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Posted by Dirck on 28 December, 2011

My arm is still sore, Winter appears to be finally lowering its fluffy white rump upon us, and thus the spirit of contrariety festers in my bosom.  I will, for as long as the arm allows, give it some vent.

I spend a lot of time in The Regular Job looking at other people’s writing.  I will not go down my usual path of complaining about ballpoints and general inattention to letter formation.  Today’s complaint is more in line with my recent strange lashing-out regarding a completely innocuous pen-cup, in that the degree of ire is so far out of scale to offense that it somewhat baffles me.

Someone sent in a little form filled in with a bold marker.  I stomp around like Hitler hearing about a setback on the eastern front.  Isn’t that sad?  Perhaps it’s the feathering, perhaps the bleedthrough, or perhaps is it something about the apparent lack of care for the eventual reader, but my goat is quite thoroughly gotten.  Using a marker on a porous surface makes so little sense to me I find it authentically offensive.  At least, today it does.  The Sharpie is a blunt instrument in my world.

I try to learn something about myself from my response to the oddities of my fellow humans, since trying to learn something about humanity in general is usually a mere exercise in frustration.  In this case, though, the lesson regards one of my favourite authors, H.P. Lovecraft.  People reading his works often find quaintness in his frequent resort to the trope of people seeing something of intolerable horror, and the sight of it driving them raving mad for a shorter or longer time.  My own joy in reading his stuff doesn’t stifle the occasional snicker on this front on my part… but now I wonder about that.  If looking at simple English words whose only obvious flaw is slight fuzziness drives me into an incomprehensible spasm of intolerance, then perhaps even a modern, blasé person, numbed by TV news and well-funded horror films, might still find an actual eldritch thing from an unclean dimension sufficiently awful to be unbalancing.

So… well done, Old Providence, then.

Today’s pen: Parker Frontier Flighter
Today’s ink: Quink black

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