You Seem Like A Very Neat Fellow, Will. Were Glad To Be Your Mutual :D

william,,, be honest is ur en abime thing a cult

Some (ahem, @fortunateisle) like to see it as such, but I find that to be false advertisin'!

i like the changes in the blog, the banner and profile picture are amazing!!

Thanks, pal! My sweetheart helped redecorate.

i made them, yeah. the icon is just a photo of us, but the header is one of my favorites- a forest somewhere around chicago, i think? i wanted us to have something nice to look at. if you look at it long enough you can kind of hear the leaves rustling.

Is there anything else you'd be able to tell us about that friend of yours? The one who liked DNA stuff? I don't want to say her name just in case she can hear us here ...

she's nice. i don't think she liked talking to people much unless it was about something she knew a lot about. but if you talk to her long enough about those kinds of things then eventually you learn a little about her. mal and i had this stupid little zine we made writi ng d own what ever yone was like but it went missing . there's more about her in there for new people in the abime (you don't want to b e a ne w pers on)

Wow! Like one of them gossip rags? Anythin' about me in there?

.........no ooo o

Ha! Ha! Sure you didn't got nothin' to say about me?

maybe i'm a little hea d-over-heels f or you in ther e. sorr y. i'll s h ow you if i ever fi n d it.

hidden messages in electronic boards

I was never on the manufacturin' side of things myself but my guess is if ain't wax, it ain't workin'!

what the hell is cylinder restoration

Well, as far as I wager, it's a fella askin' for advice on restorin' his wax cylinder! A way to record and play tunes back in the day.

i've been meaning to ask! do you know who made this image? it's very cool

Composited it myself from some ol' album artwork of "Will You Miss Me"! Believe it's in the style of Aubrey Beardsley illustrations!

Log #02

Second day of these memory logs. Today, Henry asked me my favorite memory. And I said I’m at this dance hall in Harlem, right? Maybe mid-twenties. Maybe the night of January 7th 1925. It’s hard to really cast my mind back that far, you know? It’s all some kinda mishmash, memories existing at the same time. Or maybe I’ve just got a real crappy memory. Well, I’m standing in a corner — must not be a huge one for parties, or maybe I knew I was a bit queer — and I remember everything glowing all golden-like. High ceilings, all decked out. It’s a gas. Dancers all crowding the floor, a man spinning his sweetheart past me as he fixes his tie with the other hand. A woman laughing to my right. The smell of booze. And that music. That swing. I feel the music surrounding me in my bones, shaking me from the inside out, just like it’s shaking everyone else in this joint. Just coasting along to the vibrations.

And then — fewer people this time. The night’s winding down, fellas are going home with their dolls. We’re giving one last hurrah for the couples still knocking it out on the dance floor. These kids are a bit more sauced now, swaying and laughing and bumping into each other. They dimmed the lights some. I’m still sticking around in my corner. Nobody by my side now. And that music. Still loud as hell, ringing out the night, shaking me from the inside out. And that’s kinda it, I told him. Great night.

………would you want to be a tumblr sexyman?

Listen, I don't wanna interrupt whatever lovely business those guys got goin' on. And no offense to them, but they're not really the kinda fellas I'm typically interested in, if ya get what I'm sayin'!

Grasshopper (1987) by Peter Blegvad from Imagine, Observe, Remember