When I moved back to Milwaukee in May, I had something on the back of my mind– I wanted a typewriter. I thought I could use it for some sort of ritual where once a week I would bust it out, pour a stiff drink, set some atmosphere with some tunes and work on beatnik poetry or whatnot.

Maaaan, I thought, that would be sweet.

You can imagine my surprise and delight at the inner workings of the universe when I was walking around Riverwest (my neighborhood) about two days after being back. I happened to perchance upon a black plastic case sitting by the curb with a note taped to it– “FREE! Not sure if it works.” I opened it up and it was a solid looking Olympia typewriter.

And it did work– it just needed a new ribbon. I found a typewriter ribbon online for a few bucks and that, my friends, is that.

If you’re walking down my block Sunday evenings and hear what sounds like sporadic machine gun fire, that’s just me doing my Lawrence Ferlinghetti impersonation.