external/internal

Facing threats to the south (Cult of Oo’d)…

… the east (Fal Mouth Moon)…

… the north (Stairs)…

… Sister Mary Lamb retreats into her fortress of cheese to worship the gateway gods. She chooses liquor tonight just to switch it up…

… but when fellow devotee Jack Richardson starts to sneeze and sniff beside her, she changes back to the standard fries on the opposite side of the prayer room.

Good ol’ fries. Never lets her down. Now if she could only stop stealing glances at Baker B.’s degenerate collages in the Fal Mouth Moon across the street and focus on the Great Cheese. That hand, that hand…

One worry: she’ll start to develop stigmata but of the wrong kind. Tell tale type.

It’s all leading somewhere but she doesn’t know where.

I might.

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Filed under *Second Life, Lake District, Rubi, United Kingdom

too soon

Mary usually talked to Ralph (horse) during her after-dark angling sessions at Rubisea, but tonight was different. Indigo, a night owl herself, made an introduction.

—–

Indigo was full of questions tonight about her new home. “Why do you call it the Rubi Sea?” the blue woman asked in her deep, almost masculine voice. And with odd overtones to it.

“Ru-BI-se-A,” Mary pronounced correctly. “It’s just a joke name. It’s a little pool of water but we call it a sea, see? And of course Rubi is the sim it’s in — we’re in. Well, *you’re* in. Say you just moved in night before last?” She looked over at the trailer sitting on the southwest corner of the lot, perched atop the spring that feeds the pool. She was eager to go take a closer look but Indigo seemed to want to keep her distance from it, maybe so as to not wake kinfolk Agnus and Ragdoll inside.

” Ru-BI-se-A,” Indigo repeated, and gazed over at the water to her left. “And this *perch*, you say, is the only fish in it. Like the Perch restaurant daddy and sis and I ate at yesterday with the big, human head mounted on the wall — another Perch. And then to add to it we had the perch at Perch.” She pointed left. “From this pool?”

Nah, these little fishes are hardly worth the bait to catch him. The restaurant’s fish are imported from the big fresh water lakes over in the Pond District, I believe. Tethia and Sesea. Maybe Pruni too.”

“Tethia and Sesea and Pruni.” Indigo found that saying names aloud helped her remember them. Or writing them down — but she forgot to bring her notepad and ink pen out tonight. She was going to start taking notes on the position of all the trees of the forest. Her daddy said that’s how she can help best right now in their efforts. Ragdoll will focus on religion, he’ll focus on The Diagonal as a whole, and Indigo will have the woods. She’s started to read Karl’s “Blood Curdling Tells of the Rubi Woods,” a Collagesity classic by now.

“But tell me more about yourself,” Mary then requested. “I know you’re from Obscure just over the hill — beyond The Wall. But were you born there?” Mary was guessing not, judging by her colorful appearance.

“Bennington.” Indigo almost spit the name out. “Don’t want to talk about it,” she added clippingly.

So Mary thought of other things for potential discussion. “How did you get involved in this — Pot-D wasn’t it?”

Indigo reflexively found herself biting her tongue again. She had slipped up near the beginning of their night time conversation, so glad she was to talk to another human being besides Angus and Ragdoll. So she decided to erase the faux pas from Mary’s mind. Indigo began toying with the triangular red amulet hanging round her neck, with glints from its silver skeletal hands catching Mary’s eye now and then. “Beautiful, isn’t it. My daddy gave this to me when I turned 13.” Indigo then reached around with both hands and removed the necklace, laying it on the table between them and making sure the triangle faced Mary full on. The fisherwoman was already transfixed by now.

“Pot-D is a secret between you and me Mary. Collagesity will know in time what it means, but for right now you must keep it locked away in your mind. Locket. Locket. Lock-it.”

And just like that the deed was done. Indigo gathered up the necklace and said she had to get back to bed now since the sun was about to come up. Mary picked up her fishing pole and headed back to Darkly Manor, with the last thing she recalled about their conversation being Indigo’s hatred of her home town. Farmington, wasn’t it? Something “-ing”, anyway. Pretty sure.

“Goodbye, um…,” but Mary also couldn’t quite recall the name of the horse she had been friends with going on a year now.

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Filed under *Second Life, Rubi

new Max related graffiti found in still vacant Stairs Gallery

But who’s Ruby? observing Ragdoll wonders.


Also new: binocular viewer atop Stairs.

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Filed under *Second Life, Iris, Rubi

The introduction of Pot-D.

“Thank you for waiting, Roger.”

“No problem… The Bill.”

“Bill, please. For now.”

“Well I’ll get straight to it. Since this is the only Fisher Island in Wisconsin (Roger indicates the map still displayed on the media feed of The Table Room), and then the only *Fishers* Island — plural — in the state is on a Hazelhurst topo map — that we’re talking about an exchange: Fisher or Fishers Island for New Island. I am such an exchange, after all, since I’m not Roger Waters but Roger Pine Ridge. And it has worked out all right for me. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You are indeed,” affirms Bill. “And we’re glad to have you sitting at our Table. You are *The* Variant, as I might be *The* Bill. Interesting symmetry.”

“Is it?”

“Could be.”

Roger puts a hand to his naturally cracked lips. “Does this Ruby have to affect the change? Can you not do it yourself?”

“As you know, RPR, I am indeed queen of Collagesity, but only because Mabel is so involved in New Island that’s she’s rarely here. Once she returns — all this aberrant energy she feels is dealt with — then she’s back here and a battle shapes up. I need to know what side you’re on. I’d like you to stand with me, obviously. Not that your position at The Table is in doubt, it’s just…”

“So Mabel controls Ruby,” interrupts an engrossed Roger Pine Ridge. “Ruby, the girl of 15, of course, and not Rubi the Woods. No one can control the forest.”

“Not so fast on that, Roger PR, my aberrant friend. We have a plan.”

“We?”

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Filed under *Second Life, Rubi

It’s official.

Roger Pine Ridge is back in town, and in his old apartment next to SoSo Mall formerly shared with old girlfriend Cyberpaperdoll, who, you might recall, ran off with a younger, hipper dude named Bandit Boy during his stint in Iris in the heart of the Heterocera continent. Roger says he’s tired of toying around, as he put it, with our user Baker B. up in the real world, and was itching to get back to playing a “less pressurized, less constrained” part in the still evolving “Collagesity mythos” — again his words. Here he poses with the cutout of another, directly related Roger at the town’s Blue Feather Club: Roger “Syd” Barrett, his fellow bandmember during the early days of psychedelic mega-group Pink Floyd and its original driving force. The mantle of band leader passed from Roger (Syd) to Roger (Roger) in early ’68, as Syd’s mind gradually turned to mush. But you see his fingerprints all over later (and more commercially successful) Floyd in such albums as “Wish You Were Here”, “The Wall,” and, of course, the masterpiece of them all, 1973’s “Dark Side of the Moon”, whose main theme is elements of the world (constraints of “Time”, pressures of “Money”, etc.) that lead one to go mad (“Brain Damage”).

Roger Pine Ridge had his way paid out of the Iris “swamp village” by newly crowned continental queen Bill — The Bill. He chose to enter the real world first, but now leaves behind the old, old disagreement of Missouri vs. Arkansas as the heart of our US of A to focus on “virtual frivolities”.

Again, his phrasings. Welcome back Roger!

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Filed under *Second Life, Rubi

warrior

From his perch atop Pimushe Island, zebra-donkey Zettie Lamont laments the recent loss of the undifferentiated mini coop from nearby Fisher’s Isle down below because he knows it means the beginning of the end for his beloved New Island.

He also laments the loss of his Uncle Zippers in the island’s short but bloody ’92 war between The Actors and The Observers, and often trots over to Flossie’s in the Leon sim to complain to former soldier and current couch potato Norris about it.

“Get off your striped ass and do something!” he might sprayingly bray into the bleached man’s face during any one visit. He’s earned that right.

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island

Rubisea

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island