During college, in a thrift store one day, I happened across a vintage, manual portable typewriter. For years, I carried that typewriter around with me, hoping that some kind of psychic writing power would be imbued in me, via association with just such a machine. To this day, I am fascinated by the typewriters, with my list concentrating on manual, like The Corona Portable, of legend, and IBM Selectric, also of myth and lore.
I’m unsure if there is anything in between those examples, but the sad fact, after years of being associated with that one Royal Portable typewriter, I couldn’t do anything with it. Wound up with a buddy who is a bit of a survivalist, and as such, a manual typewriter fits right into his niche.
So the idea of the typewriter as a tool, as a talisman, as a touchstone, it’s haunted me for years. More than two decades, possibly longer. However, in practical application, it never worked. No rhythm. No cadence. My first academic computer, it has a piece of software that made it sound like a manaul typewriter. But no, not anymore.
There was an app, surfaced not long ago, or fell into my purview, that made a tablet sound like a manual typewriter. Cute.
Cute. Possibly quite annoying, too.
While I’m in love with the idea, the fact of the matter is a resilient “No.” Great idea. Doesn’t work for me. I’m dipped in digital ink.
All that remains are a few pages typed with that typewriter.