Tag Archives: Sid Barrett Gothic^*

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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“All right, I have *two* four-handed librarians sitting at *my* Table now. Surely we can figure this out together.” No one around The Table says a thing. Curled Paper keeps staring inside the book he’s always reading. Tin S. Man stands unmoving in the corner. “Hazel… Hazelhurst. A Mrs. Hazelhurst came out of Philip Strevor’s office over in Iris just before I went in. But I didn’t see her. This *must* be Mid-Hazel.” No one says anything. “Mid-Hazel makes things go ’round and ’round, entrapping them in a bewitching circle. New Island is her ultimate creation, perhaps.” Nothing said. “Leeman’s or Leemon’s — mind you, we can only speak in Oracle terms here — anyway, Leeman’s or Leemon’s Hazel is the beginning and ending point for his fictional story nested inside the now totally and completely filled out factual story.” She indicates the screen displaying a map from the book. “He inserts *himself* inside the story, and first goes from Hazel to the Hazelhurst (Ruins) to complete his first, er, virtual watercolor… within the story. This becomes first person, not third. With advantages and disadvantages–” Bill/Wheeler throws down her hands on the table. “Okay, *someone* has to help me here. Librarian 01, I order you to speak.”

Librarian 01 thinks a spell, then offers: “eight.” He elaborates after a shorter pause. “It must have been something he ate.”

“Carrot,” speaks up Librarian 02. “Glasses.” Everyone falls silent here.

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Experiments in Soulcatching, 01



Arnold and Betsy Layne.


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Filed under *Second Life, Heterocera^^, Kentucky, Rubi, UmapS



“I have a minute, Baker Bloch, to speak with you. The Librarian told me about your curiosity. Do you even know who *I* am Baker?”

“First off, I wish you wouldn’t show up as my mother.”

“Not the point,” Wheeler returned.

“Alright,” Baker then said with an exhale. “You are David Bowie, also known to this blog as Bogota. Or at least that’s what he — you I suppose — wanted to be called at the time. How’s that for a start?”

“A good start,” she says. “A perfect start. I am David Bowie. I am the leader on all collages to come. And by collages there I mean audiovisual collages. Not these [silly] 2d-ers [polluting] your town.”

“Now that’s not very nice, er, Wheeler,” said Baker Bloch back. “I thought you liked my collages.”

“I like the ideas behind the collages. The collages themselves are not what I call art. You use protected images[ to begin].”

“Well, that’s what I’ve chosen to do. You chose to show up here as my mother, I chose to use illegal images in my art and deem them educational and non-commercial. The ideas *are* the important thing, not the surface quality or even quantity.”

“So we agree,” she says. “Your art is trash.”

“I guess it’s trash in the sense that it is bits and pieces of discarded stuff by others lumped together to make something new and hopefully interesting, idea-wise.”

“Cool enough,” she then said, putting finger to lip. “Curled Paper, you’ve been your usual silent self. What’s your opinion of this town, the art in the town? Do you think it’s trash as well? Or do you think it is worth saving in and of itself? Or do you have an opinion at all? If you’re going to sit at The Table…” But Wheeler then bit her sarcastic tongue just in time to save some grace. Curled Paper still didn’t speak. Perhaps he was already insulted?

The Librarian chipped in some thoughts. “We need to speak of the album “3 Friends”. And the attached synchronicities. They are called synchronicities instead of collages, no?”

“Yes,” Baker Bloch answered.

“Please do,” added Wheeler with some sarcasm.

“Can I say their names on this blog? I know Hucka Doobie listed them out the other day. I was here.”

“Were you?” Baker Bloch truly couldn’t remember.

“Yes,” answers The Librarian. “So… can I?” He turns to Wheeler now and repeats the question. “Can I?”

Wheeler opens her eyes wide and looks toward Baker. “It’s up to us now.”

Another Blue Feather Octopus.

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Seeing Not Seeing

Once again Baker Bloch stares out at the Martian landscape beyond Collagesity. The town will have to start exploring that landscape soon enough, he thinks, but for now we have Dr. Blood’s fascinating tales to study. Better than Blood Curdling’s! he thinks further, but then regrets dissing his favorite book (“Blood Curdling Tells of the Rubi Woods”). Dr. Blood says the woods will come back, but not before we discover the beating heart of the red orange planet. Then and only then. He adds that Mars is an aggressive orb and leaves it there.


Baker can’t help but think Collagesity’s Stone 10 holds an important clue to the dilemma at hand.


“That pattern is hypnotic.”


His favorite seat in the Blue Feather club: inundated by Martian sand. He has to sit upstairs. Syd Barrett Gothic still doesn’t want to talk about the day Mars crashed into Collagesity. He remains traumatized. “The woods are gone, the woods are gone, the *woods* are gone,” he worries over and over. He’s having great difficulty accepting the fact that his old home has simply vanished into thin air seemingly. Truth is, the woods are still very much there. It’s all about perception and what we choose and don’t choose to see.



For example, Baker could certainly *choose* to see this row of eucalyptus trees along the northern edge of E-8 right now from his Blue Feather perch.


He could have chosen to view Winnie the Pooh and his honey wagon bumping along the Martian slope behind Stone 10 just moments back. He could decide to see the danger coming forth from atop what would later become known as Chesterton Knoll.



But he didn’t do any of these things. Collagesity remains shrouded in deep orange mystery.


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Pink Think

“We are getting ready for the next step foward, Syd. You and I. Together.”


“I just had to figure out how to get rid of that inside demon. And I’m becoming a bit pink!”


“Yes, this might do for an audience. Next!! hehe.”


“Oh. Already.”


“Well, I’m not quite ready but what the heck. Let’s give this a try. Welcome Tom Busker! Bow to Syd before addressing me.”


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BF Halloween Party 01

Baker Bloch and Wheeler were the first to arrive. Baker came as Steptoe Butte, the only “costume” he owned besides the Space Ghost one, which he thought would be too obvious. Wheeler came as… well, let’s just tune into the conversation, shall we?


“I’ll cut you off at the Bowie picture, Wheeler.”

“Well… what are you going to put there, then? You can’t leave it blank for the party. What’ll it be, old crook Hayes or new crook Nixon? You’re wrong about Hayes, by the way. It was Grant who was the real asshole. Hayes is the one who ended all that asshole-i-ness. The great 3-n-1 he is. At least in the dimension I prefer to view him… attached to.” She tried to think of a better way to put that and became silent.

“Ahh, Hucka Doobie my old man. Er, woman,” Baker calls as he turns to the door. You came as yourself in the past, I see.”


“Lest anyone forget,” she said. “I was bee through and through at the beginning.”

“Along those lines, I have a surprise for you a bit later in the party, Hucka Doobie,” Wheeler offered. “And — welcome as well. But first I have to run over to BoB to take some pictures of myself. I’ll be back shortly.” Wheeler vanishes.

“Greetings Syd Barrett,” Hucka Doobie, says upon meeting the flattie at the line between the old Edwardston Building and Small Gothic Castle. “See you’re still a man on the border, eh?”


“Hold out your right hand,” a non-amused Syd Barrett Gothic responds blankly, then stamps it with a blue feather.

“Thanks Syd.” She walks over to Baker.


“So I see we’re going to have some action tonight,” she says, staring with Baker at what town residents have begun calling the Squared Circle.

“Yup. It’s the contest for Collagesity as a whole.”

“Again,” Hucka Doobie tags on.


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