Vivid at my side,
Denying you sprang out of my head,
Claiming you feel
Love fiery enough to prove flesh real,
Though it's quite clear
All your beauty, all your wit, is a gift, my dear,
Lately, though, the machine has started to falter, and McCarthy is looking to upgrade. It’s no surprise. The author reckons he has put around 5 million words on its clock, and maintenance consisted of “blowing out the dust with a service station hose.” The typewriter will be auctioned this Friday, and the auction house Christie’s estimates it will fetch between $15,000 and $20,000.
McCarthy already has his new writing machine. Can you guess what it might be? A new MacBook Pro, perhaps, or maybe a nice, easy-to-carry netbook (the Olivetti is a portable model)? As you probably figured, McCarthy isn’t one for such modern frivolities. The Olivetti’s replacement is another Olivetti, bought by McCarthy’s friend John Miller for $11.
The missing starts already.
my head races
to catch up with what
my heart has known
It's a dead weight.
Flopping and messy,
unable to predict where its head will roll.
I can carry it
I've forged a life inside its cage.
I no longer breathe alone.
Luisa: Thank you.
Guido: What for?
Luisa: Thank you for reminding me I'm not special. You don't even see what you do to me. Even the moments I think are ours, it's just... you working to get what you want.