15 January, 2018

Ever Faithful, My Brother Typewriter Returns to Me

When the correction ribbon started popping off at random times, uncoiling its spool quite inconveniently, I decided it was time to send the workhorse, my typewriter, away for a while.


I knew I'd miss it, but repairs had to be made. I rely on this machine too much — for typing this blog, journal submissions, personal letters, manuscript drafts for my endlessly unfinished novel, and more. It's the tool with which I daily ply my trade, writing. It's my avocation and my primary method of communication. Imagine your cell phone taken away and you'll get a pretty good idea of how I felt about setting Old Faithful in a box and shipping it to one of the last remaining typewriter-supply businesses in existence.

And then it was gone for a month and a half. How did I not lose my mind?

Thankfully, there was no shortage of excellent reading material on hand. I gobbled up a number of books. I even drew a little. Guys in my wing noticed that I came out of my cell a little (a very little) more than usual, too, so I suppose it was good for my social life.

Social, schmocial, though; I wanted to work!

I got a pass to pick up my typewriter from the prison property room, at long last, on Wednesday. I was downright giddy after carrying it back to the housing unit, plugging it in, and hearing the familiar buzz-click-click-click-buzz-buzz of its mechanical power-on sequence, and fell immediately to the task of clearing out my backlog — "triage for my to-do list," I called it.

All may be far from right in the world (I'm still innocent in prison; hey, details), but things in Cell 236 just got a hell of a lot better. 

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Lacking computer access of any kind, Byron cannot respond to your comments but is relayed them and appreciates your kind remarks.