All posts in Thought

Colorcasting at Starbucks

As you may well be aware, Colorcasting is all the rage in the typosphere. As I am no stranger to rage, I had to try it too. But get this, my friends: I raised the stakes. Colorcasting in public. “Oh no you didn’t!”

You’ll note that, as Starbucks generally lack easy access to heat guns, thermal hair dryers, and/or toaster ovens, the legibility of my results is quite poor, at best. Don’t worry– you’re not missing much.

Oh wait, I forgot to mention, if you are not reading Joe Van Cleave’s and his grandson’s blogs, you’re missing out (kids’ typecasts are wonderful, IMHO, and this one is no exception). I plan to try a typewritten instant book like Joe did— and heck, shouldn’t we all? It’s National Zine Month, you know.

Odds and ends about typewriting, ephemera, and Charles Schulz

Jett Morton is one of us.

Interesting article about the state of typewriting in Indonesia: “…in much of Indonesia, the humble typewriter still reigns.”

Typewriter shops: and another one bites the dust.

Richard Scarry books are full of marvelous illustrations of creatures using typewriters, rotary telephones, pot-bellied stoves, and other fondly-remembered inventions of pre-virtual times. This fact aside, it is true that current editions of these books show ample signs of modern-day tampering.

Battle to the death: Pocket Moleskine vs. Levenger shirt pocket briefcase.

Looking to waste time on the web? (who isn’t?) Have you waded around in the Ephemera pool in Flickr lately? Kinda interesting. And, hand-carved stamps are cool. Am I the only one around here who has a thing for stamps? Parcel Post has some purty retro paper stuff. Kind of on the girlier side.

Lastly, in honor of several good people I know who lost their jobs today, the dark humor of early Charles Schulz:

I was on vacation.

But I’m back. More posts shortly.

Meanwhile, here is another one of those “last of a dying breed” stories about typewriter repair…

Rhodia, Sharpie, Myndology, layoffs

Here is a Pen Addict review of a Sharpie pen, not the exact one I have, but one of the Sharpie 2.0 designs.

UPDATE: Pen Addict addresses actual Sharpie retractable

Neocast: Drugstore Cowgirl

(Neocasts are verbose. It’s just the nature of the medium. You’ve been warned.)

Like many of my fellow Americans, I’m doing my part to undermine the U.S. economy by declaring a personal spending freeze. To test my resolve this evening, I wandered through the office supply section of Bartell Drugs.

For those of you not of the Pacific Northwest, Bartell Drugs is your classic drug store (itself a marvelously anachronistic institution, I’ve written about this before). Despite its slender selection of USB cables and related doodaddery, one could safely meander the aisles of Bartell’s with no knowledge that the computer age had yet arrived. The office supply section unabashedly implies that paper and pen transactions are the bread and butter of modern communications technology: old-timey carbon-backed office forms, embossing label makers (yes, they still make them; wish I’d known that when I bought this pipe wrench on eBay a few years back), old-school steno pads, and some intriguing writing implements: Parker Jotters in red and blue, PaperMate Mirados in cardboard boxes that look like old packs of Marlborough cigarettes, and then this: a pack of Mead typing paper. There was one left, sitting there looking long-abandoned by market forces, with the words 1993, The Mead Corporation, Dayton OH, Made in U.S.A. printed on the cover. Could this item have been hanging around the stockroom of Bartell’s since I was a lovesick college undergraduate, waiting for its chance to be discovered by one of seven global typecasters in 2009? (I’d like to think yes.)

I’d picked up and put down a dozen pens by this point, valiantly defending the five wrinkled dollar bills lost somewhere in the bottom of my purse, when I saw the typing paper there. What made the purchase all the more foregone was the song on the faint and crackling sound system: Joni Mitchell’s Help Me. (This song transports me at once to 1978: wearing my tangerine polyester double-knits and playing with my Darci urban penthouse.) No one writes lyrics like Joni Mitchell. This song kills me.

Back to the typing paper, does Mead still make this stuff? If so, they won’t admit it on their Web site. If you have the inside scoop, enlighten me please.