Tag Archives: Mabel

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These days Young Ruby often sits atop the Rose 01 dune, aka the Blue Rose Dune, and meditates on her surroundings:

Eraserhead Man’s cottage to the south and its Rabbit Hole portal, now fronted by a small grove of palms…

… Axis’ supposed castle to the west…

… but then an even higher castle across Route 9 that Ruby speculates may his actual home in a bluff, this Man in the High Castle, after all. But maybe both castles are bluffs…

… since we also have the moving castle, the island’s Monster as some call it, including her Aunt Annie.  It almost invariably appears to abductees/visitors in or around the Wastelands. More on that soon.

Poor Annie, Ruby thinks. Lost in a quagmire of undifferentiated pills, dance, and sex now. Like being covered in bees with no whirlwind plan for escape.

She should go visit Karl over in the Gloomy Gus after this; get a measure of how he’s holding up. That way she can also stop by the duplicate Scarlet Creative Sylvia House and see if Mabel is, by chance, home. She’d like to catch up with what’s happening over in Heterocera these days. And her doppleganger.

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island

Tale of Two

“What you writing there b-b-boss?” asks Marty Claflin, formerly known as Pot Head.

“Oh just some ideas about our business,” replies Jay Woodhull, formerly Sheriff. The Sheriff. But his law upholding days are over for now.

“M-Mabel coming back tonight?”

“Oh, I doubt it. She has to sing at the Cult of Oo’d in Collagesity tomorrow. She told me she’d most likely be staying over there tonight to save prep time in the morning.”

“G-g-good.”

Jay puts down his pen and stares at Marty. “Why’d your studder come back? Hey, look over there… out the bay windows,” he says suddenly while pointing. “Someone’s coming.”

Marty’s heart began racing. “W-w-where?”

While Marty’s head was turned, Jay took the opportunity to knock the crap out of it with his metallic left hand. “OW!” he yelled, but with no studder. Jay’s quick remedy had worked.

“Thanks,” Marty managed after a moment of rubbing. “I think.”

“No problem, Marty.” He began writing on his notepad again. “Now about that business plan…”

—–

Meanwhile in Mabel’s duplicate (and original) Scarlet Creative Sylvia House in Collagesity, she sits on her DaD Design knitted pouf freebie and stares out the front window into the woods, trying to spot Unch, an old game. It’s good to be home, she thinks while continuing to peer and squint. Too bad I can’t stay.

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island, Rubi

put-out-bay

“Interesting art, Mrs. Fogg. Are those Second Lyfe images?”

“Always,” Wanisa Fogg would usually reply to such a question, but presently she was crying. Profusely. Mabel’s red violin she had found earlier in the day lay central on the table. The fog always swirling around her was as thick as it had been in many a year. Grieving fog. Even after all this time.

For this was what her seafaring spouse was always looking for. Perfection, he termed it. But it never came; was never collected, crumpled and ruined, on the ocean floor, much less bobbed up on the surface in absolutely pristine shape. May 28, 2018. A magical day in Mrs. Wanisa Fogg’s life. This is when she learned the truth about her husband’s death. And also his rebirth. On Yd Isle.

“Hi! I’m a talking violin!” it said.

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island

Yd Bay revisited 02

“Hold on. What’s that over *there*?”

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island

Yd Bay revisited

“I have delicious sandwiches over here, Mr. Leeman. Mr. Leemon. And watermelon…” Mabel knew it was no good. If this *was* a spell, the theoretical creator of New Island itself was mired deep. He was simply immobile now. But still the resemblance to Smelly Santy couldn’t be denied. She had checked earlier in the day — just after the sun rose — and taken snapshots. She went over and compared again, “show attachment” option on.

Yup, they’re the same.

She looks over at Volkswagen Gurl’s house, gleaming white bright in the noonday sun. No sign of the chatty owner, though.

Mabel then gazes north into Yd Bay and the small isle there, about the same size as much more noted Fisher or Fishers Isle to the south, but 3 palms and the truth this time, ha, instead of 4. Linden palms 1 and 2, as she’s currently checking. Fishers Isle’s palms are mesh objects in contrast.

She decides to fly over.

Snorkling comes to mind again while she stands upon it– exploration of the sea life surrounding New Island. That’s a thicket of purple Irish Moss sticking out over there, for example. She can see this happening soon.

And then another island a little beyond. Larger, but no palms this time.

Yd Bay, and another thicket of Irish Moss within. The great chunk of cheddar that ended the life of Thadeus Fogg must have been situated just between me and that point of land, Mabel speculates, trying to recall the tragedy as described in the “New Island Gazette”, then a 20 page publication instead of the 5 it has dwindled to in present times. She wonders how the Widow Fogg is doing.

And decides to pay a call. Maybe she would know more about Leeman or Leemon. Or maybe Mid-Hazel?

Permanent bay dweller Timothy Sprawled saw it all, but he’s been unable to relay what actually happened for a long time. Decades and decades.

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island

centerpiece

Martian Mabel so desired to remain Queen of Collagesity on “Earth”, but she knew she had other responsibilities for now. New Island would stay an always perceived/felt aberration, to her and others, unless she came here and helped resolve the whole situation. This morning she invited closest confidant and former Mission resident Turchin McGurchin over for counsel; her right hand man in many ways. The Mission project had been aborted and Precious Snowflake’s Rainbow Sphere files moved to a safer location.

“Roger Pine Ridge represents a problem,” Mabel continues. “He’s looking for them.”

Turchin McGurchin tears off another piece of his cheese croissant and gobbles it up quickly, like someone else would do it for him if he didn’t act fast. Mission training in effect here. “Roger is useless,” he then says, mouth still full and chewing away at too big a chunk for its space. “Our joint user Baker B. had to move the whole Sunklands operation from Ink, Arkansas to Ink, Missouri because of him, but to no avail. He tried pushing him into the big sink there — no good again. He unwisely gave away a server to Sunklands Ink in Marked Tree, Arkansas and now needs it back. The Reality Module of the blog is currently inoperable. Not even Dr. I.C. Yourinsides can help.

“But we’ll need her later.” Mable pauses, looks over at Annie’s nudes displayed in Swanson’s Art Gallery next door to her right. Turchin follows her stare. “We’ll have to cut them out of the picture.”

“Which one?” the grizzly old man ponders. “You mean Annie’s pictures as a whole? You mean the *bits*?”

Mabel reconsiders. “Yes,” she finally speaks.

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island

Collagesity these days

Business was down at the Bodega Market in SoSo Mall, thanks mainly to all the attached, empty apartments due to tighter prim restrictions on Wheeler Wilson’s land in Collagesity (1024 square meters, down from Baker Blinker’s 1536). New manager Cyborg Kathy (Kathy Crowder to her family) usually closes up shop at 4 these days, but that’s okay. It gave her an excuse to go back to night school and finish her degree in Prison Reform from local institute Sam Parr State College, original president Karoz Blogger’s final gift to the area. Just over the hill and hang a right. Or was it a left?

But in other parts of Collagesity, things have picked up. In The North, we now have a new church where formerly sat Knight’s Castle, which hadn’t been worked on in a while. Karoz Blogger’s old and long hope of making TILE the official religion of town hasn’t really panned out, so we needed to fill a spiritual void now that he is gone. The Cult of Oo’d might just be the ticket, but we’ll see. We’ve already visited the interior in a recent post (“feathered”), peering through the eyes of two time challenged Rabbits. I’m eagerly looking forward to see what else develops from it. I know Mabel is itching to do her best Montana impression for the congregation soon. And a free bag of popcorn to the first 5 parishioners who arrive on Sunday. Or was it Wednesday?

Whoa Baker Bloch! You have both guns *and* drugs on you. Do you think you could sneak by trained door sniffer Wendy O’Riley that easily? I didn’t think so, ha ha. He’s only doing more akking for a blog post.

And then Mabel has a new home (!). It’s not nearly as large as the similarly styled house she so loved in Heartsdale, but in time I know she’ll grow to appreciate it almost as much. Now whether current hubby Buurb will be there to enjoy it with her remains a question to be asked. Turchin McGurchin, understanding Buurb like he does, fears the worse. But even if this happens, I feel Mabel has a strong support group in Collagesity. Turch is up at the Mission next door, and Woody Woodmanson is right behind her in his perpetually snow topped house. She has superior neighbors. And then Pitch Darkly, Baker Bloch, and the rest are right around as well. She’ll be fine. I should add that the house is set up at about the exact same place she lived back in January through March of last year, before her move to Heartsdale with Buurb. She’s coming home, in essence. Back to the border of her beloved woods.

Then, and to Mabel’s complete excitement (she’s inspired!), the Red Umbrella gallery featuring baker b.’s collage series of Sam Parr, Embarras and Stonethrow has returned to Collagesity, taking the place of the TILE Temple on the northern edge of town.

Last and perhaps not least, the TILE Labyrinth remains, having been moved to the basement of Fal Mouth Moon from the now derezzed temple. Baker Bloch warns Mabel that this basement is the main way to her house, but she’s okay with the idea. She plans to walk the labyrinth as much possible, which would certainly be an improvement from before when it was rarely used.

The Rainbow Sphere on the 2nd floor of the Mission is gone, a temporary apparition. But the related files on Precious Snowflake’s hard drive remained in the Heartsdale-to-Collagesity transition, and Mabel as well as Turch keep studying and learning. Another kind of school, in effect. TILE has not died but merely transformed.

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Filed under *Second Life, Rubi