July 8, 2025
I’ve not entered much here in this electronic journal all year. I’ve been reeling through a 60-yard scroll on the Selectric. Imagine, no page changes, no greedy printer to feed– If I could spell I’d never have to stop for gas, Ironman at the wheel for days in a two-lane blacktop trance. When it’s my turn at the wheel I drive like nobody’s business. One hundred and twenty volts of prose-to-go and free-flow lightning, and sure, some gibberish and rogue lines here and there— surprises for the read-back in a couple years, laughter and tears, the thrill of victory, the agony of forgetting how to spell connoisseur every single damn time. It’s like missing a shift and grinding the gears. I’ll nail it next time- two n’s, two esses– double-clutch it if necessary. How could I forget? Candy hasn’t seen much play lately either. So I took her out in the rain today and got her good and wet.
— — —
I loaded a sheet of paper & took her out on the front step to watch this wicked storm roll in. It’s been a while since I took Candy for a spin. Heck, it seems like forever since I’ve taken off her dustcover. She’s so clean and shiny underneath but these hammers ain’t been thrown in ages. Overhead, the jets are coming in all sideways and in a hurry, skirting the storm, racing the rain, following an unusual flight path, trying to tunnel their way in to the airport before the skies collapse on them. Any second now the sky will light up, lightning will crack down, thunder will ro11.
It’s going to be a good one. Candices has been wet before. No worries. She ain’t afraid of no rain. Maybe I’ll wax her before we go out into the next storm. I want to see the rain bead on her luscious oxblood frame.
(Inquiry for the marketing dept.— Is there a market for Typewriter Wax?)
Oooo, here it comes. The wind just arrived, hit like a brick wall falling. Ooo-weee, it’s gonna raaaiiinnn! Tie down the commas and loose punctuation or it’ll blow away. Flash! & thousand one & thousand two & thousand thr—Bang! Two & 1/2 clicks out and picking up speed. She’s moving. Saddle up, Candy, and hang on to your ribbons. No windshield wipers on this ride.
And the clouds just shifted. Going the wrong way now. Coming out of the southeast! I thought this storm smelled somewhat nautical. It’s already tasted the ocean, carrying it high in dark layers, the black eye churning like a bruised sea. This one may be nasty.
Surely it will soon open up on Candy & me. This will be a memorable outing. Perhaps I don’t take Candy out enough these days. But Candy’s mainly for poetry and I’ve been taking down speednotes and/or scrolling electric prose on the Selectric all summer. I’m about 50 yards into this drive. Which makes it first & 10 to go until The End. Hey, how did we get on to football? Candy, I know it’s been a spell too long but it’s baseball season now. It’s July. I apo1ogize. Seven months may have gone by. We won’t keep you under wraps for much longer. You know the poetry will flow again. You know how we like the sun in September. Almost as much as the Moon in our mid Gemini June. Oh, Candy, you’re such a haunted Scorpio. So how do you know so much about us Twins?
It shifted again! The wayward winds suggest rotation. The clouds, about to burst, turn, pushing back to the southeast. Streaming out of the northwest now!? Weird winds. The sky, the angry, angry, unpredictable sky around here, black and blue and dropping electricity, splintering the air… the hair on the back of my neck st— Flash! & thousand one— Bang! On top of us now. Here it comes, heavy as a breaking wave. Downpour and deluge. Here comes the rain!
“Candy?”
“Yes.”
“I love writing in the rain.”
“Tis better than wild fires.”
Roll credits on the cassette deck:
candy cigarette – PUSA
Sex & Candy – Marcy Playground
Candyland – Heatmiser
Candy-O – The Cars
I Want Candy – Bow Wow Wow
Candy’s Going Bad – Golden Earrring
Candy (demo) – PUSA