Tag Archives: Man About Time^*===

ocean view!

Things are still a bit up in the air as far as neighbors go but it’s official. I and my family of avatars live on Rooster’s Peninsula in a castle. I’ve given up premium membership and being a land owner, renting for now (4096). I was *very* pleased how much of old Collagesity I could transfer to the new property with it well under 1/2 the size. Thing is, no galleries are present, which means I’ve decided to to make it private. It is “merely” a place to hang my hat, along with acting as occasional “movie set” for the blog — and attached photo-novels of course. How’s that going? Quite swimmingly still, thanks; although the production of posts has slowed a bit in the last month or two. May be just the sheer weight/complexity of the project as it churns on and on, now reaching almost 32 1/2 individual works. Nautilus remains a focus, as I’ve stressed recently. I still live there, just in the North instead of Lower Austra. I feel the downsize is complete. I’m very satisfied. About 400 prims (land impact units) left to work with in a skybox, etc. I have room for continued experimenting.

My Nautilus master map with its 100+ pins is still around.

My Martian “city” centered by a giant golden robot statue remains (great!).

The library is still there…

… along with its Special Collections Room.

Dungeon, Table Room, Perch: all accounted for; all part of the castle.

Abbreviated version of the Kidd Tower: a little bit awkward in placement but necessary I feel to complete the deal presently.

Now… who still lives here?? Is Man About Time still in charge since Jeffrey Phillips went away? How about Mr. Babyface, Danny, and the rest of the identified Collagesity residents? Do they still have homes *here*? Good, solid questions to be answered soon enough, I’m supposing.

It’s a beautiful day in a wonderful world. As usual.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0308, Nautilus, North, Rooster's Peninsula

00320510

“So you see, Man About Town–”

“Time. Man About Time,” MAT mildly corrected.

“Yes, of course. Anyway, we don’t need to be a part of Lower Austra. We are more than capable of protecting ourselves with our large ships, *huge* in the case of the Pompelmoo here.”

“I see.” Indeed this particular boat stretched from one corner of the namesake sim to the other, darn near close to 400 meters total then.  MAT admittedly couldn’t wait to explore it more, along with the rest of the island, this Trinidad? “Did you say the name of your island here was Trinidad?” he tried to clarify.

It took Zapppa back, to when he first found the island himself. A lone painter was there. Rock painter, before they moved all the rocks to make room for the ships. Named the Captain but not because he was a naval hero or anything. Jon Carson tried to get to the bottom of it, my mate in the tiny “Annoying ZZ Mat” that made the trip from Nautilus City to the southeast, he reminisced. *Barely*. Almost sunk along the way. “Sink Sank Sunk” we nicknamed it after that, because it produced the same results over time. And now I’m with a man named Time. Funny how things go in a big circle — MAT again and all too. He’s finding out himself how special this island is. “Trinidad?” he finally answered. “Well, that depends.” It’s the same thing the Captain said all those years ago.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0510, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Trinidad

West Hel*en*

“She can control everything in Lower Austra, once it is defined, boundaries and all. But outside…”

“Gone,” she realized. “Lost.”

“Like beach comber Pepi ‘Can’ Kolya. Saved by Nauty who has knowledge of the Big Picture. The complete puzzle, pieces all in the right place. It’s because he comes from…”

“Iowa,” she finished again.

Man About Time looked over. “But you’re not Miss Ouri,” he continued mildly.

“And you’re not Baker Bloch,” she said in turn.

“Hmm.” He pondered whether to get a coke to drink. K K Cola here. Damn copyright infringement laws. Wheeler had wine. He wondered where she got it.

“I have one blue eye and one green eye — damaged,” she started again after a guzzle. “I don’t have two matching eyes like Ouri.”

“*Miss* Ouri,” Man About Time dutifully wanted to say but held his almost always mild tongue. No need to bring Texas Pete into this, his mama always said about verbal acidities. She trained him well; he absorbed everything he could from her. Poor mama, he lamented. Hanging with the angels now.

Instead: “Where did you get the wine?”

“A barrel,” she said, and then winked. I think the green eye remained open but difficult to tell. All eyes looked the same to him. After Miss Ouri.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0509, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

00320507

It was chilly up on this ridge above Kings Bishop, near the lower end of Route 13 on the western side of Lower Austra. Not as chilly as Collagesity would be this night, Man About Time ruminates, glad for a little break from all the building and shuffling about in his home town just up in the mountains a little more. Town, hmmm. Man About Town —

Anyway, the relative cold makes him think about the distance formed between creators — artists — inworld and beyond, each in their own sphere of influence and interest. He needs to let go; he needs to forgive. He’s gone very far, the 32 being the latest number reached if not finished. He’s working on it, as always.

He usually calls in Wheeler to help him, in this instance because he’s simply too lazy to rise up from his comfy sleeping bag and look around. She may come as Miss Ouri tonight, or maybe not — someone else. Once she was Alysha. He sighs, thinking of his former girlfriend, like if Thelma Lou left Barney for Sherriff Andy Taylor, attracted to the shine of the bigger badge. Another King over Bishop (or Rook) situation, then. Or a King’s Bishop anyhoot.

—–

He hears the manifestation. 10 minutes — not bad for Wheeler. He looks out to see Miss Ouri, his latest crush, sitting on the chair outside along with that creepy prick doll of hers, the cactus creature. A mascot she calls it. For the library they’re building together as a whole. He thinks of the King. He thinks of the Bishop, the Rook at best. King’s Bishop (or Rook); that’s what he is now. He’s been adopted it seems. The black and white swan urged him forward instead of back, trying to escape her own shadow self. “See down there in the library’s floor,” she said to him as Ted one night, working late on his novel instead of his dissertation which he should have been doing, pheh. But Ukraine and the Delta needed him, another camper in another camping spot. “That’s *me*.” The white swan, out of her element in special collections, could not pass through the door to the library proper without causing a shadow. It’s an old story with a familiar ending. Entrapment, much like he can’t be bothered to get out of this tent and go speak to Wheeler. He summoned her after all.

Here goes nothing, he thinks.

“Nice morning, huh?”

“If you’re going to climb out of your tent, why did you need *me*?” She’d been busy doing other things. She had a lot on her plate: grapes, kiwis, bananas, oranges and apples from the looks of it. Kactus was hungry and requested permission to dive in, which was granted.

I could stomp on it and put an end to the thing, Man About Time thought, looming above. But what would be the consequences? He decided quickly he didn’t want to find out. Wrath of Ouri might not look as pretty.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0507, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

Queen

He continues to talk to his boss even though he isn’t with him any more.

“That boat over there in that bay, Jeffrey,” speaks Man About Time mildly. “Lower Austra. But just beyond, just beyond the bay: Wild West. That’s how they slipped away from Miss Ouri, Jeffrey. They outsmarted her, which is difficult to do. Someone must know the whole map to do this. It’s like they have the entire knowledge of Nautilus itself.”

“Think,” he could hear Jeffrey Phillips in his head now, which he often does.

“That’s right, Jeffrey. (The) Thinktank (sim) is just beyond the bay. The Wild West.”

“No. *Think*.” Jeffrey often emphasized words for Man About Time in his head because he misunderstands what he’s actually trying to convey. Because Jeffrey Phillips is still around, just not physically.

“Oh okay. Think, huh?”

“Think,” he finished.

—–

“We went out on the same date. March 1, 2022. Yet he was a King and I was a Bishop at best, a Knight.”

“9 to 5, yes,” stated Wheeler Wilson to Baker Bloch at The Table, which had moved from the Blue Feather up to the Castle in De Skies, although not out of Collagesity itself. It was a conundrum because (the castle) sat in 2 completely different places on the continent at once: Lower Austra’s Collagesity and North’s Rooster’s Peninsula, with the ultimate link being glowing MOA down in the basement of each. *They* sat in these 2 positions. “I think you underestimate *your* position, though,” she continued. “Rook… you were a rook; a minor rook but a rook still. And people around you didn’t like it because you had no ambition to further your place in life. You were happy as is, just riding everything out until The End. You were stuck on a 5 which was much closer to 5 than 6 and you were satisfied. That was the basic issue. That caused the distancing.”

“I started out as a Pawn.”

“We all do,” explained Wheeler. “We all do.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0506, Crisp Sea, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Wild West

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

on Dasher

“Rooster,” he mutters, seeing the weather vane atop the barn on his peninsula. “I must think about this further.”

Full perms on the property here.

I wonder if Rooster could be related to Santa Claus?

What are you Nautilus?

Why are we here?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0501, Iowa, 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

big red machine

“Lou, be a dear and buy your old man a drink while he’s studying, would you?”

“Dad-dy,” Lou replied, arms still crossed. “We’ve been here *3* days.”

“Keep it down, keep it down,” father Osborne Well says over more in a whisper. “Other people are here too.”

Lou Well stays quiet this time.

“Weelll?” her father prompted, a typical reply and a play on their last name he loves to utter when he can. He beams a wicked smile. She still doesn’t return the smile but rises from her chair with a small huff and does what he asks. She inserts a quarter, hears a bottle drop. Or is it a can? — she can’t tell if the sound is more glassy or metallic. Queer, she realizes. And — great — she can’t get the door to open at the bottom of the thing. “It’s broke, daddy. We’ll have to go into town for your sody pop.” *Finally*, a possible way out of this prison of books for her.

“Then leave it,” he decides, learning winning over thirst and sugary desire. He’s about to uncover the deepest, darkest secrets of the great tentacled one. He confers this to his daughter.

“MOA,” she replies without thinking. “We’ve been there already. We *know* what it is.”

“Shhh,” he reprimands again about her raised voice, but then realizes she’s right. It *is* MOA he’s searching for: Most Old Ancient.

Man About Time wakes up but remembers what they said behind the wall. He’ll return another night in another dream to this spot. This portal is *key*.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0410, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, North, Rooster's Peninsula