Keys to success

Don't get me wrong; I love my word processor. But there's something magical about my old Eliott Fisher Special Edition Underwood. Jack Kerouac wrote Atop on Underwood. He stayed up nights a few miles from here playing Charlie Parker records and agonizing over the final rewrite of On The Road. He blasted out the sequel, The Dharma Bums, in a two-week jag of coffee and Benzadrine. You don't see many buggywhip collectors. But typewriters are different. Typewriters are art. I had the pleasure of publishing a poet, who wrote exclusively on typewriters, had them all over the house and moved, one to another, as the mood struck him. He was/is a blues musician, and he wrote as much by the sound and feel of the keys as by the sound and feel of the words themselves. Here's a link to a picture of a woman who had a typewriter, and the last paragraph of On The Road, tattooed on her back. http://thorspecken.blogspot.com/2009/06/tess-adamski.html