Sit in dreary old cafes, get wasted while typing on a portable mini typewriter, and have profound discussions about meaning of life and the degradation of the society.
I have dreamed of life where I could ditch my laptop and solely use a typewriter for all my writing needs. In that distant dream it is easy to imagine I am jobless too.
Yes typewriters have outlived their use and in this digital age we cannot help but only romanticize them. I have never fallen for the vintage camera with its knobs and lenses, neither have I grown to love vinyl records. I wouldn’t go so far to call them ‘clunkers of the past’, but they definitely merit the obscurity they soon found themselves in. But typewriters still remain the object of my desire.
Imagine Hemmingway sitting with Mac Book Air in a café with a free Wifi! Now squat your brain for imagining such an awful tragedy.
Every time I used to type on the typewriters as a kid I felt like a defiant swaggering superhuman. Now most of my adult life goes in self-deprecating every moment I exist. I remember my line of vision was the space bar and I had to practically lift my butt to go to the next line. Ding! Those tap, tap taps were so slow and I wondered if I could ever learn to type fast. So I did. The result was a series of obscure looking words resembling Dothraki language. How I cherish those days now.