Category Archives: Chilbo^

really big shoe tonight

“We bagged him,” Gotham remembered later. “Green as the grass we just smoked.” He was both right and wrong, as he often is. The vision, the hallucination, was real enough. He just couldn’t pin down Time and Space amid all the Options. “I… remember… looking down at him.”

“Those eyes, yes,” Man About Time agreed, having experienced kind of the same thing. Sort of parallel visions, at least for about 20 or so seconds, just enough to finish the joint, pliers extracted from a green, yellow, and red pouch between them just earlier. Gotham always came prepared. He had to. Else: chaos; lost in The Abyss. He didn’t want to go there again until it was unavoidable, like every night upon falling asleep. 20 or so seconds was all it took, the last toke for both of ’em. Indeed: they had bagged one.

Dare they go see if their joint vision had produced reality?

“He’s in that tent. I know he is.”

“Nah,” countered Gotham. “You’re an inexperienced toker. You don’t understand how it works.”


“Told you.”

“Look! At your foot.”

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joint venture

“Still smoking with the nose instead of the mouth,” Gotham observed in his chair across from me. Me? Man About Time, but changing fast (again).

I stared over at the joined tile on the far wall while speaking. “Let me tell you a story, Gotham, about how I joined a group to find bigfoot. It all started on a porch in a chair. I was in disguise (cough cough).”

I had taken off my shoes in order to help think (cough; *toke*). The cold rock patio (*exhale*) kept me alert and on task, brr. Changing perspective, I knew it had to do with the, um, tent in the same sim. I’d seen this (*toke*) tent before. In Insipid… oh heck, what was the name of that sim. Intrepid.”

“Instabar,” offered Gotham. “I’ve read the attached novel,” he explained. “Pretty good, except for The Man in the exact center. Highly unlikely,” he judged. Side note: Gotham was pretty much the same when high as not high. He’d smoked so much down through the years that he had become the pot. “Hi pot!” he exclaimed first thing in the morning, burying his thumb and fingers in the bag to protract the sweet monie. He’d gotten small so many times…

“I was… *there*.” It was about as much energy as I could muster in the moment. Mustard. Ketchup. Condiments! I realized, mind yelling much louder than mouth could. I need a Hot Dog!

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three of ’em 02

We keep following breadcrumbs. The newest one? The Beer Tent in Dalnim, a part of the Greater Chilbo area. Recognize the tent?

Yes, very tasty.

To backtrack…


But then: sidetracked.

“Do you have a tummy ache, little boy?”

“A mild one, yes sir.”

“We’re *all* sick,” the child opposite him at the Mad Hatmaker table spoke up. “It’s the magic mushrooms in our tea and coffee. We — didn’t know.”

And then *another* one just down the hill, but not owned by the same avatar. The house with the sick children lies between.


The Man About Time finally returned to the empty Instabar parcel that inspired his trip. This was an easy one. He downs another satisfying swig of Flasche Oettinger Export and contemplates what to put within.

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“What is this suppose to be again, Karoz?”

“It’s called ‘Dance #12,’ and it’s beautiful. I love everything about Chilbo, Baker Bloch,” the alien green being reinforced. “I feel like I am home here.”

“So you’ve said.” Baker didn’t think he was going to budge Karoz’s feelings today. Nor any day perhaps. Maybe this *was* home to him. But what of 7 Stones, then, and the duplicate temple there? It’s time start pondering — the end?

“Let’s go see it once more,” Karoz requested to his old friend. They’ve been together for over 10 years now, Real Life time. And all those stepping stone years perhaps lead to this moment, this decision. To stay in Chilbo forever or attempt to reintegrate he and his wife Baker Blinker back into a self contained village populated only by alts. Collagesity I mean there, and, now, its replacement, 7 Stones, a chip off the old block.


“Marvelous, eh? Like it was suppose to be there. All along.”

Baker admitted to himself that the temple looked good up there on its perch, overlooking the town. “You know they didn’t want us here, Karoz,” explained his friend, his family. “They thought the collages — too derivative.”

“That’s just your fears.”

“No, I think it’s true. Fleep wanted me here; tried to encourage me. But forces behind the scene persuaded her otherwise, or just overruled her. Perhaps on this and a lot of other matters as well. You have power struggles in a town like this, not solely ruled by alts and their characters.”

“I understand that.” Karoz gazed up the hill, inspired. “But we can change that. We don’t emphasize the collages. We emphasize the philosophy *behind* the collages.”

Was it as simple as that? the male Baker pondered. And where was Baker Blinker today? What was *her* current ruling on the subject? Baker Bloch guessed that she’s going along with Karoz, as usual in the end. She bends her will to his. At least about all this TILE stuff: temples, colleges, etc.

“Okay, let’s go see what you’ve got so far, Karoz.” I through Baker Bloch have accepted the idea of letting go.

“*Swell,” and he dashed up the green, green slope with this. Like a man of 30 instead of the 60 he is.

I admittedly had a hard time keeping up.

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no room

Karoz spoke over to the meditating Baker Blinker. “The Oracle Tree is broken, yes, but it’s still good to be back.”

“Chilbo. Without the ‘l'”

Few souls reach the top of the Oracle Tree. It was planted obscurely, in a small backwater of the Metaverse, with its uppermost branches hidden in the clouds, across a narrow path that’s easy to tumble off for the uninitiated traveler.

But now that you’ve arrived, relax a moment, ponder the blueness of the sky or the twinkle of the stars, and think about the view.

Perhaps you’re looking for a bit of wisdom from the Tree. It has such a promising name after all. “The Oracle Tree,” one thinks, “It must have something to say.”

But it doesn’t. It’s a figment of someone’s imagination, left behind as a monument to creativity, exploration, wonder, and fancy. A whimsical flower perched atop, I wish I could see it flutter in my imaginary breeze. Yes, someone came along to this spot and planted The Oracle Tree, and left us no bits of wisdom at all.

Though perhaps that isn’t true either. Perhaps there is wisdom in the expression of our imaginations, our flights of fancy, our whim. Tinkering and messing about to make our dreams visible, to ourselves and to others. Perhaps make them more real in this world and the next.

That’s the wisdom I’ve taken from the Oracle Tree, and I pass it on to you, traveler. Build something wonderful for the next person to find.

Safe journeys through the Metaverse. It’s certainly a curious place.

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15 minutes later…

“Did you get the information I wanted, Norris?”

“N-no. Not yet.” He was trying very hard not to perspire, show fear. But Casey drew it out of him. He *fed* off of it. “I guess… you heard about the beaver?”

“The beaver is not of my concern,” Casey said mechanically. His whole tone of voice was drained of emotion. Casey knew that Jeffrie Phillips would soon be reading this blog post and catching up with him. He needed to stay one, preferably several steps ahead in the game. And we’re not talking about Grand Theft Auto here, ridiculous bank heists and shite.

Norris continued to stare forward into the red curtains. He’d been doing this for as long as he could remember. Weeks, maybe months. Years, even. He had *hoped* that Casey would stare straight ahead as well and not at him. But he could repeatedly sense what felt like two laser beams burning into the back of his head. Cheater! Trying to extract the needed information that, yes indeed, he had. Prison schematics.

But Casey already knew this.

The suspiciously tanned man moves forward on his couch and leans toward Norris’ head, his mouth not half a foot from an ear now. “There’s a par three at the back nine of my club,” Casey hisses menacingly, “where the flag pole sometimes goes missing when I make my holes in one.” He withdraws from Norris and gets up to take his leave. “You think about that over the next several days.”

Norris finally couldn’t help himself. “Don’t… *look* at me,” he said weakly.

“You have until Monday to get me that information, Norris. ” Then he was gone, silent as a cat.


Karoz Blogger was next for a visit.

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here and there

“So you’ve decided to play the role of Clare Nova, Wheeler. Third Nova sister.”

“Third *found*,” she said. She takes another sip of her Cabernet Sauvignon wine. “Somewhere in this store is the appropriate avatar. A step up from (Summerhill) and (Golden Bee-ing), true. Something with a little more meat and flesh. Maybe the ancient alien.”

“Study up more on the real Clare Nova,” Baker Bloch suggested. “Find out additional stuff about her land and its relationship with The Diagonal. We’ve already discovered that obelisk tucked in the southwest corner of Hooktip right on the line…

… and then an accompanying leaf screen in *Leaf*roller to the immediate south.

Synchy stuff still going on.”

“And the multiple rose pictures The Musician found in Sister galleries,” reinforced Wheeler. “In his dreams.” She turned toward her Musician, now fully awake and tinkling the ivories of a nearby piano. The tune for the day: David Bowie’s “Alladin Sane.” Third take was the charm.

“Where’s Baker Blinker?” Wheeler suddenly asked.

“You know where they are,” Baker Bloch responded.

“Oh yeah. Chilbo.”


“Where’s Wheeler?” Karoz suddenly asked.

“You know where they are,” Baker Blinker responded.

“Oh… yeah.”

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College update 02

Well, Karoz brainstormed for hours while Patty guarded the door to House Orange. “They’re going to have to know sooner than later what this college is all about,” she urges. “They’re buying books and food and drink and taking train rides, but they don’t understand the point.” Karoz bursts through the phantom, orange door. “Eureka, we’ll go Potter on them. We’ll invent our own sport like Quidditch. And we’ll divide the college itself into four sub-colleges and have them play *each other*. Brilliant — yeah?” He knew they couldn’t just play Quidditch itself — had to be something new. Something related to TILE, he then realized in another moment of inspiration. “Red, green, yellow, blue, like the Fighting Marbles. Marbles Fall… Marble Falls. Dogpatch. Billy Ray Cyrus.” He was word associating. Patty Pepper Mint just stood there, arms folded. “Curriculum?!” she thought so loudly that he actually heard it. But Karoz had backed into the truth. The college had to be based on TILE and a related game or games. Pupils had to “get marbled”.

That better be it for tonight!


One more thing. Story Room wrote a quick reply to this post, saying that it’s obvious they should head 3 of the 4 sub-colleges, and Karoz the 4th. It was all heading in this direction all along. Red, blue, yellow. They even suggested some names for the 4 subs: Moss, Rope, Tongue, and Chalk. “I’ll take Rope,” Steptoe said. “Tongue for me,” the talkative Oskar Robert’s Son offered. “Left with Chalk, I suppose,” the shy Chuck or Charlie chipped in. “And of course you’re Moss,” they said in basic unison to Karoz. Karoz woke up.

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Falmouth College update.

College president elect Karoz Blogger was disappointed to learn that there is a real life Falmouth College of sorts in Cornwall County, England, and an arts college at that. He’ll make a final decision on the name soon, he promises. But it has to be Falmouth College still, doesn’t it? Maybe he could just call it Fal Mouth College. Still like the sports nickname of the Cussers. But who will they play? Well, they can play Parktown, they can play Chilbo. Michael Bolton is the new head coach over there, I’ve heard. He ordered new playbooks from a local company but they sent leather bound copies of Phil Donahue transcripts from the 1990’s instead. No, wait, Billy Ray Cyrus is the new Chilbo coach; Michael is the assistant coach. Well, if Karoz wants to participate in this football season he better hurry up and start the college and get his team together. Another possible opponent is the Billville No Neckers.

But what about the curriculum development? What will his college *teach* the young, virtual kids of today’s generation? “Moss” is all he has now. Football and Moss. “Com’on,” urges Patty Pepper Mint from beyond the door. Because Karoz has locked himself into his small office in House Orange to plan for the future. “I can’t think with all the trains going by and kids ordering their food and drinks and books,” he complains. Patty Pepper Mint comes from a large family of complainers over in the green Nari hills. Billy Ray Cyrus is her 1st Cousin. Some say they were even married at one time and had several children. She doesn’t like to talk about those days, but, on the other hand, Patty is obviously excited about the prospect of playing Chilbo. Karoz reinforces that she check in on him each and every hour, 24 hours a day. Home life and playing with cousins can wait, he jokes. She doesn’t laugh. Karoz knows the secret. Michael Bolton is not [just] another 1st cousin but the husband of Billy Ray. Michael Bolton stole his heart away from her. She’s *jealous*. Spongebob Squarepants and husband Patrick Star plan to attend all the Fal Mouth College home games (*there* — made a decision on the name!).

Another opponent: Rooster Springs Backwoods Institute (where you’re in the middle, which unfortunately is in the way).

Karoz needs to identify a league. He contacts B.R. Cyrus. Michael Bolton puts down a Donahue script and answers the phone. They identify together some common opponents. “Parktown, yeah,” Bolton spouts. “I hate Parktown and their sewers and dirigibles, so hoiti toitti. They’re all addicted to sex and gambling over there. Do they have a high school?” Karoz was shocked. He didn’t realize Chilbo was a *high school* team. There was no college in Chilbo, nor in Parktown. Yes, he found out Parktown has a high school. And Nari, for that matter: the old Crow’s Foot building serves as a place for 6 to 8 young adults to gather together each fall and spring for learning lessons. Patty Pepper Mint, of course, knows all of them. They’re immediate family each and every one. “Well, we cannot have a football team without other colleges to play. Can we play high schools?” “Up to you,” Patty returns. “There’s *got* to be other colleges in the area. How about the Sheldonopolis Fighting Sheldons?” “Funny,” Patty answers. “But, yes, we can play them.” “Maybe I should just scrap the football idea this year and focus on the curriculum and getting the school started.” Patty said the obvious. “You think?”

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Roaming 01

This night Baker Bloch decides to roam the neighborhood instead of working on Collagesity.

Baker heads south through the western part of Noru from his town. As he passes into the Mujigae sim, he turns and shoots this picture of a sign at the sim crossing. It was a familiar one, since he use to own a bunch of Noru land directly behind it in 2010: the now legendary (to him) Norum Woods, with the Blue Feather Gallery intially featured as a skybox from April to July of that year before moving groundside in August. And even though he abandoned the land in September, I believe, the forest remained for a number of months to come. You can visit Collagesity’s Noru Museum for more pictures of the forest and attached Blue Feather Gallery (and more!).


Baker actually also owned this land in Mujigae south of the sign pictured both above and below. The hollowed out place he looks toward is where a smaller version of the Blue Feather Gallery was positioned in spring 2011. Yes, Baker’s been involved with the Noru area for quite some time now.


Interesting statue just across the mahogany colored Chilbo sidewalk from where the largest version of my Blue Feather Gallery was once position. Hard to take a picture of it as a whole, though.




Story here:


This is an essential duplicate of Tired Falls in Collagesity, sans tire. In fact, I believe the property’s owner, Oddprofessor Snoodle, yet another local with Chilbo attachments, might have copied this from my old neighborhood holdings originally, along with some of my other copyable objects at the time. I have bunches of ’em! I’ll have to provide a tour of Oddprofessor’s very interesting, physics oriented science museum in Mujagae sometime now I’m back in the hood. And, as I’m rechecking just now, O. Snoodle also owns the Sentinel sculpture pictured above.


The fringes of Chilbo proper come into view.

The colonnade fronted building to the right in the below photo turned out to be an art museum…


… featuring the works of Javier Mariano Sanchez…


…and avatar Edgar Artaud.


Ah… found the identity of Edgar’s user…

And there’s a, um, connection with Connectivism, which is an Olando7 focus as well. They must know each other virtually through Chilbo.

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