April 26, 2005
There is a time and place for all things. And in this cyber world of hyper-mediated communications, I have finally crossed the line into the world of the blog.
A little less than a year ago, I moved out of my second story flat on the Southside of Chicago, anchoring what memories were to be left in a dusty green case with the name Sgt. Murphy scribed on the side; the case holding one of my last charished finds from the antique shops along Lincon Ave., an old 1940s typewriter, a dark green Rhemington Quiet Writer.
A technology of wonderment for the GI on the move through the rural lanes of Britain or France, its clacking steel hammers were far from quiet by standards of today's Powerbooks or Tablets. But there was a silent spirit in those keys, one which I hope lives on in this new form.
It is late in the evening. No, rather, early in the morning, says the clock next to my bed on the other side of the desk from where I write. This said, I shall retire for the time being and enter into these thoughts at a more resonable--or at least coherant time.
In closing, it is hoped that these entries will bring about a sense of belonging, a place where the mind can still imagine and see, despite the technical restraints this medium often poses. If time and space could afford the same sense of spirit and day dreaming that comes from ideling through the stacks of a library, I hope this blog will become one more volume to the mass that continues to grow in the collection of stories taken from real people.
A little less than a year ago, I moved out of my second story flat on the Southside of Chicago, anchoring what memories were to be left in a dusty green case with the name Sgt. Murphy scribed on the side; the case holding one of my last charished finds from the antique shops along Lincon Ave., an old 1940s typewriter, a dark green Rhemington Quiet Writer.
A technology of wonderment for the GI on the move through the rural lanes of Britain or France, its clacking steel hammers were far from quiet by standards of today's Powerbooks or Tablets. But there was a silent spirit in those keys, one which I hope lives on in this new form.
It is late in the evening. No, rather, early in the morning, says the clock next to my bed on the other side of the desk from where I write. This said, I shall retire for the time being and enter into these thoughts at a more resonable--or at least coherant time.
In closing, it is hoped that these entries will bring about a sense of belonging, a place where the mind can still imagine and see, despite the technical restraints this medium often poses. If time and space could afford the same sense of spirit and day dreaming that comes from ideling through the stacks of a library, I hope this blog will become one more volume to the mass that continues to grow in the collection of stories taken from real people.
# posted by Tony : 10:21 PM
