Tag Archives: Buurb

thankfully

Axis certainly gets around. Here’s he’s on an island in the northeast part of Heterocera (Eggar sim). It’s hot down here at the beach, and he pulls off his duster coat and carefully lays it by the shoreline. He must get back to the art store soon. Too bad he can’t wear those paint splattered paints they sell for free within…. merely a mesh figure he is. But perhaps they’ll fit burgeoning artist Annie to the T.

Or Bill.

Or Mabel.

One way to find out…

—–

“Aren’t they just the dreamiest, Turch?! Now when Baker Bloch reopens the Red Umbrella we’ll be back in business. Buurb should be here soon.”

“Sure,” reassures Turch, because he knows Mabel can’t take another loss like her brother Little. But probably she won’t have to. Most likely, yes.

—–

“I can’t do this Precious; put your wings back on. I have to find Mabel.”

“I… understand.”

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Filed under *Second Life, Heartsdale, Heterocera, Rubi

gone 02

“So you see, PS. It was never suppose to come to this. You over there. Me here.” Baker Blinker then looks down the pier toward the center of town. “Oh Me Gods. Here comes Buurb. You’re not suppose to be seen with me. Gotta scram!” Baker Blinker disappears. Precious Snowflake is alone when Buurb walks up. He didn’t spot Baker Blinker sitting with his Heartsdale friend. Else his brains would have been even more scrambled up than what they already were.

“Thank God, Precious. Someone I know. Are you alright? Is the mission okay?” He spoke rapidly, not letting Precious get a word in edgewise. “The town! It’s changed. I’ve walked all around it now, trying to find… *someone*. And here you are. Not at the mission but here. But this place is new too. A coffee shop, eh? Mabel would be pleased. Have you seen Mabel? I’ve tried and tried to reach her on the hot phone but no go. Do you have a phone? Perhaps yours would work better in this… new environment. Are you okay?” he repeats. “God I have to take a leak, Precious. I can’t even find a bathroom I’m familiar with! You know my condition.”

Precious Snowflake took it all in. She remembered the blueness, the change. Pink to blue and blue to pink. The mixed up boy-girl. Leeman.

Or Leemon.

“You walked right past someone on the way up here,” she said nonchalantly. “Did you not see them?”

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Filed under *Second Life, Heartsdale

gone

Buurb came home from a hard day of peddling his wares. Something was different. The alley leading to his home was gone!

Sealed up by brick, it appeared. Why hadn’t Mabel phoned him?? But she was probably out doing stuff on her own. The consulting, yes. Maybe down at the mission dispensing free gravy to the poor, removing unwanted lumps when needed. It’s all about Montana lately for her.

Stunned, Buurb walks around the block starting left. The Queen’s Arms still here, yes. He hadn’t totally lost his sense of direction — this *was* the correct block, the correct road. But no alley on its north side now.

But then, just beyond: the alley!

Turned at a right angle (to the block)? He cautiously starts down it.

More complicated than before… more doors.

But no sign of Mabel’s and his apartment. None of the number of doors he tries seem to lead anywhere atall, in fact.

Nervously tapping his good foot on the stone blocks, he phones his wife. “Com’on Mabel. Pick up. Pick up…”

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Filed under *Second Life, Heartsdale

topmost

As mentioned, Mabel and Buurb loved the 3rd floor of their potential house. A type of heaven for them, I suppose. Buurb could write and Mabel could do art. Their respective passions, besides each other of course. Or this is how they fulfill themselves through each other.

We start at the northernmost window (of 3) looking west…

… then pan out to take in a nearby chest with a smaller container, perhaps a suitcase, on top of it.

This is in the room at the top of the ladder heading up from the 2nd floor. Then below we also peek into the next room. Both contain a variety of what could be called refuge or junk, but the married couple still love the stuff and dare not throw any of it away once the house transaction is complete. Whenever that is.

Mabel often wonders who this melted girl in the portrait is. Could it be her as a child, somehow? At any rate, looking at it always reminds her of her beloved twin brother Little Big for some reason, still off fighting in the Green and White War in some distant part of the galaxy. Last she heard: Aldebaran.

More of the second room; that would be Buurb’s writing desk in the distance, which would double as a place for them to have brunch, tea, etc.

And then we have Mabel herself sitting in the 3rd room. This is projected to be her art studio where she’ll rekindle her love of painting (and drawing). But what to paint remains a big question.

Maybe that perpetually burning fuel tanker down at the gas station seen through the south window here, hmm.

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Filed under *Second Life, Heartsdale

roamings

There wasn’t much in the way of art in Heartsdale to Mabel’s disappointment. One gallery showing mainly soft core erotica — well, a lot of it wasn’t even erotica, just women posed in various suggestive manners, let’s say. But there were some other types of works mixed in here and there, like this painting called simply “Dancer” that Mabel kind of liked. And this one below named “Country Road”. When visiting, Mabel sometimes imagined traveling down this picturesque road — outta here (like in that old John Denver song).

In Collagesity, there were rumors that you could actually go inside Baker B.’s collages to different Real Lyfe locations. Maybe the same could apply here, she thought.

—–

The town had plenty of empty buildings and apartments. Mabel again wonders what it looked like in its more golden days. When it was closer in time to Collagesity. When did the split occur? Does it have something to do with the house? *Their* house? It must be, Mabel concluded some time ago.

—–

Mabel had begun to smoke. “2 packs of Lucky Stripes, Jim,” she requests to the owner of the town’s lone convenience store. “And a couple of snickers.” It was a habit born mainly of, well, boredom. Not much to do in Heartsdale, as you the reader have probably picked up. Buurb worried about her continued health, but he figured it would turn around once she had her house. Then they would be focused on fixing it up, showcasing it even for the rest of the community. Maybe open a gallery in part of the downstairs. Mabel could paint up on their favorite floor, the 3rd. Scenes of town, even. She would turn around, he believed. Returned immersion in art would aid immensely. The parts of Heartsdale that seemed sour or boring would have new light shed upon them. It all revolves around the house.

Mabel returns to their alley apartment, planning to light one up as soon as she got inside.

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Filed under *Second Life, Heartsdale

… witch

“What are you doing out there silly?” speaks Burrb through the window pane at his wife. “You’re 15 minutes late — can you hear me?” Mable nods. “You’re 15 minutes late,” he repeats.

“I was trying to find the diary,” her muffled voice sounds from outside.

“The dairy?” he playfully replies and smiles. “Down the road and to your right.” But Mable wasn’t in the mood for games and just indicates the book with the hand in her hand and goes around to the front door to enter.

30 minutes later, Mabel had spilled the wine about Mid Hazel, Karoz Blogger, Precious Snowflake, and the Ohno sim in general.

Buurb demanded a field trip.

—–

“Still here, Mabel.”

But they weren’t going to ascend that hill to the haunted Palmer Lodge in the middle of the night.

Oh no (sorry).

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Filed under *Second Life, Heartsdale, Purden/Snowlands

storied house 02

It was a beautiful house, but quite prim heavy at 195li. And that’s unfurnished. Impractical, most likely, to set up in present day Collagesity except on a temporary basis. And Mabel wasn’t going to go *back* without it, I don’t think. So it looks like they’re stuck in Heartsdale for a while longer.

Although well beyond its glory days, the town still retained some interesting landmarks. There was the coffee and sweets shop on the corner of Blown Apart and West Anglia. This is Mabel and Buurb’s favorite table within they’re sitting at here, with the great view toward their house (their house??). Mabel usually only drinks coffee. Buurb sometimes gets a whole wheat danish roll, like today. Mabel knew there wasn’t any use in trying to change Buurb’s mind over leaving, so she instead talked about New Island and how they got here. She sometimes read her associated diaries to Buurb late at night while they, let’s say, sipped cognac and munched on taffy popcorn.

It all revolved around the vinyl version of “Sometime in New York City” and the void in the center of Lennon’s solo career it represented. Slavery? That’s what they often discussed, and, yes, occasionally argued about. Very occasionally. For Mabel was against slavery of any kind in any fashion. Buurb made some qualified exceptions.

“Take the South after the Civil War,” he said today after taking the first bite of his roll and then setting it back on the small plate.

“No, don’t go there,” his wife demanded, also wishing her husband wouldn’t speak with his mouth full.

He chewed and swallowed; lightly smacked his lips. “Given 5, 7, 8 years, don’t you think President Lee would have freed the slaves himself? And the South might have been better going that route. Take carpetbaggers…”

“I *said*, I don’t want to hear it.” She ‘d have nothing negative spoken about Stove Top Lincoln. Andrew The Tailor Johnson, however, was often open for potshots. But she wasn’t in the mood this morning. She kept thinking about the house across the street. It was and wasn’t their house; another quandary. They were married there, true. But they also still lived in the trashy alley that followed from Old Church Street beside it across St. George Street at its front. The sale hadn’t been finalized. And the mortgage would be 2 full months’ wages between them (!). Could they really afford it? Were they digging a financial grave they would never emerge from? But the house! So perfect. If I could just get it to Collagesity, Mabel thought, we’d have a piece of property with no attached tax, no attached anything; that’s how things work there.

“Look at Pitch Darkly,” she said to Buurb another time on this subject. “Look at Woody (Woodmanson). Refuges… like us. The Bakers take them in, make sure they’re wanted and provided for. You’d like The Bakers, Buurb.”

“I knew Baker Blinker,” he corrected. “Or I at least knew someone who claimed to be her.”

“Oh yes,” Mable said, a pang of jealousy crossing her heart. Her Heartsdale heart. “Precious Snowflake.”

Because she was still around. We’ll revisit her soon and find out more of her story.

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Filed under *Second Life, Heartsdale