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Posts Tagged ‘typewriters’

The long dark weekend of the soul

In Autism Research Unit, Progress Review, Unforgiving Minutes, Work Diary, Writing Diary on September 26, 2009 at 11:44 pm
What is it about weekends that I am doomed always to spend them in a state of high anxiety, flitting from one thing to another, unhappy in each of these pursuits?

Today is, or certainly could have been, a case in point. I got up a little late having gone to see a film last night (on my own, perhaps emboldenened by stuff asperger people like‘s #24 Dating Themselves, something I have commented on at the bottom of the post) watching Newsnight Review and then kicking around posting nonsense on The Booker Shortlist and letching over typewriters on E-Bay.

Everest Model 90

Everest Model 90

This is what happens when I have nothing to do with myself. Well, I’ve stocked up my E-bay watch list, and put in a few wanted ads here and there. Indeed, When I did, finally, get up this morning after getting to bed so late, and when I settled down onto the computer to write a few UoG posts, hoping indeed that this might become a sustaining routine for me over the next few weekends, Dad came back and told me he had been down the car boot sale looking for typewriters. Well, for typewriters and fishing rods for himself and a couple of other things, but basically, he wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for the fact I have been obsessed with typewriters since one of my several new, plasticky portables broke on me when I was working up in the summerhouse about a month ago. Since then my routine has been punctured, and I’ve been working on my aesthetically, sonically beautiful Imperial Model 50 upstairs with and without earplugs to block out the noises of my mum and dad (quietly) going about their business.

Back when I first quit work and took to writing full time – supported by my ever-understand (ok, recently ever-understanding) parents, I was going up to the summerhouse every day to write. That short 30 second walk, and the ritual, often enough, of tucking myself into my sleeping bag was really important, and kept me going. I was up there often enough, from nine in the morning until ten at night. Ok, with sometimes long breaks in between. But I kept going. Read the rest of this entry »