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April 05, 2008 |
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Chunky Chick
FOUND by Louise Sundermann
in Melbourne, Australia
I bought a typewriter from Savers on Sydney Road.
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Find Another House August 25, 2007 |
Gender Studies February 24, 2002 |
Unite! January 16, 2005 |
Sunset December 21, 2006 |
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We collect FOUND stuff: love letters, birthday cards, kids' homework,
to-do lists, ticket stubs, poetry on napkins, telephone bills, doodles -
anything that gives a glimpse into someone
else's life. Anything goes...
what?!
Louise bought a typewriter and what? Found this in it? Typed this out? Dammit, Louise!!
It sounds like poetry but looks like something I used to have to type in typing class about 30 years ago. Random words and phrases to test your typing speed.
Holy Run-On Sentence, Batman!
And found it in the case? Or typed it and sent it as a "find" which was more of a "made"?
Gotta love manual typewriters. No one ever got repetitive-motion stress syndrome from a Remington!! Who can beat the clicking of a real typewriter?
Ahhhh, but having more than once had to jettison whole pages of translation because of one small phrase...there's a great deal to be said for the computer, too. Not to mention my window on the world!
Like some kinda crazy madlib
"the quick brown dog jumped over the lazy fox" gets the job done but this is better on so many levels.
I know a guy who wrote poetry and prose like this. I don't think he ever had a typewriter, and he lives in Geelong, not Melbourne, but it's still not inconceivable that he wrote it.
Haha... 42 is the answer to life, the universe, everything, and apparently the anti-spam question too!
i bet the finder, louise, found this in the typewriter (still love keying that word, i do, all on the top row) and freaked to read the last line. it's okay, louise, at least all the keys work.
@ night: chick. feel better now?
i believe the typing lesson is "the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog." this one has an "s", thereby including all letters. sry 'bout bein a douche.
reminds me a bit of a dada/ stream of conciousness/ "automatism?" poem.
can anyone please explain how they got the red bits?
Snuffles the pirate hedgehog says : Even though it do look made...every item made was Found by the artist in thier hearts and souls...
Santa is as real as you let him be he lives in my heart for one. You can find him there year round save easter than an evil bunny chases him away.
I must say if it wasn't made than I'd be creeped out by the last line typed containing the buyer's name. That would remind me of some cheesy books I loved as a kid called goosebumps it seems like a story that either was or would've been.
hot dogs: and here i thought i was being clever, lol... i knew i had something wrong
Welcome whats cookin! Are you new here? Just don't remember seeing that moniker...
A couple of years ago in the days when it seemed like everyone was IM-ing a lot. The Yahoo instant messenger service had a feature that you could turn out to make your typing sound like a typewriter. That was so fun.
Katie in Garage: the ribbon on the typewriter had a two colors on it (at least for this typewriter--not all did). The bottom portion was read and the top would have been black. The keys normally would strike the black portion but you could hit a key (not unlike the shift key) and it would then strike the red portion. When self correcting typewriters were developed they had the same concept only there was a second ribbon with something like White Out on it. There were also self correcting typewriters that worked by typing backwards and a special tape lifted the ink off the paper. Before any of that you corrected your work with a little slip of paper with white out on it that you stuck in the machine and typed the same letter over it to cover the mistake. There was also erasable paper (my personal fave). Before all that I'm pretty sure people didn't make mistakes when typing.
I'm old enough to remember having and using typewriters but not the kind you had to manually return. For my birthday my freshman year in college I got a NEW typewriter. My other one had been a hand-me-down. And it had self-correcting ribbon. Woo-hoo! Now that was big time. I was one of the few people who had one. Most people had to go to the typewriter lab to type. I even made money typing papers for people. Hated the profs who wanted footnotes on the bottom. My, my how Word changed the life of a college student.
Sorry if this has gotten so long...
The red words remind of a strange book that came out a few years ago. Can't remember the title, but the author was Daniel SomethingUnpronouncablyPolish (his sister is the singer Poe). It had some words in blue.
@Ling Hi - This beats a run-on sentence. It's more like a road trip sentence!
mmmm I like mushromms and zucchini, too.. but zucchini just doesn't produce the same effect as the mushrooms. (the effect resulting in something akin to this note..) Perhaps I'm preparting it wrong.
I have that book, 501 French Verbs, somewhere.
Just remembered something else fun! The IBM Selectic had this little ball that the letters and numbers etc were on. The ball spun around and the faster you could type the faster the little ball went. You could buy different balls that had different fonts on them! Yes, it's true! Now that was great. Prior to that we were stuck with Pica and Elite. Wonder what that little ball was called.
It's not the note that is the 'Found' item, it's the typewriter itself. You never know, when you go to a Savers store, what you will find, as it's a thrift shop that resells second-hand items, many of them donated.
This is great! I remember the two-color typewriter ribbons. One of my favorite childhood memories is going to my dad's big desk and plunking on his big heavy black manual typewriter. Thanks to Cat for the detailed walk down the typewriter memory lane.. I remember every step! I also remember also carbon paper when we needed copies. It came in black, blue and red. My parents were both teachers. We had a never-ending supply of carbon paper and a variety of typewriters and typing paper. One year my mother used one of my drawings for her Christmas card and took it to school to mimeograph copies. Purple ink.
Back to the poem (or test of typewriter functionality). It must be significant that they were reading 501 French Verbs! Mirrors looking into each other are always fascinating.
This is a really cool find.
House of Leaves
F'n weird book
The first 7 1/2 lines are totally incoherent babble, the last 4 1/2 are kind of nicely poetic.
Mushrooms are disgusting.
Take a lesson people: THAT's how you write an upfront note to go with the found. No musing. No pontification. No four score and seven years ago. No my girlfriend and I like to buy organic produce down the way at the farmer's market that happens every other Saturday and one rainy Saturday we happened to stop on the way there to put some air in our tire at the gas station where my dad once found a quarter when I was ten. Short. Sweet. One simple sentence. Yay! Let's all be that way!
Clover, remember the wonderful smell of the "dittoed" quizzes when they were handed out fresh off the machine? One Christmas all our end-of-term tests were done in green!
I'm so old I was taught to hand centre a document on a manual typewriter. Ah, the springy feeling of real typewriter keys under one's fingers. Almost as good as kneading your own bread dough.
Flargy, mushrooms (particularly oyster mushrooms) are the food of the gods. You just don't know how to cook them. Mushrooms are why God gave us garlic and basil.
@that book in previous post, I actually bought "House of Leaves: and attempted to read every last bit of it. I thought my head would explode. Assuming it is possible to actually measure your progress in that book, I got about half way through it and had to quit.
Another, much earlier book, Buckminster Fuller's "I Seem to Be a Verb" was the first jumbled book I'd encountered. There was an essay that was typed in a single line, in the middle of the page, throughout the book. When you got to the end, you flipped the book over and read back to the beginning. Additionally, there was the narrations/captions/quotations tht went with the many photographs and illustrations on the top of the page and on the bottom. This book was assigned reading for my ninth grade English class, taught by a cooler-than-most teacher, Mrs. Swan.
When I read his found I automatically thought of a game I used to play with friends. I'm sure you guys have all played it --
A sentence is started. All of it but one or two words is covered up before it is sent to the next person. That person adds on to the story -- and it keeps going until it's done. It usually turns out really wacky like that.
I think there are some online versions.
uhhh.......?
Ah, the joys of typing random stuff when 'trying out' a typewriter!
see
http://www.foundmagazine.com/comments/405
This is wonderfully creative though.
But they haven't understood about whizzing the carriage back to the beginning of each line yet (PING!!).
@What's cookin -- er...
'The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog'...
'Pack my box with five dozen liquor jugs'...
CuriousKat, it was an IBM Golfball. I missed out on that technology! -- straight from manual typewriter to Amstrad PCW. I still have my portable typewriter, plus another someone left to me which has French accents on it. Can't get the two-colour ribbons any more though (but I still have packets of TippEx correcting sheets too, and no doubt some carbon paper somewhere).
A Golfball! Of course, I could have guessed Jonathan would know that. It really did look like a golf ball. My little portable typewriter came in a little thing that looked like a suitcase. It was cute. But heavy as all get-out.
LOL @ Baby Basil.. I remember that smell of fresh dittoes- and all the kids in the class breathing deeply of the aroma, and saying, "aaaaahhhhh!"
Nowadays they call it HUFFING!! Even the teacher enjoyed the daily ditto sheets.
As for typewriters, I liked the little font balls, but I liked the actual typewriter keys much better.. something so creepy cool about those long silver arms coming up and smacking the paper through the ribbon!
disturbing feeling best bystander lousie.
a pox on your Louiseness.
Staring down at the shattered bits of the mirror Louise felt shattered herself as if her whole existence had come loose and fallen to the ground with the pieces of mirror glass. While she was staring at the remains of her existence Louise felt dizzy as a cold and devastating wind came crashing through the tunnel in which she was standing and pummeled the poor girl with droplets of glass sharp rainwater and boogy man breath that swept her off her feet and blew her away. being blown away was not as unpleasant as one would have thought and after the terror subsided and the piss dried from her legs, Louise began to enjoy the experience.She watched the liquid red rubber balls shoot by her head, almost hitting her nogin and the blue and silver turkeys chase the headless politicians and thought: "When will the goiliwogs hit the fan?"
I have a typewriter. It's not really old (early 90's), it has a word processor on it. You can type out your document and see it whiz by on the little screen, then you can have the typewriter print it out. It sounds awesome, I wish they could make printers sound like that.
Sounds to me like crazy prison or terrorist code. The FBI should have a look at it!
Hahaha! Almost all my favorite commenters are here this morning! (Come out and play, Crisis!)
Who needs a backstory when you've got one hand in your pocket?
Smallbear is eating up his store of mushrooms before ravaging the new green shoots of spring.
I hope young Katie can find an old typewriter in the garage to follow along with CuriousKat's detailed description.
Lars, thank you. I DO feel better. "Bread" gave you away. No self-respecting dude would admit to listening to that. (But they were great songs, weren't they?)
Jonathan, my middle name is Louise! You've cursed my Louiseness through and through. Argh!
I can visualize this rant and it feels like it could almost be a scene right out of the movie "Naked Lunch". Very strange and oddly poetic.
Does anyone know what happened to the playwright? Was it Rex? One of these comments made me think of those stories he used to tell about the finds.
I just love this find and all my found friends too!
Hey, Clove: on the Sept 11 (2007) Rex told a fabulous fun story. I don't know if he comes here anymore but I've seen his website/blog thing. It's called Rex Winsome. I was curious about him because he's from Milwaukee--you know the cheesehead connection and all. I don't remember the name of the Find. I just know the date.
As soon as Louise spoke this thought out loud the Goiliwogs appeared in front of her and began speaking in a multitude of languages.None of which she understood. With their obscenely long arms the Goiliwogs hit her over the head and said in Aristocratic English; " Noggin is spelled with two g's you twit!" With that pronouncement they snorted through their proboscises, releasing a shower of sticky, purple snot that, of course,spread itself all over poor Louise. As if weighed down with a twenty ton barbell this snot sent the girl crashing to the ground, landing her on her tender bottom. "Ow!!" she exclaimed. At that moment a Nightingale landed at her feet.
Oh Maaaaannn Ima get me summa them 'zooms!!!!
Time to do some pruning of long unused braincells.
Lord Lord Landlord.
poor louise...
-Smallbear, "boogy man breath" - I LOVE IT! very descriptive.
The nightingale was not an ordinary bird brain of course, she was Night N. Gale, speaker of every language ever invented and even some that had not yet been invented, she was fifty feet tall and a hundred feet long and she knew more than ordinary web surfers. For instance she knew that 45 divided by 3 is 15 and that June follows July, unless you take into consideration that in some times and in other places ( some not yet thought of even) June is spelled Enuj and that July is called February and that December is not even on the calender,and she knew that tigers have striped skin as well as striped fur and that no words in the English language rhyme with month, orange,silver or purple. The Big Bird was about
to continue showing off her retinue of useless knowledge, which to this point she had not even given voice to, but which poor Louise has still heard inside her pretty little head, when the aforementioned Louise shouted: "Shut up!!"
At this Night N. Gale startled and flew away in a fierce gale wind like the leftover farts of a giant with indigestion and let go a polar bear's belly colored poop that sailed on the considerably breeze and which, of course, landed on Louise's purple colored head.
Wiping away this most recent indignity Louise pondered her recent fate and wondered about stars (lower case, like our Sun which of course is spelled with a capital letter) and Stars (upper case, like Paris Hilton and Britney, who of course have no dignity and should not be thought of at all if one can avoid it) and wondered if either of those two had ever had both Goiliwog snot and nightingale poop on her head and then realized that even those two had more sense than to let that happen. With this Louise let go her last shred of British Stiff Upper Lip and cried.
The liquid red rubber balls appeared again and bounced (Boing!) and bounced (boing!) in geometric patterns that the girl would have found amazing if she had been watching. They bounced in triangles and octagons and even dodectrahedrons. Finishing off by making a geodesic dome; they were of course Buckyballs, or more scientifically Buckminsterfulerines.
The dome suddenly released a noxious cloud-like substance that floated over poor Louise's head. She looked up in terror of the sudden deluge of what was surely to be some new, sticky and disgusting form of bodily fluid that would be poured upon her head. Her lip trembled. Her eyes were as wide open as the commitment to keeping troops in Iraq. Her mouth opened in a scream and then it came. The cloud lowered itself onto her as gingerly as a 15 year old virgin on the girl next door.(Which ironically Louise was, both virgin and girl next door.) The girl yawned and fell asleep.
stop it, mr. peterson, you're scaring me.
Ummmm whatever smallbear's smoking, can I have some, too? (oh wait- not smoking: chomping. still, can I?)
Wah! Jonathan take the curse off my Louiseness. Please! Smallbear is freaking me out, man. He's put my percentage of personal info right off the chart. Wah!
Baby Basil, you are so terribly confused. PESTO is why g-d gave us Garlic and Basil.
Of course I don't know how to cook mushrooms. Why on Earth would I want to learn how to cook such a vile, fungal organism? I've tried them in enough different forms to know that there's no hope of them ever being considered edible by sane and rational people.
I spent a lot of time in childhood exploring this great ravine behind the house I grew up in. Among the many creatures I would catch back there were salamanders. If salamanders have a cousin in the plant kingdom, it's mushrooms. Exact same texture, but I only know a couple of people who would willingly eat a salamander.
By the way, did I mention that I'm occasionally a tiny bit opinionated?
There's pretty much only ONE reason to consume mushroooms. ask Smallbear. he (she? who knows) will tell you. And you don't need to cook them with garlic and basil. brew them up with honey lemon tea.
Sorry, Nightingale, I had no idea. Your Louiseness is just adorable. (No shaving, OK??)
Smallbear is freaking me out too. Do you think he is Ancient Vivi on acid? Or possibly prescription medications.
I think Rex Winsome is still out there, probably getting on with Real Life ( = theatre and politics!). I don't doubt he'll be back. Hi, Rex.
Mushrooms grow in cow shit. Nuff said.
Hey if you just look at the red letters it looks like some kind of code.
"sturbing feeling best bystander louise"
which could be
"bursting feeling best stand by 'er (read her), louise".
or even
"Bursting (with) feeling. (It would be)best (for me to)standby. Er, Louise (you there)?"
Just a thought.
@ The Captain --
'I remember that smell of fresh dittoes' must be one of those sentences you could never have imagined yourself saying.
Unless you were Smallbear on whatever Smallbear is on, of course.
The first part says chunky chicken is like eating mushrooms and zuchini. which I believe is false and I also believe I may have never eaten "chunky" chicken.