Smokestacks

A curious brutality is born whenever hearts combine.    It is often accidental. Seldom intentional. And if it is, that’s a type of abuse better captured by other, more competent, writers. My talents aren’t nearly impartial enough to ever capture that peculiar complexity.    It just sort of happens; no one is really at fault. Feelings and expectations combine as the commonality of mutual experience meld into a comforting pattern of disconnect. One that eventually erupts unexpectedly on some random Clinton County Wednesday morning.     It was a long time in coming, that breakdown of communication. There is only so much compassion one can find after only a few hours of sleep stretched out hard on thinly padded living room patio furniture. And before the strength …

Read More

NSFW- The Naked Lettera 22

After perusing one of the local antique malls recently (on my birthday, actually), tucked way in a quiet corner of the very last vendor booth I happened to spy what I have come to call a “bowling ball bag”.  I knew from experience it would would contain something interesting and it just so happens that I was right. A quick unzipping and there it was….an Olivetti Lettera 22.  And a price tag.  A price tag that stated $25.  She was a bit dusty, which is about the norm anymore.  The paint was scuffed in a few places and stained in others…  In other locations, the paint had somehow gotten mucky.  Like, really mucky. I’m not sure if something had been spilled on it, or if it …

Read More

Run! It’s a Copper!

The other week I found myself lucky enough to have won an online auction for a sterling that nobody else seemed interested in (I was the only bidder).  Even with shipping and the additional handling charges added on, it was $20 typer. I knew going into it that the paint was a bit rough: Not too bad at first glance, BUT in the long, sordid history of this typer, it seems as though someone had spilled coffee onto it.  So even after cleaning the paint, the stains remained.  So, it was time to play.  But first, some more “as found” pics…. Showing some of the surprises inside, along with coffee stains…. Such a dirty girl…. Scuffs and stains…. Worn and dusty…. First step, disassembly and washing …

Read More

SOS…Saving Our Sterlings!

This 1950 Super Silent came to me accidentally when I had actually gone to acquire a different typer ( a SkyWriter, in case you are wondering) through a garage sale listing on Facebook.  The seller was like “Oh.  You like typewriters? I have another one if you are interested”, and me being me, well, I can’t seem to say no.  Have to keep that typer addiction fed, don’tcha know. Plus, they only wanted ten bucks for it, so I figured if nothing else, I would end up with a parts machine. Upon further investigation, however, I soon saw that the mechanical problems were easily sorted and the machine was worth saving as a whole.  It was just going to take a little bit…. It had definitely …

Read More

80s Hair Band(ing)

Early last week I had a bit of rare free  time before having to make a school pickup, so I stopped into one of the local thrift shops that tends to be on the upper end of the scale for the resale places around town.  Over these past couple of years it has proven mildly positive as for typers.  I think I got a really nice Remington Travel-Riter there and also a tailed Adler (that has since been re-homed to another writer, I am very happy to say), so I figured maybe I would get lucky. Tucked inside and made my way to the back of the store where bigger items, such as typers, are kept.  And I saw a black, ballistic plastic case up on …

Read More

Birth Of A Studio

Welcome to the very beginnings of Typewriter Fox Studios, a multi-media, multifaceted, multi-ratcheted, multi-orgasmic, organical, non-vegan (because fuck all that), bacon beer whiskey boob depression-fueled trove of juvenile-jerk-off-jibberish and infantile doodles.  Give it a peek, try to break it, just don’t be too harsh in your assessment….it’s still just a baby.  And you have to be nice to babies.  Because, for some fuckered-up reason, it is frowned upon in modern American society to non-gay-sashay up to an infant and tell them, in tenderly adulty tones, that they need to just shut the fuck up.  Or comment upon how ugly they are and that you truly hope that they will eventually grow into their faces.    

Read More