This is the first test this evening of a bookplate design. A lino cut of my Underwood 5, and text printed by hand using some type I bought off eBay a few years ago. I made the text block by clamping the letters and spaces together with duck tape. I’m using oil based block printing ink, and rubbing the back of the paper with a bone letter opener. The text block is simply stamped on by hand. I do love making things completely by hand. Don’t let the lack of a printing press stop you from making prints at home.
I watched it last night, and I’m watching it again with my teen tonight.
I deleted the Instagram app off my phone 2 weeks ago, feeling strange after realising that the unique barrage-set of ads being pushed at me were for me alone. That no one else was being offered these ads in this order. That the suggested accounts being pushed at me were a combination unique to me. That I was scrolling more and more through ads and that they were catching my attention, soaking up my time despite my being aware of the model of money-making going on. Despite my trying to scroll past and ignore. These seconds being eaten away, added up to minutes and would add up to hours and days of my life. Simply scrolling scrolling scrolling. I deleted, feeling like it was the right thing to do in that moment, feeling like my happiness was being sucked at by an invisible vampire. I still have that FOMO sickness. Early days. I’ve got two new books to read. I wish you all a good weekend, and week ahead.
Long Live the Post Horn! By Vigdis Hjorth, translated by Charlotte Barslund. Girls Against God by Jenny Hval, translated by Marjam Idriss. Both published by Verso
On a happier note, I found this wonderful collection of Scottish poetry for 50p in a charity shop. Always look inside the book! The originals are facing the translations My brain doing somersaults over how you might even begin to translate Scots to German. I’m full of admiration and sad that my German is criminally basic.
P.s. The grey walls are now officially a temporary midway state to the perfect writing room colour scheme.
Probably the easiest handle I’ve madeJazzy purple shoe leather off cut with a sturdy cross stitch at each side
I haven’t had my Remington Portable on the desk for ages. One of its old issues was letter piling so I typed a page of random words to see what was what. Only a couple of instances of piling. Usually the more I use this machine the less it piles letters
I’m always keen to increase my vocabulary. I remember the first time I heard the word “realtor” and I thought huh?! I must have been about 20. Before that I assumed the Brits and Americans were speaking basically the same language with merely a large expanse of water between us. Then I learned what “rubber” meant and that it’s not for correcting mistakes on your life drawing. Oh no. And how could anyone say “fanny” in public without blushing?! Well probably me. But I blush for others.
The creator of Aunt Fanny used a Remington portable
If we read these books we (my kids and I) usually ended up having a talk about sexism and racism at some point and how different the stories might be today. I would not have chosen the books myself but if you give children free choice at the bookshop I think it’s worth exploring historical texts, and learning to say “Aunt Fanny” and “Dick” without cracking up mid-sentence is a life skill it’s never too late to learn.
My copy of Backspaces arrived this morning and I’m so excited. I can’t wait to read all the contributions – a whole book of stories about time-travel written entirely on typewriters? Still pinching myself ( Many many many thanks to everyone who made this project happen). Here it is with the Underwood I used to type my story on. Ok, got to go and put the kettle on and read now!
The revolution (in publishing) will be typewritten.
I’m not sure I want to become addicted to jigsaw puzzles during the remainder of lockdown, which is just as well, as there seems to be a world shortage at the moment. I have been enjoying revisiting Brighton Rock. Pinkie is even worse than I remember him. And I understand Rose even less. If I could type on a jigsaw puzzle, I would
This is one of my train books. I’m halfway through and it’s taking me a while because I can’t take it all in all in one go. The author is a recovered alcoholic and so knows what addiction, and getting the better of it is like. We’re all addicted to something and the range of this book is wide. It’s not easy reading. It’s not easy to look your addiction in the face and deal with it. This is not a How To book, it just talks about what addiction is, how the brain works and the author’s own conclusion that addiction is a choice. I tend to agree there, but the variables and complications from person to person are probably infinite.
This book sat on my shelf for over six months before I dared start to read it. There are so many books on addiction and specifically internet related addiction available it’s just about impossible to know where to let your hand come to a rest on the shelves of the bookshop. I picked up a few last winter and flicked through to get a feel for the style of writing. Probably not surprising that I chose this one in the end as the author is a journalist and is wily in his style. He pulls you in with anecdotal material and then hits you with the heavy stuff. But it’s worth reading if you’re at ALL concerned that you need to get on top of whatever it is that’s fucking up your life.
Type The Clouds 