Category Archives: Lower Austra

November 12, 2019 · 7:50 am

Steamboat

Mr. Babyface looked down at the large palm tree The Man About Time was currently referring to. “The Hole is gone,” he had just said about the mysterious object formerly underneath it. “When Mick jumped in, the effect was gone. The great 2-n-1 was over.”

“Takes 2 to know, yeah,” Mr. Babyface says in response now, thinking he needs to phone up Greg Ogden as soon as possible. Or, on the other hand, Gregg Oden, if he’s in that form presently. He’d been romancing a living, breathing Mandela Effect for months and didn’t know it, didn’t know the term for it. The Man About Time is attempting to clear this up.

“Gaston has a lot to do with this,” then offered MAT in his mild voice while scratching the back of his neck on the couch. “Changes people, and sometimes not for the good.” He scratches more. “Sometimes… for the bad.”

“And that’s where Greg said he was going in that letter he wrote me,” completes Mr. Babyface while turning, more eager than ever to pick up the phone.

But which way to go, he thinks, receiver in hand just later. Does he go to Gaston or does Greg come here?

“I’ll come to you,” responds Greg Ogden at his red Gaston house. “They frown on mutanty looking people around here,” he said, referring to Mr. Babyface’s baby faced head.

“Well I *never*.” But he was coming back and that was the most important thing. He was pulling him out of *there*.

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November 11, 2019 · 7:44 am

return of the Dawg Pound?

“… nice view of Carrcassonnee’s new, blooming tree over at the Temple of TILE. I think this could be our new spot, Other Baker.” He woofed down another delicious piece of Raggedy Ann’s pizza with this. “This — um so good — this new pizza item is the *best*, Baker Blinker.” He takes yet another bite, and talks, still with his mouth pretty full. “Ginger, yum (*chomp*). Just a hint of ginger.”

“How about that table over there, though,” suggests similarly woofing Baker Blinker, not as convinced this was their new spot at Perch. “Better view.” She was at least polite enough to stop eating when she talked.

Baker Bloch glanced over after swallowing. “Too near the door to the place. You know I don’t like sitting in front of the door. *Everyone* can look out on us.” He returns to the pizza and the devouring of it. “Besides (*cut*), Mr. Babyface is over there right now (*bite*).”

“Mr. Babyface has *been* over there. What’s he doing with all those newspapers?”

Baker Blinker’s been glancing over here, thinks Mr. Babyface, paused in his reading. She may report me to the maitre de, gasp, who may tell the owner. Maybe even Perch himself, who sees *everything* anyway.

Oh wait, he suddenly realized, playfully fooling himself. Perch is back in (Carrcassonnee’s) head — not mounted up there above the door any more. Grease stain left behind covered up by a big clock. Oh well. Guess there’s no one around to monitor my voluminous newspaper reading today. Maybe I’ll order another cup of coffee around, say, 3:30-ish.

At 25 after 3, Mr. Babyface spots the odd conjunction that would influence the rest of his life. An ad for a football camp featuring Leroy Kelly, and just below, an ad originating from Steamboat Springs, Colorado.

Steamboat Kelly, he ruminates after reading one then the other. The famous running back who replaced (best running back ever) Jim Brown but also made a (smaller) name for himself. Sat on the bench and bided his time — good for him. Patience pays off.

Trouble was, there was never a *Steamboat* Kelly. Only Leroy — sans nickname. Mr. Babyface had entered an alternate universe where up could be down and Cleveland Browns players, former and present, could be manipulated by a higher power.

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November 3, 2019 · 7:24 am

time town 02

It was time to make the House of Truth a permanent structure in Collagesity South.

Done.

He then sits and admires Carrcassonnee’s new “growth” before entering the neighboring temple. So olive green, just like herself. The plant makes the alien and the alien makes the plant. Nifty. Three again is the lucky charm as per legend: a tree in this case. Three Tree; good name (?).

Walking the Rainbow Labyrinth on the temple’s bottom floor may be required preparation later on but not right now. The Man About Time is prepared enough.


8-5-6-7-4-1-2-3-0

On second floor: much work to be done still. The Man About Time plays a Carl Nielsen piano piece to see how it affects the tv static. He believes that Carrcassonnee will like this music and looks forward to her approval. He’s here to entertain her, among other things.

Third floor: Carrcassonnnee herself. Alive and well. Well enough. For now. Later: mobility.

“Hi Carr. What’s up with you tonight. What you been thinking about today? Let me in on it if you may.”

“Helllllooooo MAT. I……. call you.. MAT. You…….. call me….. CARR.”

“Okay, Carr. Good deal. MAT it is. Okay.” He swings his arms around, temporarily faces away, then returns. “Hey Carr, I’ve been thinking…”

“Iiiiiiiiiiiii”

“Um, yes Carr? You okay?”

“Iiiiiiiiiiiii”

“Okay. Lemme take a closer look (at your eye)….” But MAT quickly realized that Carrcassonnee wasn’t physical any more, unlike the old days. He couldn’t climb up her leg and check the eye, like before. She was still in some kind of ethereal form. Better be careful with her, he realized. Take it slow; slow it down.

“Iiiiiiiiiiiii” Carrcassonnee repeated, but MAT decided he couldn’t help her today.

“Hey Carr. I — think we better postpone that chat until tomorrow, eh? Tomorrow it is my friend.”

Carrcassonnee just stares now. Everything seems okay. But everything wasn’t okay. Something hadn’t been locked into place yet.

The 7th.

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November 3, 2019 · 6:54 am

time town 01

Roger Pine Ridge wasn’t home because Roger Pine Ridge’s home wasn’t, The Man About Time discovered tonight after another attempt to contact the progressive rock loving alien. Looks like he won’t be coming back to Collagesity. At least in the current photo-novel. Shame, MAT thinks. Wanted to talk to him about some things.

Suppose I’ll put a small park here or sumtin.

But it’s on to the main event of the night, perhaps. More attempts to contact Carrcassonnee in a meaningful, fluid way. Fluidity is everything, MAT ponders while crossing The Peninsula into *Collagesity* Eastside.

Looking back from the end of the bridge, he realized The Peninsula needed some palm trees to complete the effect.


voila

On to Carrcassonnee…

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November 2, 2019 · 9:21 am

awake! aware

“Hi Carrcassonnee. Welcome back, heh. Whattaya got to say for yourself? Hear it’s been a long, long time for ya, huh? Carrcassonnee?”

“I…….. am……… back?”

“That’s right, Carr. Can I call you Carr? Like something-I-can-drive kind of car. Except with another ‘r’ at the end.”

Carr(cassonnee) thought heavily. “I…………. suppose.”

“Great, Carr, heh.” The Man About Time spins around while holding out his arms. This was truly a joyful moment. Carr is alive! She’s come back. “Do you know what happened? How you got back?”

Carr senses something at her left foot. A buzzing, a humming. Life! “Something……. about……… plants?”

“That’s right, Carr baby. Plants. 3 plants, but 2 are dead. But that one, man. That one did the trick. Either you brought *it* back to life or it brought *you* back to life. Either one: you’re back. Man. Dad-i-o.”

Who…. is….. this….. man? Carr then thought, less lumberingly and limbering up. Is he……. dad? And…. this…. moss.. hanging.. off. Me. Carr tried to look down at the moss draping from her left arm but couldn’t. Had to keep staring at The Man About Time instead. But she could feel it. And she could see it peripherally. She could see a lot of things that way. A bit of the just resurrected Collagesity Tower almost completely at a right angle to her through the right window, for example. A structure she recognized. Collagesity, she thought. *Home*.

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November 2, 2019 · 7:59 am

7 Stones no more (!)

“Senor Green Jeans is a cousin,” states Gene “Mossman” Fade in that oh so grating voice of his after I told him about Alice Farrowheart and granddaughter Toddles’ recent encounter at the Neptune Pool in NWES. If only it were an octave higher Baker Bloch may be able to tolerate the gutty gravelliness for suitable periods of socializing. But I suppose that would mean he’d have to be *Jean* Fade instead of Gene, a girl instead of a boy. Hmm: I wonder, then, if Senor Green Jeans is a girl? But he must get out of here soon. Very much so.

“What does this mean for the town, this name change back to Collagesity?” Gene continued, wondering how it would affect the business at his small bar on Northside.

“It gives it a center,” Baker spoke, the male one that is (there’s also Baker Blinker, of course, the anima to his animus). “We have a tower now. Have you gotten down to that side of town tonight to see? Everyone is gathering. Looks like an instantaneous party, complete with a bonfire. All our friends will be there.” Time’s up. Baker can’t take any more of the voice. He gets up to leave. “See you there hopefully?” he throws back while walking away, rapider and rapider.

—–

Baker was too late for the party, although the bonfire was still smoldering. Police office Jeffry Tanner (yes, yet another cousin), making his nightly rounds, puts it completely out with a special spray made out of anti-tabasco sauce.

But, in the background, we can see the tower, so high from this angle it’s a little hard to make out the “Collagesity” sign.

And even more has happened in town. A certain, special special deity has bloomed new life. Or visa versa. Details soon!

Welcome back Collagesity!

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October 28, 2019 · 2:19 pm

the ability to enter collagewold

Baker Blinker studies the duplicate Temple of TILE from the corner of her would-be, 7 Stones house. Karoz is wrong, she thinks.

Stashed away in a corner of 7 Stones, yes. No comparison with the great site in Chilbo, true.

She looks up at the “floating” Edwardston Station Gallery with its “Art 10×10”, along with the curving top of the Power Tower Gallery containing “Gilatona Lis”.

But more is at stake here.

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October 20, 2019 · 10:28 am

limit

“Seems like we’ll have to return yet again to NWES to have more fun, Charlie Brown.”

“Baker Bloch, please,” states the town leader, not understanding who the Man About Time is actually “talking” to. “That’s cool. It’s a large burg. Much larger than 7 Stones even with the recent additions.”

“And subtractions,” returns The Man About Time in his surprisingly mild voice. “You’ve gained but you’ve lost. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t.” Baker Bloch contemplates again the true nature of the man standing before him. And handless even, now. “Golfing accident,” he explained when Baker arrived here. “Bad slice with a 4 iron,” he elaborated. “It’ll grow back.” He looks above Baker’s face. “Won’t it Charlie?”


Falmouth 12 (“Red Rock”)

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October 20, 2019 · 9:06 am

changes

A new skyscraper has come to 7 Stones. More details soon.

Hand in hand with this addition, the townspeople have decided to keep the cubic form of baker b.’s “Art 10×10” of 100 collages, locally known as the Edwardston Station Gallery. Mr. Babyface originally huffs at the retention to anyone within earshot, but is then partially pacified when he realizes he can see the distant Whirlygig Temple from his apartment window by extending his sight range a little beyond the norm, as he did the day of the discovery while trying to spot the top of the new skyscraper mentioned above. Mr. Babyface even contemplates attending services at the temple, if any regular ones are to be found. He’s now a pious fellow, originally praying to God to help him cope with breast tenderness while in his early 40s.

And speaking of temples, there’s also a new one in Collagesity itself;  Mr. Babyface may have a range of religious options to choose from all of a sudden. I am pleased as punch to announce the return of Karoz Blogger’s Temple of TILE, which I suppose means Karoz himself will return to 7 Stones, along with wife Baker Blinker of course. This was a surreptitious decision because Karoz was just about to splurge on a larger parcel over in Chilbo to set the temple up when townspeople voted to retain the ESG. “Come back to 7 Stones,” then urged town leader Baker Bloch to his old friend. “Free of charge; you’ll have all town resources at your disposal.” And so it seems it will be.

The price for all these additions? The groundside galleries holding the “Art 10×10”, namely Gallery Jack,  House Greenup, and SoSo. But, as explained a bit in this earlier post, all of the 100 collages displayed within these structures are still in the Edwardston Station Gallery skybox, so no real subtraction for the village. And now… well, let’s wait to describe some new art coming to town until later. A bridge-maker between old and new. Important!


The Man About Time also pondering religions in his Kidd Tower apartment.

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October 18, 2019 · 5:09 am

let’s go with Hitchcock

“Come on and jump in with me, Molly,” he implored in his squeaky voice. “The water’s just fine today!” The chicken beside Mick remained doubtful. Not as stupid as some people think, those creatures are. They’ve seen these Florida kind of tricks before. Could be bottomless, Molly ponders. Could be a black hole.

Besides, something is already there, stuck it seems. Plugging a hole perhaps, she ruminates further. All Blue — no, wait, the *hair* isn’t blue. And Cloe, sitting on this very cement porch yesterday, *lost* her blue hair, along, ultimately, with her hat, hands, and the rest of her body. The rest of the h’.s, including heart and, finally, health. Molly came to a logical conclusion: This *is* Cloe, but an Anti-Cloe, someone reborn that perhaps shouldn’t be reborn. An abomination. Let’s just call her “H” as in capital “H”, she decides, thinking of how to present this new town development to the chickens of the local coop later on.

Mick, tired of waiting, dives without Molly into the center of the watering hole, unconcerned about the presence of another being there. He doesn’t see “H”; she doesn’t see him. They exist in different dimensions, as if turned upside down from each other.

BLAM-O!!

—-

Anti-Cloe is freed from her spherical blue encapsulation, able to leave the pool now.

Having served its function, the watery hole then withers away into the nothingness whence it came. When will you learn, Mick, that it truly does take two to know?

—–

“Soup, miss?”

“Get the f-ck out of here little demon,” she waves him off. “Oh, and fetch me some clothes from the dresser beside the bed. Anything but blue.

Well, just don’t stand there staring. Do it!”

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