Demeter, Typewriter of the Olympians

I recently purchased a beautiful, vintage Green Goddess–the 1960 Olympia SM4 portable typewriter in this very picture. Demeter needs a small amount of restoration and repairs, which I think I can handle. i have no idea what i’m doing. I’m a little obsessed, am on *every* typewriter message board and blog, and am performing the surgical procedures a little at a time. The chrome clasps on her adorable travel case have some rust, and I’m tackling that too. Guys, I’m psyched about her new ribbon: black on top and purple on the bottom. Her 1960 ribbon had no words.

Olympia SM4 Portable Typewriter

1960 Olympia SM4 Portable Typewriter

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Domain, Sweet Domain

I planted my flag in the rich and fertile lands of domain ownership (rentership?) yesterday. Do I own this domain, even though I must pay a yearly fee? As a former IT person I feel like I should know the answer.

Regardless, this hectare is mine, all mine. Wipe the mud off your feet and close the door; we don’t live in a barn.

Mansplaining for bears: Less fun than manscaping. While reading a Berenstain Bears book to my niece, G, today, I was blindsided by misogyny. Mama Bear attempted to explain Thanksgiving to the cubs, but Papa Bear interrupted Mama Bear and mansplained all over her monologue. Page images below.

As a side note, I looked up the spelling of Berenstain a moment ago and was surprised the name ends with “stain.”

Haiku: My Name is Aardvark

Aardvark, Aardvark, yes!
Aardvark, Aardvark, Aardvark, yes!
Just call me Aardvark!

I’m sick, and loopy on cold meds. That’s my only excuse.

Haiku: Misgivings about Thanksgiving

Thanks for the smallpox.
For killing all the bison.
War, famine…murder.

Written after a strange conversation with friends about what exactly we’re “celebrating” each Thanksgiving.

Haiku: Water Under the Bridge

I miss us sometimes.
Remembering the good times.
We had no bad times.

Written for my friend, Adam, when we were both feeling melancholy about people who’d left our lives.

Haiku: Ghost in My Bedroom

I see you, sort of.
Billowing, fair. Even though
no air stirs your hair.

Maybe I should’ve changed the last word and made it about jellyfish since I don’t believe in ghosts. Anyway, just having fun experimenting with creating a sense of meaning inside the constraints of this form.

Haiku, Questions for the Dinosaur on my shoulder:

Did you always have
feathers? Where did your fangs go?
Would you like some steak?

~Renee H. Gannon
Sept 15, 2009

Silence of the Lambs, Buffalo Bill’s Haiku

Man suit. Must make a
woman suit. Nice, pale skin. Do
you like this lotion?

~Renee H. Gannon
Sept 15, 2009

Haiku: Teenage Vampire vs. Werewolf – Bragging Rites

My fangs are better
than yours. Long, sharp, leave gaping
holes. In your mom’s neck.

Zombie Haiku

Decay. Flesh, peeling.
Rot, melting. Nerves lack feeling.
Dead things. Mind, reeling.

~Renee H. Gannon
Sept 5, 2009

I wrote that during a Dragon*Con 2009 panel (at the request of a panel host). I sometimes don’t get the correct number of syllables lined up, but I think it worked out this time.