At what point do I stop being platonically yours and start being just yours...
The Bowery Presents
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untitled

titsay
Color Me Curious
Cosmic Funnies
Not today Justin
Doug Jones
No title available
$LAYYYTER
The Bright Sessions

oozey mess
Fai_Ryy
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

Origami Around
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

Love Begins
sheepfilms

ellievsbear
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵

seen from Venezuela
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@pitwickofnowhere
At what point do I stop being platonically yours and start being just yours...
Ah Septimus and peanut, I see preparing Somewhere is going well
The cat is going to be so mad at me later.
Day number: 6,352
17 years, 4 months, and 22 days since rebirth
Spring has come to Nowhere, which is a tell tale sign that winter is coming. Jack tells me him and the rest of the doctors are making preparations for when winter comes for they will almost definitely grow complacent with the temperatures as is typical.
So once again I find myself coming on a quest. This time not by foot with my band of merry men. But by boat with what remains of my family.
Where have you gone my family? I cannot remember what you were like before. I know I ran away into wonderland, became the hatter, what did you become I wonder?
So again, I seek out Jack White. Not the musician. My Jack. This time continuing with my studies as I do.
I will discover many things on this trip, perhaps I might even discover myself and what happened to me those weeks ago,
Septimus comes with me, bringing with him his new friend Peanut.
So let us bring this new chapter forward.
Yours
E.A Pitwick.
The cat has been on a one cat mission to sit in a laptop box. He has now manged it.
He doesn’t fit. But damn right is he sitting
Favourite aesthetic: trying to choreograph fight scenes in my bedroom but I’m woefully unathletic
And now it's time for every cat owner's favourite game: Why Are You Wet?
I found a book that summarises the relationship between my situationship, @florencesocks and myself.
Me petting the cat: why are you wet, it’s July, it’s not rained? Your tongue can’t be that wet? Why are you wet?
When I’m in bed I play with my cat by moving my feet under the covers and he tries to catch them on top. My duvets three inches thick so I don’t get hurt.
Anyway the little shit developed object permanence today and went under the covers and decimated my foot.
On Jack White (Not the musician)
Like the best people in this world, I go by two names.
Beatrice Keats (BeaKeatsOfficial)
E.A Pitwick
I run these two blogs side by side; both are based on actual events, and one of them is entirely fictional, and the other one is not.
I post details about my life, my dad and writing to BeaKeatsOfficial.
Whereas Pitwick Of Nowhere is my main blog and serves as a narrative detailing the life of Pitwick, who, 17 years ago, was resurrected and now seeks to document the information sent to her by a mysterious figure from her past. Subsequently, Pitwick is stuck in a sort of limbo, remembering people from her life and trying to contact them. The ones you have met are:
Alice
Florence
DofE group
Jack White
All of these people (bar Jack) are sort of based on real-life people.
So who actually is Pitwick...
Pitwick is a self-insert archivist that I use in my writing (I write novels in my free time; I'm waiting to publish, but the publisher has closed submissions). Pitwick has one goal in life/death, and that is to document what's happening around her. Pitwick never narrates; she just writes epigraphs. In other words, Jack White sends her information, usually diary entries from himself or people he's known, and Pitwick compiles it together.
Who is Jack White in the narrative
Jack is Pitwick's oldest surviving friend; within the narrative, I portray him as a vampire who's stuck in his early twenties. Jack and Pitwick meet on a psychiatric unit in the 1960s, and he sends Pitwick information to try to cobble together what's actually happened.
Who is Jack White IRL
Great question, wish I could tell you.
A few years ago, just before my writing really started getting somewhere, I ended up in an outpatient psychiatric facility trying to get counselling. I'd recently gone through what my therapist described as quite a traumatic event.
As is typical with such traumatic events, I don't actually remember what happened before, during or for about four to six weeks after. The one 'memory' I do have is of meeting a 17-year-old psychology student with medical aspirations named Jack outside of a disabled toilet in the outpatient psych facility.
The thing is, everyone who was there says this didn't happen. I suspect Jack was probably a dream that I had at some point because the timing is a bit off, and also I haven't the foggiest why we were both waiting outside the disabled loo. I have a tendency to have really vivid dreams, which do get confusing between reality (Freud would love me). Real or not, Jack W is a far cry from the Jack I met outside the toilet. I don't actually know anything about the real Jack aside from that he was on an outpatient psychiatric unit for some reason, studied psychology at A-level (I think he said his other subjects were biology and biomedical science, which is a combination of subjects one of the colleges near me offers). but honestly, I have no idea.
He might be real, he might not. Right now, he exists in my brain, this tumblr blog and some manuscripts.
For any questions about the narrative you want answered by Pitwick/in charecter then please go to @pitwickofnowhere
Any you want by me irl (bea) go to @beakeatsofficial.
Asks are open on both.
Apologies for the long ramble, hopefully I can offer more context when my publisher gets through to me (both blogs are 95% for fun, but there is an element that is for PR). But thank you for joining me with these people I've built (or not built) and the world I've been trying to create,
Welcome to Nowhere.
Thank you for joining us.
Yours,
Beatrice Keats
Damn you didn't need to call me out like that bro.
Not cool dude.
Not cool at all.
I feel a lot of sympathy for Jack White because when push comes to shove he had to lead a DofE expedition he didn’t want to be in charge of for three months.
I feel like I need to specify that whenever I mention Jack White, I am not referring to the musician but the guy I met in the outpatient psych ward who may or may not exist?
I feel a lot of sympathy for Jack White because when push comes to shove he had to lead a DofE expedition he didn’t want to be in charge of for three months.
It is illegal in England to handle salmon in suspicious circumstances.
Could you also call those circumstances… fishy?
Lamb to the slaughter,
Kill your father and daughter,
There’s no way to outrun,
Save mother and son.
Here I arrive in Elsewhere, where the hills are tall and sleep.
I’d rather stay here sleeping amongst the grass and sheep
Will you pray for me
When I'm gone?
Or is this the eternal dark without a dawn?
Who will pray for you (Who will pray for me)
When your body is gone? (When my body is gone?)