So, I am a pen and paper guy. I have knowledge of, made considered judgements about, and am willing to share my opinions about pens and paper and to some extent pencils. I can, and will speak extensively in support of my opinion and life experience that brings me to how we get there.
But, right now, my head is pulled asunder by click pens. A deviation from the life norm, and it is throwing me off center like a white man without enough work to do in his fifties can get to. The ultimate bit of nonsense. But, that is where we are.
This is where we start.
This is the Sanford Expresso pen. This is not a pen I endorse, but it is my first. It is my first pen not for the writing end, because that was terrible even to a much younger me. But, because of the angle on the end of the cap. This is signifcant because I am colorblind, and a child of Thrasher magazine. In high school notebooks were very similarly colored for whatever reason. My colorblindness made this to be a bit of a struggle. You add in the birth of Thrasher, and you find yourself at a 14 year old boy sitting in his room cutting images and words out of magazines, and making collages on his notebooks. You affix the pictures with Scotch tape.
In the mid mid 80s, when you applied Scotch tape it was a different texture. But, if you took the end of your Expresso pen you could rub those pieces of tape and that can get you to a clearer look. The tape becomes less visible. So, that is where we start.
Then this happens.
And I find MY pen. My lifelong companion. My guys all adopt it. If you found us out there in the 1990s, every crew and band member had it in our shirt. It was the Uniball Micro.
I thought this would be my pen until I died. Brand consistent. I never thought it would be improved on. But, then the story of the pens and the Camp David Accords. Then, Pat Peckham and the Parker Jotter. You see, Pat gave me a Parker Jotter. Then Pat became a pen maker.
Every pen Pat made for me, or for friends, was significant. THe wood had a story, the ink was a choice. The first pen he made me was from a log that was sunk in Lake Superior back in the day, and was harvested. And all of the pens have cool stories. Then Pat died.
Along the way, the pocket notebook happened, and I clipped the Parker Jotter to it. and it serves me perfectly well.
But, I lost my job, and all of a sudden the Uniball is threatened. I am filled with curiosity about inexpensive clicky pens. Not cap pens.
Like these guys.
Or these.
Or my Grandpas pen.
I put away Pats pens, and am writing this summer almost exclusively with ball points. Except Hannifins navy G2. But suddenly, I am distracted, filled with nonsense distraction about this sort of stuff.
Yes, of course, this is a symptom of other stuff, but lets stay with pens.
For whatever reason it is my desire to have the one pen. Like when I die, my niece will think of one PEN as Uncle Dino’s pen. The same way she will think of this as my watch.
I mean, I love ball point pens. But, I cannot find one other than the Jotter with a decent clippy thing. And while I do not need to clip it to my shirt while I sleep in the van, that is still the standard.
It is a strange time to be in my head. I mean, I bought one of these.
It is a cool thing, maybe. They make a point of talking about ocean garbage, and it uses the G2 refil work horse, so you only need to have one until the clipy thing breaks, then you can get another I suppose.
But, the thing is, this is an itch in my head right now. It is a fun thing to rumble with.