I want to write again. Not to worry, I’m not giving up my abstract art.
I regret selling my typewriters off.
The two I regret most was the Oliver no. 9 and the Hermes Baby Rocket. I had to find a permanent desk for the 9 because it gave you a hernia everytime you moved it. I stopped moving it. I loved the sap green painted hardened steel exterior. I felt as if I was playing a miniature organ every time I sat down to type. The keys sat upright at attention, fastened in front and back. The keys would swoop down, smashing the letter into the paper. It made for a dance not to be missed and was distracting, but all for the right reasons. The Rocket, on the other hand, was the opposite. It was the modern slim notebook of yesteryear. No electricity and internet required. Lightweight and easy to tote anywhere. I got rid of them both. This event has got to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, period!
Now, I’m saving my money to get another one which I hope to purchase from California Typewriter.