Just when I get into a deep dark mood… I pick at the keys of a typewriter and things start to look good again. I start to wallow in despair and disgust… then I press a few keys and a smile appears. Darn typewriters that do not allow my silly thoughts to seem smart (alone in my head they always are… but on paper look less so). Darn the typewriter for bringing focus to my thoughts and forcing me to see right from self-righteous Darn this typewriter as I listen to Hank Williams having fun on the by oh… and Gladys Knight wishing me a happy home… the Mills Brother’s calling for a Cab Driver… darn…. darn… this typewriter…
