When I was in high school, I had a typewriter. It was actually my mom’s old typewriter, which I found in the basement. It wasn’t one of those beautiful typewriters, with individual keys for each letter, that made a quaint print-pressing sound as you typed, bringing you back to simpler times. It was an eighties typewriter and it looked like an old computer. When I turned it on, it made the same sound that receipt machines make when they’re printing and it moved it’s cursor to the next available line.
I wrote a lot in high school before having a typewriter, in notebooks during school, but I never could have predicted how much having a typewriter enabled my writing. From the moment I got it, I spent all my time giving my thoughts to the typewriter, most of which sound like high thoughts**, constructed after reading a couple of chapters of The Electric Kool-aid Acid Test.
When things become so set and there as to become the wall’s or the building’s, but not yours anymore: you created it and you hung it and you saw it as yours but now yours is gone and it’s become it’s and theirs and you wanted it that way — you didn’t like it as yours, or as you, but now you want it — now that it’s theirs. Seeing it as someone else’s has glazed your critical eye over and now you study it lightly, placing some heavy and undeserved bravado on this ‘piece’ — you study it just so, and you acquire it into your collection, explaining it never as yours or theirs but just as it.
When I was in this writing flow, something beautiful happened — I would begin to experience this moment, this glow moment, where I would have a thought that I could not bear to let go. I had to write it down. If it wasn’t on a sheet of paper this moment, I would explode. If I was out, the thought went on a receipt. If I was sleeping, I’d get up and fire up the typewriter. Through writing so much, my thoughts became writing.
After high school, my typewriter and I parted, and with our parting, the glow moment left me as well. I have seldom experienced this same glow moment since, but I would like to. This is why I have decided to force myself to write every single day.
In order to recreate the euphoric feeling of typing on a typewriter, I’ve decided to create blog posts using Medium. That way, I can look back on my words and at least find comfort in their organised and perfect beauty. Maybe in time, my thoughts will become words again, and I can write more wonderful things — this time, with a better vocabulary and not exclusively about high school.
Join the glow movement.
** most of which were