just my type

now this is a gorgeous machine. just looking at it... it is literally almost as if i'm looking at a playboy centerfold. i can almost feel the cold steel of the casing... i can almost smell the must and light oil and the slight trace vinegar in the ink. so heavy, such quality. my first machine was not a smith-corona, it was a royal... and i remember every inch of it. still, this little lavendar smith is a fine specimen. some may think i'm crazy to rhapsodise over such a cold object as a typewriter, but all i know is this: i feel the most sane when i am at the keys. one of the finest and friendliest invention of modern mankind. its my piano, my violin, my printing press, my pet. sigh... god bless the tap-dance clatter of the Keys. (...y-yeah, the keys...!) and the picture even looks like it was taken on my porch... (you know the porch i mean. )