No fancy title...

... cuz' reasons

You can thank my cycle for my added presence this month, lovelies. More so, I desired to stay in bed all day today and need to feel like I am accomplishing a form of importance instead of impotence.

Two friends of mine have brought the internal tug-of-war within my literary space between my ears. The exceptionally talented of the two is an adjunct instructor of literary persuasion and has been encouraging me to submit writings to be published.

I've been supplied with a good starting step source website to look for appropriate options for publishers.

Yet, I am apprehensive. The mix of my shit self-esteem, undiagnosed ADHD potential, & self-doubt try to proverbially gang-bang me into feeling my writing is not suitable for publishment.

I have to shake those flakes of darkness & figure out the logistics of it all - as well as wait for Mother Nature to stop giving me period pains & listless moods.

I do hope to look into it more & being published would be a fun little gold star for my very shattered and jaded ego. We'll see in the future.

I'm going to finish my grilled cheese and soup and go to bed. I know it's hot as an oven outside, but I need my nostalgia comfort right now.

Until next time Lovelies! 💋

Blast from the past...

...not fit for use today.

Am I starting to seem like that man after marriage who only comes once a month if you're lucky? God knows I have been feeling that these past few months while I try to - never mind. I digress.

Visitors and avid lurkers may have noted my direction and focus on writing & general liberal arts. I felt willing to slip away from the covers of not letting people into my life through photography.

I'm not keen on giving the internet roamers access to more pieces of a puzzle called my life so they can start their perverse hunt for the soul behind the ink (even if it is digital). However, pictorial context is necessary to flesh out the archeological findings I uncovered within my storage unit after helping my parents declutter Mama & Papa's things.

Hidden under some sheets and boxes was an old Underwood Champion typewriter. Sadly, it's well beyond its operative lifespan. It is an amazingly majestic artifact of the Gilded Age of literary drafting. A time before autocorrect & backspace or delete keys, when you felt the tactile indentations of the letters within the keys, the force of your digits produced the leverage to strike each character onto your paper.

This gem also harkened to a time of solitude within a study or room as it was only you, your thoughts, your typewriter & the sounds of your typing as you spilled the inner machinations of your story into your fingertips and onto the page with ribboned ink. There is a very romantic, dare I say literarily erotic aura, which a typewriter commands your attention upon its sight.

Truly, I wish this typewriter from my grandparents was functional to use. Yet - I share here its form for my fellow literary souls who may appreciate the sensual forms of its key sets, feed drum, & strike arms - which once would write worlds onto woven sheets of fiber.

I hope to find an old Smith Corona unit someday that speaks to me & maybe when that day comes, I will have something aged like wine within my conscious to strike to paper. Until then - please enjoy these two photos I took & until next time I see you, my lovelies ~ goodnight!

 

Underwood Champion Typewriter (Manual Operation)

Underwood Champion Key Set and Striker Rack

 

💋P.S. I am in no way an expert on typewriter terminology, so the naming of parts I say are most likely nonsense to true experts.
 

Forcing you to worship my...

 ... King

Below is a clip from Oprah, who I am not a fan of, which comes around the internet at times in my view.

Few artists - few men (Especially in this day & age) have the talent and sheer creative prowess to create good music but also to be an entire band with simple beatboxing.

There are so many complex, happy, sad, & unreal thoughts or feelings I have remembering this god that was outcast by our society that believed a corrupt media that wanted him gone from attention. The man was a humanitarian who did good deeds whether seen nationally or not. People still come to light of Michael doing things for them and helping the helpless, none of which we ever knew because he never wanted it televised or publicized.

It's why I will never stand next to the "modern kings" of music. They can't hold my fucking bra strap compared to the greatness that was MJ.

Please enjoy this gold that came up on Instagram late tonight as I fight insomnia episodes again. Keep an eye on the original post comments about how Prince could play 79 instruments while MJ made endless instruments for himself.

Click the Image to go to the post, the Instagram embed thing doesn't want to work with me and my half awake brain.