks toward Baker. “It’s up to us now.”

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Another Blue Feather Octopus.

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Giant for a Day.

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“And now you have complete balance,” The Librarian said to me minutes later. “Collagesity is finished in its limits. But at what price Baker Bloch? 3 Friends?

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“I was aware of the subject matter,” I admitted. “And your mask. I knew I would return here…”

“… to find out more about me,” he finished. “Well. Let’s start.”

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3 Friends

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Home o’ Fibs returns (yet again) to Collagesity.

I now lease another small plot from the Markland rental group run by K9Mark, my landlord for about the past year and a half who I met for the first time inworld yesterday. This is the 624 parcel formerly owned by creative friend Art Oluja (for probably the past half year), which now becomes the westernmost part of Collagesity. And will most likely remain that way, as I’m probably through with recent expansions of the town. Now all I have to do is sell Baker Blinker’s 3856 on the other side of Robin Lane and its limits might be set.

I’ll miss Art as a neighbor, who I also met for the first time yesterday during the successful 3-way transaction. Below are a couple photos of some trapped bird creature living in her house on the plot before the sale to K9Mark. Then the last photo depicts a resonant collage I chose to exhibit for mutual friend Pearl Grey’s Jan./Feb. showing at her Wanderlust Bench Art Park titled “Bullrocks”, the 8th in my 2014 Falmouth series. I’ll have to remember to ask Art about the story of her own creature-trapped-in-a-giant-mason-jar sometime. And she also told me in a recent im that she’s won another LEA grant for the coming year. Congrats Art! I can’t wait to see the cool stuff you come up with for certain.

And while I’m on the subject of creative Second Life friends, long time Collagesity supporter Veyot (also friends with Art and Pearl) has started a very interesting fictional series set in a floating motel over at the Corsica continent. Check out the introductory post on her tumblr site “Veyot’s View” here.

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Bird creature.

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Inside the jar.

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More Art Oluja creations on her former Minoa 624.

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“Bullrocks” at Pearl Grey’s Wanderlust Bench Art Park.

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New Carr.

Since Baker Blinker owned Collagesity North, she felt it was her responsibility to first attempt to make contact with the younger Carrcassonnee on the newly rezzed Temple of TILE’s top floor. Carrcassonnee was certainly aware of her presence last week, but could not or chose not to speak that day.

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Yesterday she tried again. After a long pause, Carrcassonnee managed a “sit down” using a somewhat higher than normal but still quite bass voice. With chills, Baker Blinker looked around for a seat. She saw several. She chose one closer to Carrcassonnee.

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“How’s this?” she asked the staring olive entity. Carrcassonnee is alive! she thought.

Another long pause. “That’s fine,” she managed again.

“Okay, Carrcassonnee, I’m going to go ahead and ask some questions of you.” Carrcassonnee didn’t respond, but Baker assumed she was a go for this.

“I’m gathering that you are a younger version of Carrcassonnee, coming from, perhaps 2012 or 2013, maybe from VWX Town over in Rubi next door.”

No answer. Baker Blinker continued.

“I assume you are different. You don’t seem to speak as much. Maybe–” Baker Blinker thought of stating that this Carrcassonnee was perhaps less cartoony than her more recent iteration, but decided against it. “Let’s just leave it that you are different. And move on to other questions.”

Baker Blinker waited a long time now. “Okay,” is what Carrcassoneee said after about a 3 minute pause.

“Are you having trouble processing what I’m saying to you?”

Baker waited again. “No,” eventually came the answer.

—–

“It took *three* hours to get even what story I received,” states an exhausted Baker Blinker to Baker Bloch the following morning at Perch.”

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“Another beer Blinks?” Baker Bloch then asks, seeing Baker Blinker’s glass emptied after the latest swig.

“Better not. And that old beer we left about, what, a *month* back has turned brown over there. It needs to be thrown away. All of these objects need to be removed or reorganized. The Table is not what we spoke of back then. Things have changed.”

“Lennon, er Lemon,” recites Baker Bloch.

“Synchronicity continues,” adds Baker Blinker. “No stopping now.”

Baker Bloch smiles.

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New Rubi Memorial

The two pictures below are of the newly placed “We Have Arrived Let’s Get Out of Here” Memorial to Collagesity founder and then deserter Ryan “Skippy” Rye, the front of which depicts his landing in the Rubi area during the year B.L. 2130 (with the B.L. standing for Before Linden in case you didn’t know). This was during the golden years of Lemon, when the high seas were dominated by lumberjacks and astronauts and the air was constantly filled with confetti and popped maize.

Skippy ordered Castle Ryan to be built by his slave equivalents, deemed it amateur and stupid, and departed from what would become the Minoa sim after only 6 days, steering his land-ship back into the Rubi Woods and departing through its central portal for destinations unknown to this day.

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Arrival.

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Departure.

Castle Ryan was rebuilt and rechristened Castle Jack in 23 A.L. by dictator and stand-up comedian Jack “Jiff” Danielsonlanderscroft (stock photo missing).

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Collagesity resident and Skippy Rye descendant Karla Danielsonlanderscroft with son Alf at the new memorial.

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