Note: Heavy, apparently expensive. Seemed functional and in good condition when spotted at a coffee shop/café/gallery outside of a little small logging town (Maniwa) like some sort of strange oasis: the front door was rather hidden, they spent 30 minutes preparing a magnificent cup of tea, which came with black pepper. The table was hewn from a massive single log (“massive” trees aren’t really “massive” in Japan by Canadian standards but anyway…) And so many Interesting and cute objects scattered around. Its this sort of randomness that I love love love about living in Japan.
Explaining the obvious: I fill notebooks/journals of poetry, notes and musings (as well as scrapjournals which contain paper ephemera) and then transcribe (which no editing), then stash them into old-timey suitcase, which usually live in a storage locker faraway from where i physically exist.
I snap lil snaps of the cover before hibernation to remind myself of these lil tomes which remind me so much of where i was when the words were scribbled.
To prevent the snaps from vanishing into a folder (digital shoebox as it were), compilations ensue, placed into this archive for my reference, and for you to peek at if you have a notion.
Some of these have been shared previously somewhere maybe but who’s to say. Carry on.
As often mentioned, i love postcards – both the writing / sending and the buying / collecting. When i find excellent postcards, i am indeed tempted to keep em stashed in a dossier or shoebox for my own amusement, however such action does not allow the humble postcard to fulfil its apparent destiny. As such, as per usual routine, i gather the finest cards, write sentiments (albeit in semi-legible scrawl) upon the back, squeeze in an address, flourish with inky stamps, complete with requisite postal stamps and send send on their way via the magical wormhole of postboxes. However, before sending on their journey, i take snapshots of the front / arty side for art and documentation purposes (sometimes the backs too for personal audit and memory).
This batch comes via a stay in Galle, Sri Lanka where, in the historical Fort Galle (previously Portuguese, Dutch and British), i bought basically everything Stick No Bills had on offer – postcard-wise that is, they also sell posters which aren’t handy for traveling though i have a mighty stack in a storage locker faraway.
Each card rung up with unique UPC barcode resulting in a receipt approx a metre/yard long with 92 entries. I mentioned this dedications to them and they offered me a poster t say “thanks” but alas i split before taking them up on the kindness.
Most notable about Stick No Bills is:
Respect for artists – the art is carefully curated, artists are compensating appropriately and the artwork is reproduced accurately
Quality of materials – delicious tactile cardstock with fine silkscreened ink which feels wonderful under pen and finger
Eclectic variety – as evidenced in my collection shared over 7 volumes, the assortments includes vintage Air Ceylon and hotel art, cinema art, various folklife, landmarks, maps and transportation themed pieces. (They also offered a line featuring funny/weird/unironic english t-shirts worn by local folks which i didn’t collect as i recall.)
Anyhow, mine are shared here for historical record (and modified with my personal stamps to prevent unauthorized reproductions) and your support/purchases is/are encouraged/recommended either by mailorder or even better, stopping into their lovely shop in Fort Galle, Sri Lanka.Tell em Uncle Weed sent ya (they won’t know what you mean but i’ll be amused).
This Underwood Universal was a gift to me when i was about 19 in 1989 living in my VW camper bus. Already well-used, this is/was the typewriter which guided me to love the analog touch and immediacy of a solid metal machine. And its made in Canada like me.
What follows are a few annotation about this machine and the creative works produced with its lovely keys.
While i had always had typewriters around (like me, my Mom and Grandpa were always making newsletters and other projects), they were usually the new electronic models of the day with “ball” type interfaces or the “wheel” kind. Of course, both required electricity which wasn’t an option for me in the van (most of the time anyhow). As such, me and this charming machine spent hours alone as i banged out postcards, missives and manifestos. No evidence handy from that era.