Apollo Fields | Dear Blank | Dear Typewriter | By Terrence Huie | Writer

Dear Typewriter,

Oh how I’ve missed you so. Your clicks and clacks, whirls and dings. I wrote without you when I was in Aruba but it just wasn’t the same. You help me get in tune with my thoughts, almost like your sounds are meditations.

I thought about bringing you along but you only get so many bags and clothes and diapers are more important. Plus I know that Heather and I have some alternative practices in life, but I don’t think I’m quite hipster enough to strum you in public. Not unless I’m writing poems and getting paid for it or something.

Did you miss me? It’s wild to think of all your brothers, sisters, and cousins collecting dust in antique shops all over the world. It’s a shame to have so many instruments of creativity lay dormant, waiting for the right person with the right amount of money. Sometimes access can be everything in life.

I remember when we got you. You were tucked into a shop next to an adult video store on Sheridan Boulevard in Westminster, Colorado. Your ribbon was a little old but other than that you were in perfect working order. Still are! I hate saying cliches but they keep proving to be true: they don’t make things like they used to. I’ve deduced that you were born in the early 60’s.

It’s fun to think about where you have been, what you have helped people say. Too many things go unsaid. You’ve given me the push to so many ideas and feelings that I can’t wait for the rest of this project to unfold. To get excited for the creation of that which does not yet exist, ideas that have not yet been thought. That is the best thing an instrument can do.

It’s good to have you back.

Love,

Terrence