{.old skool cool.}

by devourslowly

When I was little I loved playing with my father’s typewriter.  It was not a vintage chic but rather a retro geek with plastic cream body, keys and a red enter key.  Hey, it was the 80s and my father was more a scientist than a romantic.  I was addicted to smell of typewriter ink and found all sorts of excuses to replace the ink ribbon.  From very early on my fingers and clothes would be constantly stained with black and blue typewriter ink.  (I am pretty sure it was an early indication that I would later on go to school and eat mud with the boys)  It was almost like my heroin and I was always on a high.  I remember one day finding out that the ink ribbons had all dried up because I had forgotten to close the box properly.  I cried.