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Posts Tagged ‘Pelikan Souverän’

Hey, Wait! It’s October!

Posted by Dirck on 11 October, 2019

That means I should be putting up the rubber bats and artificial spiders! This is good news for the real bats and spiders, who can honestly do with a vacation.

Since last week’s film (a colourized, dubbed Metropolis) got a totally predictable copyright strike, I’m putting up something this week which is nothing like it: it’s new, it’s entirely original content by the person posting it, it’s meant to be in colour, it comes with it’s own voice track, and… well, there’s some saltiness in that talking. But that’s fine. He’s talking about that most noble of things– horror films.

There. Never let it be said that art-theory presentations need to be dry or unentertaining.

Today’s pen: Pelikan M600
Today’s ink: Diamine Evergreen

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Posted by Dirck on 3 October, 2019

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 30 September
  • 1 October
  • 2 October
  • 3 October
  • Three stories… so far.

As I explain over there, I’m squandering my writing time this month on a misappropriation of Inktober– the eagle-eyed here will have seen the notices advancing down the left-hand sidebar. Daily stories, all month long! EVEN WEEKENDS!

And I got so busy at that, I am rather late posting this.

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Posted by Dirck on 26 September, 2019

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 23 September
  • 24 September
  • 25 September
  • 26 September
  • Second draft of “Whistling Through the Graveyard”
  • An oddly precise 2450 typed words.

 

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Hub Fun 2019

Posted by Dirck on 23 September, 2019

I was going to be all entertaining for this entry, but that’s before insomnia struck. It struck my son, but the effect on me is the same since sleep is knits up no sleaves when there’s a very happy boy quietly reciting whole episodes of his favourite shows (aware that turning on the iPad would be unfair to his parents) and giggling at the memory of some of the sight-gags which accompanied.

So. It was jolly fun, for the definition of “fun” specific to we who enjoy fountain pens to a strange degree, and since I’m not up to stringing a LOT of words together, let me rely on the power of captioned photos.

My writing enterprise refers to “living skies” of which this is an example, although a mild and inviting variant as befits a happy night.

Turning around, and taking advantage of the “magic hour” light film-makers rave so much about, let’s show you all this Paper Umbrella place which I so often refer to– the venue for the night’s diversion.

One of the proprietors is a calligrapher.

My lineup for the night, arranged with labels so those inclined to give them a try would know what they held. I brought neither the most, the most expensive, nor the oldest.

Under the banner of the hub. I’ll likely get in trouble for this, as I have no photo waivers from any of these people. The Hubmaster is the fellow in the green shirt at the left.

“Are only Pelikan pens allowed?” NO! As my own suite attests, non-Pelikans appear, and someone even brought this extremely traditional pen; I think the manufacturer is Goose.

Some of the other not-Pelikans which attended, with representatives from the 1920s right up to fresh and new, as well as most stops along the road from cheap to rather expensive (nothing ludicrously costly appeared… unlike last year).

The Pelikan Hub Gift Bag, full of stuff from Pelikan to gladden the heart. My wife got the bottle of Ink of the Year, as it’s a colour she much prefers; I’m content with having been at the event. And also the magazine. And the other stuff.

That’s it. I’m already looking forward to next year. Although, to be honest, what I’m looking more forward to is bedtime tonight.

Today’s pen: Pelikan M600
Today’s ink: Diamine Evergreen

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Who Says Germans are Dour?

Posted by Dirck on 19 September, 2019

Oh, you know the stereotype; cool, efficient, probably wearing a black turtleneck.

Stereotypes, man. I should be wearing a lot more flannel, according to international concepts of my nation.

Now, the usual Thursday entry, which will display what an atypical week this has been in more ways than one. It’s not just the impending Pelikan Hub that has kept me from my usual industry– there’s been a lot of stupid demands on my time this week, and they rendered me dull or incapable of using my free time as I would wish. This was, by the way, AFTER choices of ink were made– that degree of dull unoriginality happens without any outside influence, and with a huge array of bottles from several brands all laid out in front of me.

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 16 September
  • 17 September
  • 18 September
  • 19 September
  • First draft of “Whistling Through the Graveyard”.
  • Third draft of “Disruptions on the Line” (nee “Underground Follies”).
  • 5 manuscript pages.
  • About 10 minutes of mildly-focused attention.

 

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Trans-dimensional

Posted by Dirck on 3 May, 2019

I’m sure we’ve all heard of the concept of multiple universes, whether we accept them or not. Occasionally, one stumbles across an item which gives the idea a little shove into the foreground. “This thing,” one says, “cannot have sprung up in the history I know. This thing is from a similar place, but not the same.”

I was shown one of these this week, and I’m going to share it with you. It’s probably just a prime example of novel-length source material being horribly handled on its way down to a audio-visual version one can easily sit through, but it may also have slithered through a pore in the skin of the universe.

Aside to the possible violence it might do to your notions of causality, it’s also a little hard to take for purely artistic reasons. The fact that stuff like this was considered cutting-edge entertainment in my childhood is part of the reason why I don’t get too nostalgic for that time. Other reasons include… well, when you’ve got a few minutes to spend weeping with despair, google “1970s fashion” and consider the poor kid who had to look at that stuff every time he left the house… or regarded himself in a mirror.

Today’s pen: Pelikan M600
Today’s ink: Lamy black

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Posted by Dirck on 25 April, 2019

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 22 April
  • 23 April
  • 24 April
  • 25 April
  • Second draft of “Doting Mother Cradles Her Wayward Child.”
  • Third Draft of “A Duty of Upkeep is Owed to Your Neighbours.”
  • First Draft of “Share My Pain.”
  • Finished, at 2,142 words.
  • Extra euphony installed, goonish misspellings abolished.
  • 10 manuscript pages

A bit of good news came to me on Monday (which was, alas, otherwise a little too true to the its stereotype); “The Glamour of Battle” is being held for final editorial consideration after passing three rounds of reading. This is not acceptance, and acceptance may not come, but it’s still encouraging.

Actually, I also got a very pleasant item of feedback from someone who had read another story, sent for a competition some time ago, and thought that they should send along a few under-the-counter words of encouragement. Very kind, entirely unlooked for, and deeply appreciated. I may persist in this writing nonsense if treated thus.

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Posted by Dirck on 18 April, 2019

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 15 April
  • 16 April
  • 17 April
  • 18 April
  • A sudden and possibly hasty reaction to the day’s events
  • Third draft of “Curse of the Dragon”
  • Second draft of “Doting Mother Cradles Her Wayward Child”
  • See previous entry.
  • Finished, at 5,755 words.
  • 1,629 typed words.

I completely fumbled last weekend’s potential for writing, and thus did not manage the Monday deadline for “Curse of the Dragon.” Not a big deal; it won’t go moldy waiting for the next submission window, and I’ll be able to give it the proper post-completion examinations it wouldn’t have gotten had I pushed it through.

This is not quite as silver-lining flavoured as the news of how intact Notre Dame has remained, but it affects me more directly.

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We Cannot Have Nice Things

Posted by Dirck on 15 April, 2019

All things end. We know this. Any notion of permanence which we attach to anything at all is an illusion induced by our brief window of perception. The stars themselves cannot last.

We should not be surprised, then, when something built by humans meets a terminal fate.

About an hour before I started writing this, news of a plume of smoke drifting across Paris from the roof of Notre Dame cathedral penetrated my part of the world. And despite all having these little cushioning ideas to hand, I’m at the very edge of tears. One who is not a follower of that faith, one who has never seen the edifice in person, choking on emotion.

Because it was the work of generations. Because it is possible, just barely, to imagine the communal effort over centuries that went into the construction, the combination of individual hopes and aspirations that shifted and shaped so much wood and stone. I mentioned in a previous entry here how a letter is like holding hands at one remove with the writer, however long ago the writing happened; these great old buildings have the same power to connect a modern visitor to people long gone. Not only the builders, either. Thresholds and staircases are reshaped by generations of passers-by, so that going there now allows one to quite literally stand in their footsteps, and microscopically leave new marks, so that those who will come after are brought into the chain of inclusion.

All of that, gone in hours.

Choking upon emotion, because it is a piece of art, a huge multimedia presentation of carved stone and stained glass, with an occasional auditory element when the bells are rung. Perhaps it isn’t to all tastes, but what art can be? When some item of art is lost, the balance between Beauty and Ugly is dragged into a worse place. When that item is a large, durable one, can the loss be felt as other than a blow?

Drifting pale smoke, grey ash, heat-shattered fragments of rock. Whither beauty then, except perhaps when an accident of light from a setting sun produces a brief gilding?

To avoid ending on that grim note, let me offer some possible solace. To start with, let’s look the problem in the face.

Image result for notre dame

This is pretty damn serious, and this is well before it got worse.

All things come to an end. We accept that this structure will never be the same. But… this is not the first cathedral to suffer a massive fire. A little over a century ago, Reims cathedral also had a huge conflagration, and (despite later propaganda) just as accidental:

Image result for reims cathedral

We may expect Notre Dame to look just like this, in a couple of weeks.

And yet, if one visits that city today, one finds…

Facade, looking northeast

Oh. There it stands.

That’s looking pretty good, although despite re-opening in 1938 (only 24 years after the fire, and 19 years after the start of rebuilding) the work has never actually been declared finished. That’s fine, though. That’s just fine. Cathedrals are not quick. They should be generational. Köln cathedral was started in 1248 and wasn’t considered built until 1880, after all, and they’re still putting it right after some knocks it took in the Second World War.

Let’s have some hope, then. Perhaps in a mere generation, when many of us are still here to see it, Notre Dame will be largely restored. Not the same as it was, of course, but with enough of the old fabric to maintain the connection across hundreds of years, and a whole new layer of craftsmen’s marks upon it to give far distant humanity a strong sense of connection to our time.

We cannot have nice things. Not forever. But we can keep striving for them, and revel in them while they last.

Today’s pen (may be in use a hundred years from now, unless I sit on it): Pelikan M600
Today’s ink (not so pretty, but depleting all the same): Lamy black

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Posted by Dirck on 11 April, 2019

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 8 April
  • 9 April
  • 10 April
  • 11 April
  • Third draft of “Curse of the Dragon”
  • 3409 typed words (and boy, are my arms tired).

I… might… make that Monday deadline for this story. Last week’s worries about sufficiency of editing remain strong, though.

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