Dead soldier

I love my pen. This past summer, when I was in New York, I decided that I would buy myself a very nice writing fountain pen because I had always wanted one. There was this fabulous pen shop that I came across walking back from Grand Central Station toward Times Square and I just walked in, and knew I had fallen into the trap.

I have always loved pens, and paper. When I was a kid, in Boone, there was this store where you went to buy your office supplies. I think it was called Carolina Business Machines and it was on King Street, on the corner, and my mom had to go there almost every time we went to Boone. There would always be this huge collection of pens, and little places where you could doodle to see if you liked the pen.

I'll bet my mom spent hundreds of dollars there buying me pens. Calligraphy pens, gold and silver ink pens, every color in the world, and every thickness, and feel, and style imaginable over the years. In fact, it is probably that acquiescence to this pen thing that makes me so tolerant of similar traits in my children (which I completely did not realize until I started this entry so... thanks for helping me better understand that deal).

Well after years of experimenting, I knew what I really liked: a very thin line (ideally 0.5mm -- extra fine, they call it), and preferably in blue, but I'll take black. I also got very particular about my writing paper -- the thinner the lines, the better. See I write VERY small... and the small line, and the narrow rule allow me to get more on a paper.

There is something magical about the written word. I love to type, and my obsession about typefaces is well documented. However, being able to write down my to-do list, or make notes in a meeting, gives me some feel that I am leaving a permanent mark in some small way with my hand.

So I walked in a started in the back, where all the cool paper and "cheap" pens were... after doodling and not finding anything that really hits me (btw, my cheap pens are Pilot VBall Grip Extra Fine Pens with blue ink), I sauntered up to the pen counter. Now, let me just say... pen geeks are perhaps a whole different class of people. Having gone to coin club with Drew, the guys at those meetings are pretty close, but the soothing, worshipful words used by the men working at the pen shop was a little creepy. It's that tone of voice that is a mix of aloofness and arrogance with a hint of "I guess I'll deign to sell you this work of art" mentality, but delivered in short sleeve oxford shirts, and ink covered fingers.

So I started explaining what I wanted. Like an idiot, I started the conversation with, "...you know I've wanted to buy a nice pen but I don't really know what I want..." which was greeted with this look of pity not unlike the one a lion gives a antelope that's tripped while running away. So after swatting away some of the traditional crap, I really got specific -- extra thin, blue and flows well...

Issue #1 with an extra-thin tip: sometimes the nib will catch on the paper and screw up what you're writing, or the ink won't flow right and it feels scratchy when you are writing. I hate that... which is why the whole trial-and-error part of finding a pen is so important.

So he then realized that this might actually be a challenge. We tried a number of pens -- and I finally found one that seemed to be the one... Sailor Sapporo Fountain Pen with an extra fine tip. Well after dropping a nice dime on the pen, I also bought a box of refillable ink cartridges so that I wouldn't run out. And I've loved using it nearly every day since.

So today's pic was from early this morning, when my pen ran out of ink. Replacing the cartridge is easy, but you also need to do a little to keep the pen clean, with warm (not hot, or cold) water through the nib and let it dry. But it keeps it clean and wonderful, and ready to write the next words.

A pen is a tool, but a perfectly crafted pen is a piece of art that lets you write beautiful words.

D90 85mm f/1.4 1/80 ISO 400