Flapper Dreams and Other Strange Things

  There is nothing worse than finally meeting the woman of your dreams, in your dream, only to wake up and realize that you’ll never see her again.    And just to twist the knife a little bit more, when you do finally wake up, there are messages waiting.   Messages from a girl who has come the closest so far to meeting the imaginary benchmarks set inside the unpredictability of those dreams.   Much of it was washed out and ethereal, as dreams often tend to present themselves.  But some of the specifics stuck inside my head–hard.  And their lingering presence made me ache desperately to return to their simple, uncomplicated joy.   We were browsing at some ridiculously large antique mall.  Obviously on the hunt …

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The Green Eyes Have It

She took me by surprise.   It was shaping up to be just another cookie-cutter Tuesday night, here in the wintery flyover fields.   After having sent out another series of resumes in an attempt to keep looming homelessness at bay, I had settled in to put the final touches on a ridiculous poetry project I recently completed.  Outside the windows of a little blue house, the January winds blew in heavy heaves and sighs- there wouldn’t be any aimless wandering the city streets with weather like that threatening.  So I just hunkered here in a rented bunker to chew up the empty overnight hours with more literary shenanigans.   Then my phone bleeped.   At first, I figured it was just another rejection for a job …

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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 …

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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 …

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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 …

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Typer Brief: Case #1

 ~Re-purposing with a Purpose, Royalite Style Part One~   Over the summer I managed to acquire, as part of a group typer purchase, the sad remains of a 1958 Royalite.  The main body was dented and totally out of alignment.  The ribbon cover was broken AND bent, so it was pretty much pointless to try and repair.  The mechanics were sound, but cosmetically?  It was in rough shape.  I mean you can tell exactly how hard it fell and how it landed at some point in it’s journey to me. It had apparently belonged to the seller’s late wife and something about parting it out always bothered me.  It just sort of seemed too…sad…to turn it into a pile of parts to use in other machines.  …

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