Hunt and Peck

Burden of Dreams / Keypad Dyslexia

In 1983, I left my Santa Barbara studio and set off on a 16-month Rotary Journalism Fellowship to Kathmandu. Taking up half the space in my backpack was a Smith Corona portable typewriter, robin’s egg blue, in its full metal jacket. I also packed a box of carbon paper (there were no photocopy machines in Nepal), two spare typewriter ribbons, and three bottles of correction fluid.

Every morning, for the next year and a half, I would wake up at about 6 a.m. to the sound of roosters and bells, puja horns, and the bleating of doomed goats. I’d dress, eat some fruit and yogurt, and smoke a bowl of Nepali hashish. Then I would sit down at my desk, slip two sheets of paper under the platen (carbon paper in between) and -- using two fingers on each hand -- peck out a letter to one of my friends back home. Though I’ve never learned to type, you’d have been amazed by the steady, jazzy, percussive rhythm of the keys.

Typed manuscript pages from Mister Raja’s Neighborhood, 1983-1984

In the early 1980s, before that trip to Nepal, I was primarily a visual artist. Many of my closest friends back in Santa Barbara were artists as well. In long, dense letters I described my life in Nepal with what I hoped was an artist’s eye, sharing my joy and astonishment as I partook of day-to-day life in “The World’s Only Hindu Kingdom.” Collected and culled, those letters would become, in 1986, my first book: Mister Raja’s Neighborhood.

Though I came and went, my Smith Corona stayed in Nepal. On a return visit in 1988, while living with my dear departed friend Ray Rodney, the machine was drafted into service for my second book, Shopping for Buddhas. And in Nepal the typewriter would remain, for the next 20 years, until my beloved friend Alison Wright -- who would be the inspiration for the female protagonist in Snake Lake -- bequeathed it, with my blessing, to a pre-adolescent expat girl with literary aspirations of her own. (Alison died in a tragic diving accident in 2022. Her brilliant writing and photography live on.)

Alison Wright with my Smith Corona. The note says, “Mr. Raja’s Neighborhood by Jeff Greenwald was written on this magnificent piece of machinery.”

All this to say that I have a deeply nostalgic love of typewriters, despite having moved to a MacBook Air. So when my writer/traveler/mother-of-two/still typing friend Jeyn invited me on a field trip to Berkeley Typewriter to drop off her Brother Deluxe 100 for repair, I accepted gladly. Jeyn is, after all, the same friend who introduced me to the work of Nick Dong, the artist at the center of my previous post.

For a writer like me, Berkeley Typewriter -- featured in the 2016 documentary California Typewriter -- is like a candy store. But not just any candy store; the kind that sells vintage sweets like Twix, Turkish Taffy, Lemon-Heads, and Nickel Nips. I wandered around under a spell of nostalgia, hunting and pecking on various machines, remembering fondly the days before life was digitized, and the only copy of a manuscript was the one piling up to the right of your carriage.

A vintage Underwood; letter from Tom Hanks

Berkeley Typewriter has been in existence for 88 years, and its clientele includes luminaries like Julia Roberts and typewriter fanatic Tom Hanks, who himself bequeathed to the shop a specimen from his own collection of 200+ machines. It was tempting to buy one of the refurbished portables -- like the Swiss-made Hermes 3000 -- and reclaim the joyful four-finger music my fingers made during my late 20s and early 30s. Would that even be possible?

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But I already know the answer to that question. Over the past few years it’s become increasingly difficult for me to type at all, as the finer motor motions of my hands are diminished by the creeping influence of Parkinson’s.

It's not just speed, but accuracy. A funny thing is happening: I find myself constantly transposing letters, in what appears to be a sort of keypad dyslexia. A tyipcla sentecne might loko like this. Why? Because my left side is a hair slower than my right, so that while I might think I’m typing an s before p, my right hand gets there first, so the result is very pseical. Nearly every sentence I type has at least a quarter of its words confused.

Ah, Parkinson’s: “The gift that keeps on taking.” I can still tie my own shoes, but the unheralded dexterity required to spiral linguine onto a fork has its challenges. Rolling up my right sleeve is a process, and -- being left-handed -- I’m becoming increasingly reliant on my ambidextrous electric toothbrush. Nostalgia be damned, I’m super grateful this was not happening in the world before word processors. Liquid Paper wise, I’d have a quart-a-day habit.

Machines for sale at Berkeley Typewriter / Jeyn with her beloved Deluxe 100

So, subscribers: I’d like to find a good speech-to-text dictation program. Right now I’m using the one bundled with Word, under the drop-down “Edit” menu. But there must be something out there that’s better, and more intuitive. Any suggestions?

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A couple of things before we part. First: If you are reading this on Tuesday, August 27th, I’m well on my way to the Black Rock Desert for my 13th Burn. To paraphrase our next President: I’m out of my mind. But you know me… I have to try. So wish me luck. I know that my fellow Burners will miss this post, so I’ll likely send out a re-post just after my return, on September 4th.

Next, I’d like to remind you about two marvelous trips I’ll be leading at the end of this year and the beginning of next.

In November, writing coach Laurie Wagner and I will be leading the Wild Writing Nepal workshop to the Kathmandu Valley. It’s truly a life-changing experience, for writers and non-writers alike. If you’ve ever dreamed of visiting Nepal, this is a wonderful opportunity.

Boudha temple in Kathmandu / Cuban guitarist

Two months later, in January 2025, I’ll be taking a small group of people (15 at most) to Cuba, where we’ll celebrate Havana’s Plaza Jazz Festival and journey from the north coast to the south coast cultural capital of Trinidad. Curious about Cuba? I’ll tell you this: I love the place.

That wraps it up for now. Enjoy the last weeks of summer break, and Happy Labor Day!