Wednesday, July 4, 2018

Monday, July 2, 2018

Poem: Summer Reflection

I like being able to use a somewhat dark machine for writing uplifting poems.  The Olympia Robust is a wartime typewriter made during the Third Reich. 

My Olympia Robust next to a Double Lemon (lemon crunch ice cream in lemon soda) at Pop's Ice Cream and Soda Bar in Roanoke Virginia.  Check out the old gooseneck soda fountain in the background they used to make my drink!

Tuesday, June 26, 2018

Monday, June 25, 2018

PSA: Do you REALLY know how to use a stapler?

For a long time, I did not.  At least not to their greatest potential...

The part which the staple presses down into is called the anvil, and most staplers have a two mode anvil where one pushes the ends of the staple inward and the other pushes them outward.  Sometimes the anvil slides to adjust, sometimes it is pushed up from the bottom, and I have even seen ones where it flips.
My Arrow 210 has a three position anvil, described on the instruction booklet below.

Aha!  There IS a reason for the outward staple!  It's a temporary staple.  If you choose to begin using these you will not need the scary-teeth-looking tool so many of us have seen and used.  You will only need your fingers.

Check out this very short video to see how much easier your life is about to become:

Tuesday, June 19, 2018

Poem: Taken By Typewriters

Typed on my 1939 Erika 5 at Mill Mountain Coffee in Blacksburg, Virginia.

Wednesday, May 30, 2018

Poem: West Virginia Sex Shop

May 30, 2018:

I thought I might focus this blog a little more on poetry while maintaining a strong typewriter presence.  Hopefully the change results in more posts in general. 
Today I have a 1951 Gossen Tippa which I fell in love with minutes before Richard Polt kindly offered to let me buy it from him.  It came with a letter documenting its history of traveling with the first owner as he moved to Egypt, Kenya, South Africa, Germany, Canada... it's been all over the place.  I am very grateful for the machine and also to know the history of it.  I mean, how often do we ever get to know such things about the machines we love?
The poem is about love too... written in a hotel lobby the night/morning of May 18/19th in Midloathian, Virginia while reflecting on a drive through part of West Virginia the day before.