the first chapter of Moby Dick rewritten in tiresome modern idiom
CHAPTER 1. Loomings.
Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - it's none of your business how many - being mostly broke, and bored with the land part of the world, I thought I would sail around a little and look at the watery part of the world. I'm probably the most mentally healthy person you know. Whenever I feel my face getting grim; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself accidentally reading the ads in the window of funeral homes, and following funeral processions through traffic; and especially when I'm hangry, and only my extremely strong moral principles stop me from deliberately going out in public and methodically slapping people's earbuds out - then I know it's high time to get to sea, ASAP. This is my substitute for getting in fights. I'm too mentally healthy to kill myself; I quietly and considerately put myself on a ship and sail myself away instead. There is nothing surprising in this. Everyone feels exactly the same way, and if they don't, they're lying.
You think I'm lying? Exhibit A: a city. Go to your local coastal city. Everyone is looking at the water. They drive over from other neighborhoods just to come to the water. They make a day of it. They're not doing anything, they're just staring at the ocean. Why? Is it because they all work office jobs? No! Here come more of them! They cram themselves up to the edge of the water and stare at it. WHAT DO THEY WANT? WHAT ARE THEY LOOKING AT. Perhaps the ships themselves all packed together, each one with several compasses on it, creates some kind of critical mass - all of the small compass-magnets on all the ships in the harbor combining into one really big magnetic field - and the people get sucked into the field and trapped there. That's science.
Exhibit 2: the countryside with lakes in it. Every path you follow in the countryside brings you to some water, such as a stream. There is magic in it. If you take your standard fool with ADHD dissociating in the middle of a supermarket and put them outside and give them a shove, they'll automatically lead you to water (if there is any nearby) (try it). Another good experiment to try is to get lost in the great American desert in a caravan supplied with a metaphysical professor! Try it in the great American desert at home!
Yes, as everyone knows, meditation and water are a match made in heaven. Married forever. That's science.
Here's an artist who wants to paint you the dreamiest, most enchanting landscape. What does he put in it? Trees, meadow, cows, a cottage with smoke coming from the chimney, obviously. He will probably put a path in it and make lots of triangular mountains in rows and have them be different shades of blue (naturally.) But there's gotta be a stream in it. Go visit the prairies in June, and wade for forty miles through knee-deep through tiger lilies. What's missing from this picture? Water!
If Niagara Falls was made of sand instead of water, would you travel your thousand miles to see it? Why would a guy given a handful of cash have trouble deciding whether to buy a coat (which he needed) or go to the beach? Why are all the best, healthiest, sexiest and most mentally healthy people obsessed with the sea? (You get me.) When you were first on a boat, did you not succumb to VIBES? Consider ancient Persia. Consider ancient Greece. They understood about vibes, and also gods.
SURELY ALL OF THIS IS NOT WITHOUT MEANING.
And still deeper the meaning of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all! You get me! You understand it now.
Now, when I say that I am in the habit of going to sea whenever I get weird, don't you dare imply that I buy a ticket and get on a boat. I have never had money in my life. How dare you. Anyway I don't go as a passenger - that's bougie, and something boring people do. Passengers never have a good time. And although my C.V. is incredible - I go to sea SO MUCH, you guys, I have lots of experience - I don't go as a boss, or a cook. That sounds like far too much work. Hard work. Disgusting, respectable, bougie, and far too responsible. I can literally only look after myself. Do not ask me to look after ships or shit. In fact, I have only a vague idea of what a ship is. There's so many different kinds of ships - don't get me started and DO NOT GET INVOLVED. Also, I'm allergic to glory.
It's kind of attractive to go as a cook. I mean, I'm allergic to glory and there's some glory attached to the position of the ship's cook, but, like, you're not management-track and so it's still credible. But I don't really want to cook (say) roast chicken. I really fucking love to eat roast chicken. I'm one of the best at doing it actually. I really appreciate when people go out of their way to butter, season, baste and roast a chicken for me. Picture a roast chicken and I am Looking Respectfully at it. Maybe something more, maybe I'm worshipping it. Don't make this weird. If you want to get weird about my relationship with roasted chicken, why aren't you getting weird about the ancient Egyptians? They ate roasted hippos (look it up) and the pyramids were basically pizza ovens. So it's pretty hypocritical to think that I'm being weird about roasted chicken when I've never made mummies out of chickens or built a religious pizza oven dedicated to honoring them: check and mate, haters.
Anyway - I like to go to sea as a manual laborer. A simple sailor. Salt of the earth… er… sea. Yeah, true: as a job it sucks. They make you jump around, order you around, treat you like shit. They expect you to jump around the boat like a grasshopper. And yes, at first, this sucks. It's degrading, especially if you come from a middle-class family. Worse, it's awful if you've already had some kind of professional job before signing on to be the dirt on the boss's boots - like, if you went to college and worked as a teacher and actually got kids to pay attention to you, really feeling this connection to work/teaching/identity or some shit, and now you are just literally the scum on this captain's boots, in the lowest possible job in the world. It hurts! It hurts your dignity. But the hurt, and also the dignity, both wear off in time.
So what if some old bastard sea captain orders me - ME! - to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What does that indignity amount to, compared to the shit in the Bible, compared to the shit in the news, compared to the shit everyone else has to take. Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything the less of me, because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that particular instance? Who ain’t a slave? Tell me that. We're all just serfs under capitalism, right, so why not just be honest about it: I prefer the honesty. Anyway, however the old sea captains may order me about - slapping and punching of course - I have the satisfaction of knowing that it's the same experience everyone else on Earth has, but more honest. Everyone else in the world is being served the exact same way. Either in a physical or a metaphysical way - sometimes people get the shit beaten out of them in person, sometimes online, sometimes emotionally, it happens to you in EVERY JOB, you sign on to get pushed around and slapped in the teeth: so the point is that when you're a sailor, it's a clean and honest slap. All the workers of the world share the same universal slap to the face that gets passed round, one slap passed all 'round the chain, like paying it forward, but it's a slap; and we should all accept this Universal Slap as the price of living, and then offer each other healing back massages, brother to brother, and slap each other and then kissed the places we slapped, and be happy.
I could examine that but I'm not going to.
Anyway: I always go to sea as a sailor. I've said that already. You're welcome. BUT THE POINT IS, they pay you. If you're a passenger, they don't pay you, at least, not that I've ever heard of [citation needed] (do they pay passengers?? Is there a job I can get where I can be a passenger and get paid?? Look this up.) Yeah so passengers have to pay. And there is all the difference in the world between paying and being paid. The act of paying is perhaps the most uncomfortable infliction that the two orchard thieves entailed upon us. (That's Adam and Eve. You get it.) But BEING PAID. GETTING PAID IS THE BEST. NOTHING COMPARES TO GETTING PAID. EVERYONE LOVES THAT SHIT. Which is surprising, since we also apparently believe that money is the root of all evil, and isn't there something in the bible about "no rich people can get into heaven," right? And yet it's universal, literally everyone loves payday. Ah! How cheerfully we send ourselves to hell.
Finally, I always go to sea as a sailor (I've said this already) because it's FRESH AIR AND EXERCISE. Okay so think about ships. Normally, bosses stand on the "bridge" thing, and because we're sailing a boat, the nose is going into the wind and the butt part of the boat is at the back. That's how wind works. But if you think about it, winds usually go in one direction more than other directions (unless the men have been eating beans and farting: it's Pythagoras, look it up) SO if you're a boss standing on the boss-deck, the wind is blowing FROM the sailors TOWARDS you, and YOU ARE ACTUALLY BREATHING THE AIR THAT SAILORS ALREADY BREATHED. The boss THINKS he breathes it first, but he doesn't. He gets the air at the BACK of the boat and sailors get the air at the FRONT. So it's better to be at the front of the boat (sailor) for health reasons. This is a metaphor for life and work, etc.
But I have smelled the sea lots of times as a paid sailor and WHY I should decide to go on a whaling expedition - ok so you know how there's an invisible police officer of the Fates who has me under constant surveillance, who secretly dogs me, and influences me in some unaccountable way? YOU get me. You know him. "The poor FBI agent tasked with reading my search engine history" YOU GET ME. Anyway, "Ishmael, why, after having a perfectly well-reasoned, and very smart of you, part-time job as a spontaneous random sailor, did you decide to escalate that to joining a WHALING EXPEDITION, which is worse in every way?" Well, ask my fucking secret FBI agent, he can answer better than anyone else. Including me. You get me. Also, obviously, this was predestined, part of the Universe's Grand Programme for its talent show, which was all scheduled way before our time. The concept of sending me on the whaling voyage comes in as a kind of interlude or solo between the main performances of the Universe's great talent show. I bet it was advertised llike,
"PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION OF THE UNITED STATES EMBROILED IN ONGOING LEGAL DISPUTE.
Whaling voyage by some guy called Ishmael.
BLOODY BATTLE IN AFGHANISTAN."
Like a commercial break in between the big acts. A filler episode. Lightens the load for everyone else. Though I can't explain why the stage managers - the Fates - chose such a shitty role for me, a WHALING VOYAGE of all things, when it feels like others were given magnificent parts in high tragedies, and short and easy parts in genteel comedies, and jolly parts in farces - it seems a little unreasonable at first. Why doth Ishmael get shat upon, etc. But then I think about all the circumstances, the plot points and motivations that were cunningly presented to me under various disguises - FBI agents, bouts of random hanger, gay awakenings, you get me - and you can see that actually, I was set up. And worse, between them all, these Fates and Circumstances conspired to make me believe it was all my own choice and good judgment. Is Free Will an illusion? Are my decisions bad? We will NEVER know because I, Ishmael, am just a little guy that the Universe plays head games with.
One of the ways the Universe tricked me into starring in this performance and then mocking me for it was the overwhelming idea of the great whale himself (whaling expeditions usually contain whales.) Such a portentous and mysterious monster roused all my curiosity. Then of course, if you have a whale, you have the wild and distant seas where the whale rolls around with his body-the-size-of-an-island; the dangers and nameless perils of the whale; whales are also found in interesting places I haven't seen; this all tipped me over the edge. Maybe normal people could've resisted, but I am tormented with an everlasting itch for obscurity. I hate everyone else's oceans. I want the forbidden seas.
You know The Horrors? Of course you do. You might be surprised that I, the most mentally healthy person you've ever met, a person who is self-aware enough to go to sea when they're at their fucking limits, a guy who likes fresh air and manual labor and normal things, is familiar with The Horrors. Well, you'd be surprised. I know what's good, I'm an extrovert. But I'm still quick to perceive The Horrors. And how I deal with the horrors is a very extroverted thing: I'm social with them, if they'll let me. It's smart to be on good terms with The Horrors. You should always be on good terms with your permanent neighbors. That's how extroverts deal with The Horrors, and I recommend it.
I think that's enough explanation for why I welcomed the whaling voyage. The great flood-gates of the wonder-world swung open, and in the wild figments of imagination that pushed me into doing it, the whales came marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah. They marched into my innermost soul in endless processions and occupied it, you see, I was quite helpless under this occupation - I consented to the haunting and the whales marched in to haunt me - and amidst them all was one grand shrouded white phantom, like a snowy mountain in the air.
You get it.
You know how it is, with whales.
(read the actual first chapter of Moby Dick here: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/2701/2701-h/2701-h.htm)
So due to other Moby-Dick bookbinding reasons I was remembering this post and then I of course also remembered I have the power to do uh. this.
illustrations (including cover) from the Rockwell Kent edition (1930)
the truly important thing to remember when typesetting a tumblr post is matching the seriousness of the text (you get it) and i think Ishmael would approve and MAYBE just maybe when i finally typeset the whole darn brick i'll pick up the vibes from this post and this typeset and just CONTINUE it in the actual text so thank you @elodieunderglass for this beautiful nonsense
I was going more for "the modern influence of the translator superimposed upon the traditional forms of the original" but your interpretation is MUCH funnier
You, a literary sophisticate: the modern influence of the translator superimposed upon the traditional forms of the original
Me, a clown: herman melville LIVES and has invented an elaborate fake backstory to give himself free rein to write the gay horse racing stories he has always dreamed of
Because @ouidasart just quite sensibly posted that fabulous Daniel da Silva art, I am inspired to tell the six of you who don't already know about it what I did artwise in the KJ Charles fandom, to wit: All the world knows the covers of the Society of Gentlemen series are wretched, right? Of course right. So I . . . made better ones:
I mean to say. I don't flatter myself that I'm any sort of professional, but anyone who has read even one of those books can probably identify all six of my guys and none of the four in the stock photos—on top of which, I happen to think my series looks more like a series, what with the titles in the same size and arrangement on each cover rather than just slapped on there any which way someone felt like.
It is also Known that these volumes are only available digitally. Never been printed. But you know what you can do with a little initiative?
That's right: You can typeset and print and then bind some goddamn books.
If you're feeling extremely adventurous, you can go ahead and make a custom slipcase for a whole box set, why not. (Stay tuned for that, because I'm coming up against the image limit.)
Right: the follow-up. (Which Tumblr just ate! I hope it was delicious. I'll try to reconstruct.)
If you get the notion to make a custom slipcase for a box set, you're going to have to line it as well as cover it. If you're me, and you've just laid out three four books and designed three four covers [stay with me just a little longer], your artistic capabilities are about creaking under the unaccustomed strain by this stage.
But you don't just decide to bind paperbacks by hand and then do it and make a box set snd that's that. You work up to it, starting with a couple of notebooks made of quartos of printer paper and covered with cut-up cereal boxes before doing four copies of the real thing—
—the fourth volume of which, by the way, was the 0.5 novella and the 2.5 and 3.5 short stories bound together in a wee omnibus.
And then you keep one set for yourself, of course, and you ship one to the person whose idea it was in the first place, and after checking if it's okay with Herself you ship the best set in the best slipcase to KJ Charles, who . . .
. . . praises them to the skies. Capslocks about them, even. 🤩
Bind #(my numbering system is off)
Echolocation by Darksknight
Date Completed: 12/31/2025
Size: Octavo. 93 pages, 8,535 words
Summary: Kirk and Spock don’t realize that they’ve bonded right away. The rest of the crew is a different story.
I was looking at my 2025 stats and realized the number of books I made during the year was going to end at an awkward number. Clearly that meant I should try to cram another book in before the end, right? It would have to be a small one because I had three days for both typesetting and binding. And since I had a friend visiting soon I should make two copies because why not. And I did actually pull it off!
Octavos are such a great way to use up scraps, in this case some paste paper I made over the summer and some cardstock I mis-measured for an earlier project. It’s double sided paper and I used different sides for each copy for extra variation.
The typeset itself is very rough and ready, but a lot of fun to knock out quickly. I didn’t even run it through spellcheck (partly because Chekov’s accent is written out and I didn’t feel like hitting ignore for every word in his dialogue). I went a little overboard with the Astronomy dingbat font for the title page and scene dividers but stars were the logical choice. Federation Classic for the titles and Bell MT as the body font, just because I hadn’t used it yet this year .
I have learned a thing! :D
So, as you may know, I noticed a while ago that classic Oblivion's UI font is a 125% horizontally stretched out version of the font "Kingthing's Petrock", but with custom "E", "G", and "g" characters. Apparently, the "E" and "g" are from the font "Morris Roman". :D
This is Das Rundbuch des Fürstbischofs Julius Echter, in the collection of the University of Würzberg.
Measuring 27 cm in diameter and 5.5 cm in thickness, it was likely bound by Gregor Schenk the Younger (ca. 1545–1588) as a demonstration and advertisement of his bookbinding skills.
Originally part of the collection of the University's founder, Prince-Bishop Julius Echter (1545–1617), it was discovered at the auction of a private collection in 2006 and acquired by the University.
The contents are five Catholic books by Dutch authors, combined into two stacks of equal height and bound together at the center. The cover is split down the middle, and each half can be opened separately (front and back).
Book 29 ✅ is a birthday present for my dad. Rush has been my dad’s favorite band since their very first album, and this discography was so much fun to create for his 65th birthday. Each album has its own full page spread (many I had to recreate because square album covers don’t fit nicely on 11x8.5). Each album’s song titles match that album’s font. Trivia and facts about the songs, albums, and how they showed up in our life are interspersed throughout. Endbands were hand sewn with my grandpa’s old silk thread. The cover is black patent leather with pink leopard print leather inset. The back design is handfoiled. My brother created a brass clasp to hold it all closed. And of course my daughter added her personal touch on a misprint. I owe an incredible thanks to the major rush fans over at 2112.net (particularly Rush Fonts and Eric at Power Windows) for compiling so much high quality content and free fonts I could use. All content belongs to Rush. This is a gift for personal use and is not being sold. Listen to their songs!!
Pages from Romeyn Beck Hough’s unique 14 volume work The American Woods (1888–1913), a collection in book-form of more than 1000 paper-thin wood samples representing more than 350 varieties of N.American tree. More samples from the work here: https://publicdomainreview.org/collection/the-american-woods
okay so this really seemed like a "you should actually read the article" thing and I'm glad I did
it's about a new typeface someone in publishing invented that allows for saving space on a page without compromising legibility, with an eye towards reducing printing costs and the emissions of the industry. that's basically all
it's not about publishing books with lower wordcounts or whatever. it's about physically reducing page count without reducing content
personally I'm not mad about any industry making strides to try and improve their eco-friendliness- and they can only act in the arena where they have power, so Whataboutism helps nobody here. the only argument I would make is that this sort of thing should act as an example to people like AI bros of how they should be caring, too
and yes, perhaps read articles before making a judgment call on their content
I was so excited to see a copy of this in real life bc it's something I studied in art history. this is a book that was typeset and printed by hand using wooden blocks but every one of the characters was invented for the sake of the piece and does not correspond to any word in the Chinese language
My former college roommate has been obsessed with Star Trek since she was a kid, 100% shipped Kirk & Spock, but had somehow missed the world of fanfiction. Since we routinely give each other whatever strange new craft we’re learning, she needed a fanbinding gift for Christmas. I wanted a fic that was short enough that it didn’t feel like I was giving her an assignment but still long enough to have a real plot, plus not too fluffy and not too angsty. "Vulcans are Fangirls Too" was the goldilocks fic.
I am now in love with Octavos (8 pages per side of printer paper). They’re so small and cute and perfect for stories around the 10,000 word range. I had fun finally using the “command gold” bookcloth in my stash and I think I’m finally getting the hang of HTV - it turned out nearly perfect this time.
Formatted in LibreOffice Writer with Liberation Serif as the body text font, Eras ITC for the title page and page numbers, and Federation Classic for the spine title. There are several letters in this story so I used the Ink Free font for Kirk's handwriting and Segoe Print for Spock.
Finished late at night right before going to visit and exchange presents the next day.
I did a faux rebind of Dune as a birthday gift for a friend of mine. Thankfully, his girlfriend sent me pictures of his own Dune Edition (in German) and its measurements. That way he can use this book sleeve for the German edition too. He’s been complaining about that design for quite a while, basically every time we enter a book store.
I also hand-stitched this little desert design into the book cloth, because I don’t own a cricut lol
And here is how it works:
Here’s the tutorial by bindrebindery on ig
And here's the tutorial for all the tiktok kids
She's been a huge help throughout my adventures in rebinding books, and straight up just deserves more recognition.
