Super Bowl LIII Typecast

Post-Script: I'm no football fan, don't have a favorite team (except the 1980s-era San Diego Chargers), and didn't have any skin in this game. But I did think it would be fun to try my hand at fledgling sports-writer, 1930 Underwood Portable at hand, to see if I could keep up with the plays. I decided to log the game at local mountain time, instead of the game clock, as this would better illustrate how long one of these matches can last. Ostensibly 60 minutes of play time, it took 3.5 hours, including the halftime entertainment. It's interesting how frequently interrupted the game is with commercial adverts, but that's the NFL these days. Billions of dollars at stake, with the viewers being the product.

I certainly have a newfound respect for the sportswriter of old, sitting at their typewriters, furiously documenting the game. The real sportswriter actually understands the game, knows the players, can find a real story amidst the minutia of statistics, and thus can do a much better job than I. But hey, I got to spend time with family, enjoy food and drink, while typing in the midst of the television program - can't do that once my wife's "stories" come on!

Best of all, I found (or, rediscovered) another use for typewriters. I'm reminded of Robert Messenger, fellow typewriter blogger, who is the real thing - veteran sports writer, reporter and typist.

Big Chief Gas Station

Post-Script: Photos via Panasonic Lumix G7. I was also shooting video on my recently acquired Canon R800 camcorder. Yes, an actual camcorder. I'll be making a video about this soon. Here's the This is Not a VLOG video for today:



Typecast via Remington Quiet-Riter and roll of thermal fax paper.

Wither Goest the URL?

"Family Bingo"



Post-Script: I, on occasion, have these little thoughts or observations, too minuscule to make into some big project like a video but important enough to share, in the hope that someone will find value; or, that they might amass, each a mere stone, into some sizable structure, sometime in the future. I need to do more of this. Perfect is the enemy of good enough, someone once said. In this case, grandiose is the enemy of the humble. Something like that. Just little thoughts, observations, one piled atop another, to become, what? I don't yet know. But I've got to keep amassing these pebbles.

Typecast via Adobe Rose onto the reverse side of thermal fax paper, using a new old-stock silk ribbon.

More Tabletop Tripods, Adobe Rose and Thermal Fax Paper

Post-Script: Here's the newly crafted tripod with Lumix GH3 and 7Artisan 25 lens affixed atop a Joby ball head. Note the tension cable (actually twine) for making the tripod's stance stable, using the weight of the camera itself, without the need for locking hardware at each leg joint:



Here's the larger wooden version of the Ultrapod II, with crude handmade bullhead prototype. I trust it for supporting an auxiliary video light more than an expensive camera. The two secondary legs spread apart to 90 degrees from the primary leg, thus not requiring any locking hardware at the leg joints or tension cable:



The cost of the hardware store knobs was more than the rest of the project combined, since the wooden bits were from my scrap bin.

Here's the newly crafted paper roll holder for 8.5" wide thermal (or other) paper rolls. It's designed to rest behind the machine, with the rear feet resting on the rubber pad (or the bottom edge upon the front ledge), with a hearty leader of paper draped behind the work table, permitting enough slack for the carriage's side-to-side movement:



In the top photo you can see my Royal QDL (named Adobe Rose), with companion howling coyote, mounted atop the paper roll holder.

Here's a video about using thermal paper rolls in typewriters:



I should mention that the nice, dark imprint from the typecast above (written on the backside of a thermal fax paper roll, on the Royal QDL) is due to a new old-stock silk typewriter ribbon, gifted to me by my friend Kevin. In the above video I'd erroneously attributed the dark imprint to the thermal fax paper itself.

And here's the video about the updated tripod project:

To Stay on the Straight and Narrow

Post-Script: Do you remember, just a month or two ago, all the time I spent cleaning, adjusting, typing and typecasting with my more recently acquired Smith-Corona Silent Super? Well, this is its older stablemate, the venerable non-Super Silent, the one with the fixed tabs, and a bit more drab color scheme but in better mechanical condition. In terms of "haptics," this one feels every bit as good as the best mechanical typewriter, but is more compact in size than the larger Galaxy 12s or Hermes 3000s. And, being of elite-sized (smaller, 12 characters per inch), it just works better for me as a first-draft typer, especially with the seemingly endless roll of teletype paper threaded up. It is because of machines like this, situated in my patio room upon the tray table, ready to type up a storm, that I can, at a moment's notice, be creating words upon paper. An imminently practical, pleasurable writing instrument.

I've been taking a liking to this teletype paper. No, it's not a fine quality foolscap of rich vellum, it's instead more like rough, leathery, thicker newsprint. But I like the look it gives to printed words. They're meaty and physical. You can more easily see the ink impressed upon the paper's fibers. The paper's off-white tone looks like it's already aged half a century, like these freshly typed words could have been from a previous era; some sort of typewriter time machine at work, words from the present appearing as if they've come from the past.

The best part of using the roll of teletype paper is not having to thread up a fresh sheet of paper after an all-too-brief session of typing. No interruptions, just pure, nonstop writing pleasure.

The top photo shows a Bic Cristal medium-point in blue ink, one of my all-time favorite writing instruments. If it weren't for fountain pens, this is what I'd be writing with. I've taken to liking these pens so much that I go out of my way to stay stocked up on them; the larger 1.6mm tip versions are also very nice writers. Oddly, they're rather hard to find at my local big-box retail stores. Luckily there's Amazon to the rescue.

The Blue Mechanical AI

Help! I am being held captive by a blue mechanical AI. No, it's not some advanced artificial intelligence of the kind being developed by leading tech industry titans, but was something evidently created decades earlier, and made of all mechanical parts, like some steampunk automaton.

I know what you're thinking, that there's not enough complexity in a typewriter to account for its abilities I've observed this afternoon, while engaged in an extended typing session with the roll of teletype paper threaded up, to keep me chained to my chair, banging the keys and slinging the carriage back, a roll of intelligent prose (or nearly so) falling back behind onto the floor. But I have no better explanation to offer.

This Brother-made Webster XL-747 has even offered me a meaning to its name: Writing Enjoyment By Simply Typing Endless Randomness. At least, that's what came out on the paper roll. Who am I to argue?




Now, there's something else it revealed to me: a way to organize these diverse scrolls of random writing by using the margin release button and red ribbon to make marginal notes along the lefthand edge, so that once filed away I can still easily locate individual topics.

I've been using Smitty, the Smith-Corona Silent Super, for a few weeks and, while it has a softer touch than this Brother, I've found I can type at least as fast, maybe faster. Yes, the touch of the keys is heavier, and it's carriage shift, but with my weird typing technique and my right elbow supported on the armchair I can accurately hit the keys harder, with great accuracy.

This little blue AI also is smaller, lighter, has the repeat spacer and a nice carrying case. This is one of those things about typewriter collecting that I hoped to achieve, to narrow down the collection to just those machines I really enjoy using. While at the Phoenix Type-In last month I sold both Olivetti Lettera 22s, which were both similar enough to this Brother in size and color but weren't as pleasing to use. I think I made a good choice, as this machine has essentially no mechanical issues whatsoever. It's a joy to type with despite its heavier touch because I don't have to pause for corrections like with other, more trouble-prone typers.

Now that this blue AI has used me for its own purposes of announcing itself to the world, I'm hoping it will have the kindness to permit me a good nights sleep before I return to work early tomorrow morning. But they're sneaky, these AIs are, so I must be on my toes.

First Draft Writing

Post-Script: I'm reminded that there are a number of writing applications that purport to make the writing process via laptop computer less distractive. Yet at the same time I can't help but think that it's not a problem with Microsoft Word, but rather with the computing platform itself, wirelessly and incessantly connected to the World Wide Web.

Alternatively, since I'm not a working writer, perhaps I don't know what I'm talking about. But the times I've been the most creative have been those times when I've purposed myself to sit down and write. It's a specific decision a person makes, despite the risk of so-called writer's block. To sit down and put words on paper. Yes, on paper. I do think the paper helps to make the thoughts tangible, though that might be a mere psychological trick. But whatever works.

I've included as the second photo my old Underwood Olivetti 21 and the L.A.R.O.P. - Little Ass Roll Of Paper, the junior-sized version of the Jack Kerouac-inspired endless scroll. I had to find this narrower (6" wide) white paper at Napa Auto Parts, used for masking cars prior to being painted. It's white, but isn't letter-writing perfect for taking typewriter ink; but for first-draft writing it's sufficient, if you need the narrower size; and the first-draft writing process with the endless roll of paper is remarkable. Set your machine to double line spacing, set the margins about one character in from either edge, and start typing. And don't stop. Just keep putting words on paper and slinging the carriage back and forth, and before you know it, there's a long tail of paper hanging off the back of the machine, piling up on the floor, and you find yourself with a sizable amount of words written to paper. When you're done, either accordion-fold the scroll into page-sized pieces or cut it up and bind it together; whatever works for you. The double spacing means you can immediately begin proof-reading and revising what you've typed, via pen or pencil. I've found this to be the most efficient way to get words down on paper using a manual typewriter; and the narrower size makes it easier for the scroll to slide back and forth sideways with the carriage motion, compared to a full-width scroll of paper.

Mighty Fine Find

Post-Script: I installed a two-color ribbon purchased via Amazon, and noticed afterwards a bit of ink smudging happening, which you might have noticed in the typecast piece. I suspect it's the ribbon, not the typewriter. Late yesterday evening I felt I needed some typing therapy, and sat out in the patio room with the L.A.R.O.P. (Little Arse Roll of Paper) mounted to the wooden tray table, and did some stream-of-consciousness typing. Normally the imprint upon this thin automotive masking paper is rather faint, but with the combination of this typewriter and the smudgy ribbon, it gave a very dark impression - which impressed me!

I'm also aware, being the owner of a small collection of manual typewriters, that I really don't touch-type all that often on these machines. Part of the reason is because, for blog articles needing to be scanned, I treat each piece more as a finished work of letterpress, and so use a careful two-fingered method, so as to impart as clear of an imprint as possible. However, I get the sense that this SM9 might be a good candidate as a touch-typing machine, due to its snappy action and overall great condition. So that late-night L.A.R.O.P. session served as an opportunity to get a bit of manual touch-typing practice in, and it was a good experience. I am aware in doing so that my ring and pinkie fingers are in need of a bit of training; which can only happen with more practice.

Lacking a carrying case, I've been thinking about what to do when the time comes that I might want to transport it. Of course, one solution is, having a good assortment of portables, to simply use a smaller machine when desiring to type out and about. But still, there is the fact that this one will eventually get swapped out in usage rotation with another, and so storing it safely in my closet becomes an issue. I think I'll go do some more thrift/antique store shopping and find one of those hard-cased Samsonite suitcases, that seem all too plentiful; perhaps I can manage to install some kind of makeshift bracket inside, for mounting to the typewriter's undercarriage. There is also the possibility that the hard case for this machine might still be at the store I purchased this from, perhaps mislaid, and so it would warrant a return visit.

Photos via Lumix G5.