Repose

Who: William Clubb (Castor) and Pollux the postcard pal
What: Grilling Kabobs and meeting in person
Where: The grills at makeout point
When: After this
Rating: TBD. Presume medium, will update/lock if necessary.
Status: Log, in progress

( Life here seemed all about new and he was just trying to embrace it. )

[Locked to "David"]

[Not bothering to anon.] Will you respond here? I'm curious to know if the postcards were an aberration for you.

[Public]

What do we all think of anonymity? Old friend, dearly beloved helper, a little social lubrication to make the world far easier to piss off and leave fuming, confess secrets and solicit help? I knew someone who liked letters that didn't belong to people anymore, old ones, crumbling to bits in shops, anonymous because the names had been left off. I didn't get it.

I've always preferred saying things openly. Such as Repose, if you could kindly fuck off with the singing the greatest hits of the Manic Street Preachers at two thirty in the morning from the side of the lake, I would be absolutely chuffed.

[Daniel W]

Writing seems right out of your book, Lord E. Did you?

[ETA: added, Janus A]

Hello, darling. Dreamed anything lately?

i miss the postcards
or
i miss Fitch

[Locked to 'Day']
[As Damian W]

Hello.

[Locked to Frank R]
Hello, Frank Rook.