Where’s Ruby Roo going?
Tag Archives: Ruby^^======+
the problem with toys (whiches)
“Let’s split this crazytown,” said Red to his cousin Grassy as they crossed the tracks and drove away from the scene…
… at the same time they just arrived.
“Whatup guys?” the amalgamation of figures in the center said in greeting, not knowing the difference.
—–
“No I’m not putting up with that,” she doubled down, remembering the spectacle from the future.
“(The situation will) clear up; get better,” countered Baker. “First try.” After a pause: “We could simply *ask* Grassy about it.”
Wheeler was thinking the same thing. Red was about to change over to green.
—–
“Aloha!” he said, garish Hawaiian shorts thankfully hidden by the table. He immediately starts staring at the book, the hand.
“Welcome back Grassy,” relented Wheeler. She looks over at Baker. She knew she would be called Flip at these meetings from now on as compensation. Or win a wrestling trip to fabled Muff-Birmingham in the far corners of space, whichever door she so chooses. She opens the door of the refrigerator to see which one.
“Coke, Grassy?” she called over while grabbing, but Grassy was no longer there. Sprite instead.
Several of them, in fact. “Here we are!” said the seeming leader of the three.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0502, Blue Mountain, City Park, Mmmmmm's, Nautilus, North, Rooster's Peninsula, Toy Avatars
retirement
It’s time to lay under the blue and white umbrella again.
Ahh. This is the life!
THIS SIM 01 revisited
He puts back on his investigating shoes as he teleports into the sim. Wall hydrant at the very epicenter, he ponders, pacing back and forth around it.
Redd, just like where he came from, this Alysha “Redd” Fox, who of course he bought dinner for, having almost *killed* her with his 57 Chevy just after he darn near drove it into that levy just minutes before on the border of Dennis and Harwich. He wasn’t drunk — it was just the mechanics of the car combined with the wonky physics of the virtual reality itself. But at least there was bounce, although he couldn’t say more about this for now. Maybe later, when the psychics arrive. Because they would.
Redd would be seen, like a bright, blooming rose. Who’s on first!?
—–
We next find him staring at an octagon shaped trampoline, a combo of 9 and 8 actually, since nine is purple as 8 is orange. But mixed up here.
He investigates remotedly.
Rainbow wheel, with rainbow sphere implied. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 reduced to 1 2 3 4, or red green blue yellow but not necessarily in that order. TILE of course. Clare should know by now. We never found her new hiding spot in the northern mountains of Snowland, though. Maybe he’ll look there next.
More remote viewing here, first…
Oh, he notes that the cars are, in order, red yellow green blue *purple* red on that Ferris wheel, purple then emphasized again seemingly. He’s taking notes in his head. He’ll write them down later. Investigating feet (and eyes) first.
Ah ha. Roses (again). Reinforcement.
Dare he?
Enigma (machine). Orange revealed. 6th. VI.
Freefall.
But he keeps landing at the same spot. Endless loop!
Must be something about VI.
Pretty good, huh, Ruby?
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0315, Hills of Bill^, Maebaleia/Satori, Virgin Islands
00310310
Baker suddenly finds himself behind plants again, bobblehead no more. Thank the Gods! But how?
He remembers the islet, the beach beyond, the so called friends of his work, of his life even. All becoming distant to him. Who’s left? Well, the core, Our Real Life and Our Second Lyfe. In real life I am Baker B., maker of (audiovisual) synchs and some other stuff. In virtual reality: this guy. He seems indestructible, ha.
*Ruby*, in Fantasie form, he recalls also standing across the water. Summoner of drawing Waldrop. Waldrip. Drup? Maybe all of them. Fe fi fo fum. Waldrop (whatever) lives in Fio Fum immediately below Spirit Witch. Another island, only a bit larger than the one he just, er, transferred from. He checks the elevation: 1000 even. He checks the coordinates: still in Moomit.
He moves around the plants and encounters this.
Was he dead? he had to ask himself. Only one way to find out. Proceed forward.
But it doesn’t look good.
00310308
We start again not at Ruby’s left leaning wagon in Spirit Witch where Waldrop was summoned but instead at the nearby community of Bear occupying a tiny island in Moomit Bay directly below Monevole. Baker Bloch bares his head in deference to the great King of the island: Ted, of course. Ted Bear. You had to bare something, he gathered, to have an audience with him. The hat would do, Ted indicated to the newest visitor to his islet kingdom. Thank you, he added. He was glad of visitors and wished them 24/7. He was an extreme extrovert, thus his isolation in the bay as everyone around him tired of his constant visiting and hovering. We’ll come to you now, they all said around him, wishing him well on his new venture. He didn’t understand at first, cried a lot, but then came to accept his “imprisonment.” *Selective* extroversion, that’s the key, they said, still gathered around him on the shoreline but shortly to leave, back to their spouses and siblings to heave a big collective sigh of relief that Ted wouldn’t come a knocking on their door tonight or tomorrow night or hopefully ever again. Something is not right with you, they said, almost at the end. This is the only way. And then they were gone. Ted turned on the radio. Storm a brewing. More tears fell. The lighthouse blinked on and off at his bidding but there was no way to go inside. The toys down at the beach played on. His only companions now except for the occasional visitor, the ones who cared. Ted foresaw in the palm leaves the coming of a tall, white eyed stranger, a cowboy, no a spaceman. Half and half, although he wasn’t suppose to use that phrase in front of anyone else. Keep it to yourself, they also said that day they left him on that islet, never to return again to normal existence.
So he was not surprised at the appearance of me, Baker Bloch or Baker B., who fit the description of the prophecy. “You have to bare…” he said to me because it was part of his sentence on the islet. Like I said. “… something,” he completed, looking me over good, picking me apart even. I took off my hat. It seemed to do the trick, like I also said before.
Looking at my shiny dead dome, he decided I should go one or two or five steps further and turn into a bobblehead of myself. “This is so we don’t feel you are talking *down* to us,” he says in his bear voice, tamed from years playing with human children. He hasn’t eaten anybody since ’62. Not since he was an actual bear, himself shot in ’65 and stuffed into a toy. He was soo happy at first! A toy! he cried. I can do *anything*, play with anyone, *be* with anyone. Humans watch out! And they did. And so he was here.
So *I* did, and he promptly gave me what he declared was my own island as a reward… just right over here within close earshot; they could talk all the time, he said, trying not to show too much excitement. I had successfully become one of them, whatever that actually meant.
The wrong Ruby suddenly appeared on the beach across the water. I realized I had been trapped as well. I believe she may have been cackling but it could have been the sound of a sudden gush of cold wind blowing across my bare head atop my now diminutive body. Then the others appeared…
I was no extrovert but it was the same with me. They were irritated and they decided to isolate. I counted at least 7 people on the shoreline who I thought were true friends.
(to be continued)
It started with an outline, then filling in the details which continues.
“Where are we on the map, Baker B.? It’s very important we keep up with the map. We’ve come soo far.”
“Let’s see.” Alter.
“We’ve just found out that Elvira, you know, the aunt of Mrs. Ordinary who lives up in Chapel Vile over on the Corsica continent…”
“Yes?”
“She lives at or near Terriergate, the art gallery in Terriergate. This would be on the very western tip of the Lower Austra peninsula, maybe putting it in the Wild West category instead. You see (W.), I’m having a hard time still dividing the regions of the Nautilus continent up.”
“Do you think the elimination of Collagesity would help?” I waited for more and it didn’t come.
“What do *you* think?” I ventured in the gap. Nothing still.
—–
“A spirit is summoned by a witch in Spirit Witch,” I declared.
“Start there,” a faint voice comes from the darkness in the distance.
Island Art revisited
https://bakerbloch.com/2018/09/27/79984/
How could this be the same background painting as mine? Think, Original Ruby. Think!
Is it the woods? she then turned around in her mind. Like a dancer. Impossible. Right? That would mean…
“… everything is connected, yes,” spoke W., in my head at last. Now maybe I can get some work done (!).
—–
The tableau over there by the same artist. This is me (!). Ruby, the dancer in or of the woods. Tree. Red and green in buckets being used to paint the bottom — the roots — but then blue and yellow being poured on the top — the leaves. And the 3 spherical creatures accomplishing the art?
Wood creatures, perhaps. Persimmons. 199, if not 200. Unch. Living Tree. The woods still have power (!). Even though I don’t live next to them any longer. Collageisty is on Nautilus now, as of novel 13. This is from novel 10, when the woods were still strong and omnipresent. There’s a void…
“What is the void?” spoke W. again. I knew I had to get down and examine the art of the gallery more closely. There be the answers. WOOSH.
Yes, that book. Not mine, but…
Alysha’s.
It reminds me of the tesseract.
Down to the first floor…
I’ve seen this before too.
Maybe this in Dennis.
Which might explain this nearby.
Hmm.
I’m changing.
I’m changing.
I’m changing.
Done.
The wrong Ruby winked out. POOF.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0305, Lands End, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, New Island^, Omega^^, Wild West
Silversides:
Baker Bloch hiding behind a big potted plant at the rental plaza, just trying to get an idea of who passes through these here parts. None spotted in the time he was there.
Just dummies around.
He’d missed the appearance of Ruby — Alien version — by a country mile, let’s say. Despite the lack of pavement where the Black Lake Bunch usually hang out in the Chicken Pen, Jen had covered her dusty, dirty tracks well, with lady of the night Nancy Pantsy doing her part 02. I recall little Alysha listening to it all from her own hiding place in The Burro, another alley across from the first. And Dogg… who could forget Dogg? I didn’t.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0116, Nautilus, New Mexico, North, Slaashsides
Taylor
We are almost certain upon passing that this orange clad guy is welcoming us, the viewer, to Iowa. And the 2 little, alert dogs to his right (our left), one black and one brown? Welcomers as well?
But in the next photo we become confused, as the waver is reflected in the window of a passing red car. Is the driver of the car instead being acknowledged, his or her return wave masked by the reflection of the person waving back? There could be stories layered within stories here. The 2 little dogs remain, alert as ever. It’s as though they aren’t even real.
Happy Ruby?:)
Sunklands 