Category Archives: Collagesity Fordham

Scroop’s closest one-to-one name match in the Oracle is Scrougeout

Spider guides. Wheeler’s new fashion design business highlighted by “accident” (foreground) on my big Nautilus map in the sky. Nearby Strutter sim’s steampunk village Rugburns with the cat-witch and her own tuxedo cat (“Pheh! Tuxedo?” she uttered disgustingly when learning she couldn’t get a solid black one) is gone now, disappeared back into the pixels it came from.

Strutter’s closest one-to-one name match in the Oracle is Struthers, reminding us of Shelley and her Lebettu Castle where I just came from, me being Newt, formerly Axis-Windmill and with last name yet to be determined. Perhaps it is Newton. Heck perhaps it is Struthers, and Shelley is my child, hmm. *Our* child?

Anyway, Spider is back and I’m glad of it. Less work for me to find the next meaningful association to continue the blog posts being churned out one-by-one, like Struthers to Scroop here where the two-dimensional, numbers uttering chihuahua with a name of a different animal species altogether stands upon. Sim, that is…

… and diagonally on it in addition. Let’s follow this.

—–

Ahh yes.

I miss it.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0505, Collagesity Fordham, Long Islands, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Wild West

00320616

“W-what?” He could scarcely believe his ears. Wheeler wanted Collagesity to stay! She wasn’t going to lend him the money until she heard the “I do”. And she wants to still get married on top of everything else! In Collagesity! Which will go on, she said, one hand in the other. “We will be married to Collagesity as well,” she ended her shocking spiel. Marriage, membership, premium land and rental land retainment, all together.

She takes another bite of her plumeria sandwich and then says she’s just joking, and do whatever you want with the land and then she gave me the money without hesitation, touching me and sending L$1500 into my bank account.

“Now about that tic tac toe game…”

END OF “SUNKLANDS 2022 EARLY”!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0616, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Wendy-Ontario

00320615

She’s been here already, he realized, looking at the last visitor picture. Offering an apple — offering *me* an apple obviously. Will you rent again from us, will you be *tempted*? L$831 dollars in the bank, just enough to cover rent for the next week. But dare I?

Novel 32 is coming to a close. Premium membership running out tomorrow, and land use fees resetting the day after that.

It’s too easy. No, I will not pay the rent, nor renew the membership. I will get rid of my land through abandonment if needed. Property in the beige highlands of Nautilus — not very valuable at all and will have to sell at a cut rate price to even ditch the burden in the next several weeks, most likely. Time for a purge.

One more thing to check, the clincher?

Still available. The library, the castle, the Nautilus map can move there. Everything else can go away for all I care, even the Temple of TILE, at least templerarily, hehe. No time for jokes here. Action… tomorrow, tonight, right now.

I im Wheeler, richer in money at this point. “Send me a couple of lindens over, say 1500.” Enough to cover 2 weeks in this location on famed Rooster’s Peninsula.

I wait. The curtains close again for now.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0615, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, North, Rooster's Peninsula, Sansara

00320602

He waits between hot and cold, choosing hot himself and currently enjoying a mustard and ketchup laden dog of such temperature before customers show up for the midday “rush” — not much of a rush actually but he’s not much of a worker these days, being technically retired and a bona fide Whitehead in Da Woods.

The Mustard Ketchup Kid plays soccer in a nearby field with his sister Ventura, who hails from California. She channels her energy in order to attempt to get the ball past Bert (actual name), but all this is just more code.

Squared Root City is expanding across Highway 13-14 into the sim to the north. Still exciting times for the burg. We hold out hope that it can replace Collagesity-Fordham as proper capital of Lower Austra. Because the latter is probably going away and is, anyway, too small for the role, being only a little over 1/8th of a sim in size. Squared Root Cy is, in contrast, about a sim and a 1/2 in area now.

That’s why the Axis-Windmill character is back. He waits in the Zero Club at the beginning of it all — just before the beginning, some say — for another important character that has chosen to resurface in these here blog-novels to match the new energy. Vim, some call her; others: Vigor (that’s actually her sister, maybe a twin). She counts her Mississippi’s in anticipation of the manifestation. One Mississippi, Two… wait, she forgot something. Newt! At the Zero!

“Hi baby doll.”

He turns. “Eyela?? Wasn’t expecting *you*.”

“No one is,” she speaks truthfully and, after adjusting the strap of her new clockwork eyepatch to better match her face, takes a seat beside him at the bar. Both now turn away from the camera and speak privately. We try to listen in but only catch a couple of words like Geronimo, Slick, Olive, and Oklahoma. We gather an oil spill in Indian territory of the panhandle state may be involved but could be mistaken. Let’s back up and move in closer. We’re the bartender. Let’s call him Jim. Tom, actually, only 3 feet away. Close enough to properly record. We ask if they need a drink to be more legitimate seeming. They refuse. We move away but not too much — should be OK. And… PRESS.

“I’m glad we could mustard enough energy to catch up,” she began, which was code for “very important information to follow.”

“Spill,” he requested, and she did. We were right. Kind of.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0602, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Mississippi, Nautilus, Squared Root City

the end of Duncan, A.

“He’s not coming out of there,” he says to me. “He’ll always be a part of the library.”

I knew I was weighted too much in the South. But that’s where he chose to stay.  “Who will replace him?” I asked Buster Damm sitting across from me, an impossibly small vampire in such a big big world. Too small to fit in anywhere properly. But too important to die himself. He stared the answer into me.

“So they just found him there. Dead.”

“Gone to South America,” Buster elaborated as best as possible. Just like Sherwood before him, another Allen.

—–

Nighttime at the Castle in De Skies; fog getting thicker. Must think about heading home soon. North.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0516, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, North, Rooster's Peninsula

drowning (out)

He left her with her two orange eyes and matching orange legs, dancing up a stoorm in Trinidad at a place she’d been hanging out for years now, she said. He had succeeded in part 1 of his 2 part quest as well. The price? Reversion to Nauty, extraction of the possessee, pins revealed. He was Nauty. He was Nautilus.

Let’s see where we are on the big board…

I’m going to artificially light up Darkfold, the nearest gallery to Collagesity since we just featured a couple of his pieces at Wheeler’s Miss Ouri’s Trinidad dance spot, synchily enough. But I didn’t place them there — already present, like a present to be opened. Returning to the map, and understanding highlighted locations are the ones featured in the current photo-novel, now lumbering toward the end of its 5th section like a wheel running out of air (admittedly), we more clearly see the weight toward the south of the Nautilus continent, centered around Collagesity perhaps. Yes: Collagesity, even featured by itself in section 4, which hadn’t happened in a while. And now the struggle with encompassing Lower Austra, how to define borders between the east, the west, the north and south. How to define *center*.

Later a folk-punk band showed up to help with the cause as seagulls all around continued to squawk their mournful tunes.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0515, Collagesity Fordham, Nautilus, Trinidad

00320503


“It sits on grass — solid ground — instead of floor. There is a rainbow sphere like a giant illuminated marble in the middle, surrounding by frozen swarming tentacles. Rest vs. work, yin vs. yang.”

“Man About Time?” I speculated, knowing he waved at this thing like he did to himself before. Continuation.

“That and more,” agreed the other, yet to be determined. Maybe Wheeler with her green and blue asymmetrical eyes. Miss Ouri perhaps if they are matching instead. Feminine anyway. Female.

We should also determine if we are dreaming or awake. Could be difficult.

MORE SOON.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0503, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, North, Rooster's Peninsula

00320502

Listening through the walls and the coke machine is over. It’s time to find out who’s in the basement. Is it Rooster?

I think it must be Rooster. Smells like Rooster, even from this distance. We’ll see.

“Halt! (wheeze)”

It wasn’t Rooster. He backtracks a bit; forgets about the end of the tunnel for now.

“Who are you?” he asks mildly.

Squeaky voice, like a inflatable toy full of little holes: “I am (wheeze) the answer you seek.”

Significant pause as he takes the creature in. “Where’s Rooster?”

“He is (wheeze) not here yet.”

Smaller pause. “Will he ever be?”

“(wheeze) No.” Slowly and skillfully the seated small being then moves a chest pin down to emphasize his pricked nature.

“Funny,” is all MAT could think of to say.

“Is (wheeze) it?”

Voodoo doll, Man About Time mulled over. Obviously related to Kactus back in the library — up in the library, just above him in fact. He tries to see through the ceiling toward it. Doesn’t work.

“Ponder (wheeze wheeze) the nature of the peninsula, another (wheeze) sticky outy thing (wheeze wheeze). I am (wheeze) running out of (wheeze) air (WHEEEEeeeeezzzee).”

The final prick did him in. He shouldn’t have done it, MAT realized. Like Conception Concepción Conception, he’d made an error between his legs.

He moves on beyond the deflated being, encountering himself in the first of two cells off the passage.

“Hi me,” he said nonchalantly to himself.

Should he wave back? Or is that how you become trapped in the first place? Acknowledge that you’re here already? MAT decides to ignore him(self) and walks down to the final cell, the end of the journey that has become this post. Is he ready? After seeing himself down here, what choice does he have? No going back.

“What is it?” he asked, out of his cell and sneaking up from behind.”

“How–?”

“I think you should go back where you came,” the other requested, pointing down the passage over his shoulder while he finds himself waving at *it* for some reason. MOA he knew, but that was just another puzzle inside a riddle inside a cypher. The foul smell was starting to become overwhelming; not Rooster indeed. “Let me handle this now. I’ve been waiting for you after all.” STOP

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0502, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, North, Rooster's Peninsula

00320417

Swanie is finally asleep and dreaming up her own characters to play with. Center of the night: time to crack into that Monster Book for real, but caarefullly so as not to jar loose the remaining marble again. (Got in) so much trouble before!

He opens up the book in the middle which is the same as the beginning. Just then, the “front door” of special collection slides forward. Someone enters.

“Ross C.!” Man About Time exclaims in a rare outburst. So mild usually.

“I’m glad you made it back, sir,” she said in her robot way, continuing to dust around the shelves and making up time for last week’s snowstorm. Ross C., Man About Time ponders. Haven’t seen her since…

“Sir?” MAT still doesn’t respond. “Sir?” She approaches the reading table. “Oh dear, he’s gone a bit *glassy*-eyed, hehe,” and then dusts him off as well while she’s there.

Pretty good joke for an interloper.

“Oh look,” she continues while looking down at what he’s studying. “Abner again.”

The marbles fall out of his eyes and he can see. But Ross C. was gone. Ross C. was never there.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0417, Arkansas, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

Fred…

Cone grew up in Pine Apple, Alabama, with a population around 100. He attended Moore Academy, a one-room school from kindergarten through high school. He did not play football because there were not enough people to field a team.

He emerged from the blue and yellow tent in another dream, a blue and yellow type dream himself. He closely studies the pine cone atop the book tree we found Agent 47 (or 23) reading beside a bit earlier, remembering something about his father. Pine cone… pineapple cone, he free associates. My father lived in one. The cone became the same as one of his eyes. The Other: The Mother.

“I’m worried about my son,” Snowmanster confessed to her bartender at the town’s Hole in the Wall. “He’s built this whole fantasy library around this Kactus figure he made up when he was a kid and still believes in. He *is* Kactus… at times. When he’s playing that role he doesn’t remember who I am, who his parents are. His whole life becomes a blank.”

Now kimono clad Miss Ouri waited patiently for Snowmaster to come around to the obvious, and the prickly green doll she held in her arms. Maybe she needs a coffee mug or t-shirt to spell it out better. Don’t be a prick! The white swan turns into a black swan.

Wheeler wakes up and instantly remembers to jot it down thanks to a strategically placed poster. Good ol’ Arkansaw! Back to reality, phew.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0416, Arkansas, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Missouri, Nautilus