Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Do the things we choose


Didn't work as well as I'd hoped. Maybe my ribbon is dying, in addition to crumpling and ripping through. Physically decaying as I type. As far as I know it hasn't been changed since my grandmother's time, so it's not a big surprise. That's the next step--find a ribbon, buy some anti-corrosion oil, figure out why I can't get a justified left margin or a single space when I hit the space bar. Still. This was fun. I'm absolutely addicted to my Hermes Rocket. Some photos:

My desk--basil, Burroway, siblings, coffee, typewriter
Crumpling ribbon driving me crazy.  One does understand Jack Kerouac better than previously.

3 comments:

anniewald.com said...

Love the pix of your space...a treat to see the physical world you inhabit as a writer.
And that typewriter...that's a Proustian madeleine for me.
You could write a whole story about that and I'd love to read it.

Victoria said...

Aha! You're right, your Hermes matches mine. Most of those I've seen (online) have the rectangular logo. I'm partial to the oval--so space age. Is it also from '53?

My ribbon was purchased locally and was already wound on (ugh) plastic spools. I was instructed not to take the ribbon off and rewind it on the metal spools it came with (although I was very tempted). Luckily my Underwood could make use of them.

Bravo on the typecast! I'll try to catch up on mine over the weekend.

Thanks for your notes!

Melissa said...

The Proustian madeleine... The first time I read that comment I thought of the actual cookie, and mulled that over, how my Hermes is like a cookie. It's just as delicious, just as memorable...

And then I remembered the actual Proustian madeleine. A taste that carries one back to the past. Did you have one of these typewriters? I can't tell you how useful it's been to me as a writer. I actually regret stopping.

My ribbon is on plastic spools, so it must be newer, and I have to find someplace online to buy them. I'd love to see a photograph of all of your fittings! I don't know if mine's from '53, since it came from my great-grandmother, but that sounds about right. When my father was two years old.