New first class forever stamps coming soon.
I’m either crawling toward something or away from something. Rarely both.
There Are A Thousand Ways, by PHILIP ALPHONSE RIZZO, published in Spillway number 6, 1997
I long for the earth Honor dirt in fingernails soil that blows into corners Thank the dust clarioned from the stars impacts the tundra that feed caribou Bless ancestral ashes that make roses bloom Praise Sahara dunes the droppings of camels and horses Give reverence to warm grays ochres siennas the burnt umber that roots the pine in Sedona I love the black humus that sticks to Italian names hugs celery around Rome and Utica Kneel and kiss bricks fired to propagate courtyards Massage glazing pots hungering for marigolds Prostrate myself before loam holy blend that substrates corn and wheat and soy beans in Iowa and Nebraska gives artichokes to salads grapes to wind in California Wash not my hands too well after digging in the garden Am not harsh with what we were or shall become
I’m daydreaming the other day, thinking about the Beatles. Who was their first manager? Immediately the name Buddy Ebsen pops into my mind. I know of course that this is incorrect. Still, I let this montage of silliness take it’s course.
Yep. Jed Clampett is now the founder of a british invasion pop music group. Weeeeell doggie!
I will let your own mind fill in the blanks. For the record: I did come up with Brian Epstein shortly after. Not near as funny. ~TH~
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When I first got into typewriters, my initial reaction was how could anybody write on such a kooky machine? Though I must admit, my first experience was on a late 1960s Smith-Corona Galaxie 12, a modern yet somewhat under-achieving typewriter. Despite its shortcomings, there was still that special spark in the Galaxie I’m sure we’ve all felt in our own first encounters. It only spurred me to seek something better. Something smoother, more confident, better built and easier to type on. It’s a journey many of us still trod. It took a few errant side quests before discovering my 1947 Smith-Corona Sterling.
It’s not you who find the typewriter, but the typewriter who finds you. You’ll know it. Believe me. You might have a few in the constellation, but there’s the pole star that guides all your travels.
I suppose that’s what separates writers who use typewriters from those who…
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