Inanities, Part 1

Several Christmases ago, I got a pork pie hat as a gift. Then, a few birthdays later, I got several very nice silk handkerchiefs. I felt bad, staring at those things just sitting in my closet after a while, so I went out and bought a three-piece suit, and then put everything together. I looked good. I looked like Tom Waits. But then I didn't have many occasions to get all dudded up, and I felt bad about the three-piece suit purchase. So I went and bought an old Remington upright typewriter from the 1930s. I got re-dudded up, sat down at the old word grinder, and I kid you not, this came out:

"And so beauty disappeared, and color followed with it. And the ocean lost its wonder while retaining its scale, transmogrified from the captivating, flowing silk of a rippling parachute into the midnight, gaping wound of a 1940s detective movie. And trees were stripped of their power to lend life to a sidewalk, a courtyard, a public square, becoming nothing but explosions of steel wool atop light poles. All was lost, and the world retreated to gray."

And I thought "HOLY CRAP!! THIS TYPEWRITER'S MAGIC!!" But then this came out next:

"‘I would like some pie,’ is what the circle told the rhomboid, or so the story goes. Just like a circle, never wants to share with anybody. It already had pi."

And I knew that I'd broken the magic typewriter.

However, since I'd sunk all this money into my suit, this antique typewriter, and a roll-top desk (yeah, I got a little carried away), I figured I should keep using the stuff. So now, every Thursday, you can catch me at an old roll-top desk in my three-piece suit, my pork pie, with a silk hankie in my pocket, banging away at a typewriter of the approximate vitage of Surrealism itself. And I've got nothing to do with the stuff that comes out of that thing but post it here.

Lucky you!