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Posts Tagged ‘Pelikan 120’

To The Stars!

Posted by Dirck on 22 January, 2021

Right, so, the US didn’t collapse into civil war over the past couple of weeks, and looks like it probably won’t (fingers crossed). That’s a treat, eh?

With that corner (hopefully) turned, perhaps we can look forward to that brave sci-fi future I was pondering last week. And what’s more brave futuristic sci-fi… as imagined in the middle of last century… than a provocatively dangerous means of space exploration?

I’m trying to not harsh the mellow of this delightful plan by wondering how one would get all that edge-of-critical material into space in the first place. I guess we need to find a big ol’ pitchblende asteroid.

Today’s pen: Pelikan 120
Today’s ink: Monteverde Malibu Blue (oh look, something else I need to come up with a page for)

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Posted by Dirck on 14 January, 2021

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 11 January
  • 12 January
  • 13 January
  • 14 January
  • Errands
  • The promised effort on my site 
  • Why people gotta want stuff?
  • An unsatisfying stub, a real page (the 487) and some behind the scenes stuff.

There was also a little bit of glowing at the news that a story has been held for closer editorial consideration. That’s labour intensive, that is.

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Of Two Minds

Posted by Dirck on 4 October, 2019

I’ve just remembered that it’s Buster Keaton’s birthday. Since I recently stole a movie to do with him, let’s have a look at something that’s contemporary with him… although ferociously updated.

Being a traditionalist in the film department, I have some (several) reservations about this, although I certainly appreciate the effort that’s gone into it.

Today’s pen, serving the head and the hand both: Pelikan 120 (a German with which I Express myself, ho ho)
Today’s ink, chosen by the heart: Herbin Lie de Thé

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How’d You Like Them (Hallowe’en) Apples

Posted by Dirck on 26 October, 2018

I’ve mentioned before that the National Film Board was one of the underpinnings of my whole idea for the Friday Found Film. This new release is delightfully in keeping with the season.  Alas, WordPress won’t have the embedded code the NFB graciously provides, so all I can offer is a link under an enticing(?) image.

For those who like a longer audio version of their Hallowe’en creeps,  the story appears over on Pseudopod.

Today’s pen: Pelikan 120 (possibly eternal)
Today’s ink: Pelikan Brilliant Brown (drawn at intervals from a sleeping vessel)

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Posted by Dirck on 4 October, 2018

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 26 September to 3 October
  • 4 October
  • First draft of “Johnson’s Folly.”
  • First draft of “Heretics.”
  • Six manuscript pages.
  • Five pages
  • A mad rumpus of pens still inked from last week and the Pelikan Hub.
  • Pelikan 120

I did not go to Ontario. My father had a fine time.

I stayed home and saw to my wife’s needs… as well as I could, after twisting the crap out of my ankle shortly before noon on the 26th last.  This put paid to a lot of the “Oh, well, at least I have a week of not going to work so I can do X and Y around the house” notions I had developed the night of my last entry when the final decision was made. Not only did I not accomplish much, what I did manage was painful and frustrating. At least I managed to get antibiotics into the sick cat on a more or less regular basis, even though I had to limp into the basement to catch him for at least half the doses.

I see I did not mention the sick cat in the last entry. Yes, there was also one of those.

And to cap all, I left the book I hardly got anything written in the whole time at home, so to not waste today’s writing time, I had to start something new. Which will get precedence next week, I wonder….

Just so I don’t leave the day on without any shine on it– happy birthday to Buster Keaton, who would, had he defied entropy like he defied physics, be 123 today.

He was, clearly, born to party.

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The Curse of George Bailey

Posted by Dirck on 25 September, 2018

Yes, I know it’s only Tuesday. All will be explained presently.

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 24 September
  • 25 September
  • Second draft of “Kick a Cat…”
  • This thing you’re reading now.
  • 702 typed words.
  • Also roughly 700 words.

Before I explain, I will mention that the Pelikan Hub was a gas, for those who dig on fountain pens, and I strongly plan to attend next year; this means I will also be yelling at people from this pulpit and others to sign up in about ten months. I now have a lot of Pelikans with ink in them, but happily I really like Pelikans.

Now, on with the heart of the matter. On 9 September, while having the regular Sunday dinner with my parents, they asked if I would like to accompany my father to a reunion of his siblings; my mother usually rides shotgun for him, but some minor side-effects of the aging process disincline her to face the demands of travel.

I was slightly hesitant because apart from The Regular Job’s current state…

Yes, I do indeed like this GIF, and will use it too much. It’s evocative.

…I’m the only driver in the house; my wife doesn’t, by choice, and my son is still too young to be legally allowed in the front seat. But wife agreed, having her parents and my mother to rely on for transport and food deliveries, so I explained the situation to my masters at Regular Job, and was granted the necessary week’s leave.

Part of the reason I got asked to attend is because my brother has been to… a couple… of these family get-togethers in the current millenium, while I have not done such a thing since 1996. Why? Because there’s always some damn thing that crops up to prevent me going. It’s usually been work related (not so much a tyrannical denial as fearing starvation for lack of pay upon return), but not always. I have said aloud that I feel somewhat like George Bailey, the put-upon protagonist of It’s a Wonderful Life, who is forever being thwarted in his plans to have travel anywhere for any reason.

In so much as this thought even occurred to me at the time, I put it aside on the grounds that it’s not really a vacation. I saw my role as assistant and chauffeur as well as companion, and that’s sort of like work.

Apparently this view was not shared by the mysterious powers that run the universe.

I got home from work on 10 September to find that my wife was in gasping agony, she thought from an unusually pernicious cramp in her leg. This persisted the way a cramp does not, for days, and she got off to the doctor to get some insight. Consultation, x-rays, and eventually we get the news– through arthritic changes, my wife no longer has any cartilage in her knee, and her hip is looking rather suspect too. We await contact from the rheumatologist her doctor is calling in to advise (while not as bad as US politicians make out, there are some delays in the functioning of Canadian health-care; since I pay naught for it but a small yearly income tax, this inconvenience is balanced out).

So now I’m pinched between duties. I may be departing for thriving, populous Ontario tomorrow morning at about 5:00am, if my wife feels she will be able to look after our son and cats without my assistance in the evenings, and I will spend the following week in mild fit of worry.  The alternative is a week of sick guilt while my father is on his tod in a distant province full of traffic and maple trees, plus the lasting sensation of having caused the waste of money in the form of unused air fare. Unless my father decides he’s not going for want of a companion, in which case the guilt will derive more from knowing that he’s one of the youngest of his siblings, and he may be missing a last encounter with at least one of them.

We do not have any bridges I can offer to pitch myself off of, hopeful of inducing a cherubim in a hobo disguise to intervene.  Even if we did, Clarence’s assistance was more in the line of a feverish acid trip than a proper miracle, and to be honest a miraculous cure of my wife’s ailment is exactly what’s needed.

In any event, I’m incommunicado for the next week; either very far away and busy, or using that time off of work to attend to my wife as fully as I wish I had been doing the past two weeks. I’ll let you know how it came out at the regular progress report time in the first week of October.

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Good Vibrations

Posted by Dirck on 8 September, 2017

This week’s film entry isn’t, again.  It’s just sound.  But this time, it’s just music.

Why?

Because it drifted past in the mad flood of things Youtube thinks I might care about, and as the saying goes, if you throw enough eventually something sticks.

Always been a sucker for that kind of sound.  I hope it’s made you all feel as good as it did me.

Today’s pen: Pelikan 120
Today’s ink: Pelikan Brilliant Brown

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Posted by Dirck on 31 August, 2017

This Week’s Pens Inks How Much Novel Progress
  • 2,812 words typed

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Buckle Up!

Posted by Dirck on 25 August, 2017

YouTube decided, in the depths of its inscrutable algorithmic quasi-sentience, that I wanted to see what I’m showing as today’s film.  I’m not sure that I did, frankly, although it gives the same sort of dizzy separation from reality one gets with a brief whiff of nitrous oxide… and it certainly costs a good deal less!  It doesn’t have too much of the casual racism of it’s day, either… but it is in there, so be warned; expect a moment of lurching stomach, about half way in.  That caveat delivered, it’s time for another trip to Cognitive Malfunction Theatre:

I find myself wondering if this, like the original run of Merrie Melodies from Warner Brothers, was meant to sell music.

Today’s pen: Pelikan 120
Today’s ink: Pelikan Brilliant Brown

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Posted by Dirck on 25 June, 2015

Day What How Much Duration Pen Ink
  • 22 June
  • 23 June
  • 24 June
  • 25 June
  • First draft of “The Parade”.
  • First draft of Choose Your Own Doom.
  • Second draft of “The Parade”.
  • Second draft of “Inconvenient Weekend of the Dead”.
  • 5 manuscript pages and done.
  • Ditto.  Any more messing around gets called second draft.
  • 495 words, and also done.
  • 770 words, also done.
  • 45 min.
  • 55 min.
  • 40 min.
  • 45 min.

The timorous cowering away from the big project of last week became a (probably regrettable) examination of the least possible effort to bring the thing to a conclusion.  I don’t think that’s quite what the chap running the workshop at the end of last month meant by his advice to always be finishing something, but it does get that phase of it off my neck.  In an attempt to hew somewhat closer to the spirit of the advice, I think I’m going to turn to some more second, third and 10,000-grit-polish drafts of some other stuff.  If nothing else, I’ll renew the illusion of momentum I’ve been dazzling myself with.

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