What's up at Ravens March.

Vintage pens-Handmade books-Silly statements

Posts Tagged ‘Pilot’

Posted by Dirck on 26 March, 2020

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 16 March
  • 17 March
  • 18 March
  • 19 March
  • First draft of “In Loco Parentis”.
  • Adventures in shopping for necessities during a lockdown.
  • A letter I’ve been shamefully neglecting.†
  • 2 manuscript pages
  • No spare probe covers for our Braun aural thermometer, alas.
  • Ready to mail.

 

† The letter to which I respond arrived just before Christmas. I plead “really a lot of powerful distractions”.

‡ The last time I used this pen (not quite two years ago, I discover with alarm), I also used brown ink. The only rationale for this association I can think of is that brown was big in the ’70s.

I am, by the way, still at work. The Regular Job turns out to count as “essential services”, and I’m apparently essential to it, so I’ll be the last one out before management is made to lock the doors. Let’s all hope it doesn’t come to that.

 

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Hygienic Entertainment

Posted by Dirck on 20 March, 2020

I understand a lot of people are home from work and rampaging through their viewing queues. It turns out that I’m quasi-essential to The Regular Job, so here I am, offering a couple of films, because you don’t want to get all the way through the third season of Castlevania already, do you? Pace yourself!

The first is more of a PSA, once again urging us all to wash our hands properly. The second is just fun.

If you’re scraping around for more entertainment and have a good tolerance for bonkers nonsense, you might want to devote a few hours to Beastars.

Today’s pen: Pilot Short
Today’s ink: Herbin Violet Penseé

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Posted by Dirck on 19 March, 2020

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 16 March
  • 17 March
  • 18 March
  • 19 March
  • First draft of “Morgue Attendance”.
  • Fidgeting about coronavirus, and an attempt to find some yogurt in the picked-over grocery store.
  • First draft of “THINGY”
  • 1 manuscript page, and then some doubts about direction creep in…
  • A stunning success on both fronts; thanks to St. Patrick for the latter!
  • 8 manuscript pages

 

 

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Posted by Dirck on 12 March, 2020

Before the status report, a status report, because one of the regular readers here expressed appreciation at my tiny contribution to the effort to de-stigmatize mental illness. There is a substantial amount of stress at The Regular Job right now. There was not quite so much about a month ago, but apparently it was enough to move one of my colleagues to reach over her head, grab the yellow and black striped handles, and launch herself into early retirement.

This is what everyone’s desk chair looks like, right?

She had been here quite a while, and thus had accreted a lot of small duties with obscure processes, known to her more as muscle-memory rituals than as steps in a logical sequence. It’s fallen to me and one other co-worker to take over doing what she did, which involves a certain amount of archaeology, paleography, and cautiously touching a quivering fingertip to the huge black monolith in the break room.

Stressful.

And yesterday, as I was finally finished the work of the previous day, it struck me that six months ago, this turn of events would have destroyed me. Every bit of the shattering sensibility in the concept nervous breakdown would have come to me. Absolutely no doubt. But as it stands… well, no one likes extra work, but there’s no attendant dread to the current load.

I can’t say whether this is down to coping strategies from counselling, Magic Brain Pills, or whatever went wrong in my head last year correcting itself as mysteriously as it blew its breakers. It’s probably a combination of the first two, with a possibility of the third providing extra flotation. I’m strangely unwilling to experiment by discontinuing use of either cognitive tools or modern chemistry. I’d rather live with this small uncertainty than try to live with a return of the full-size Black Dog.

I occasionally hear it sniffing around, just the other side of the metaphorical tree line.

But enough introspection. Let’s have a look at what the week’s self-imposed labours produced:

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 9 March
  • 10 March
  • 11 March
  • 12 March
  • Third (but really second, sort of) draft of “Filter Feeder”.
  • Revision of “The Mermaid’s Husband”.
  • First draft of “Morgue Attendance”.
  • Rubbed with a towel, weighted at 2402 words, and sent to the publication it was meant for.
  • Dropped about a page of unwanted weight, and also sent to that same anthology.†
  • 5 manuscript pages

 

†At the risk of uttering a spoiler against my own work, “The Mermaid’s Husband” contains more direct Lovecraft reference than “Filter Feeder”, since it’s crammed with his blasphemous fish-frogs. Seeing that the Lovecraftian anthology smiled upon multiple submissions, why wouldn’t I try to find a home for one of my slime-dripping darlings?

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Brave, Clever, Capable

Posted by Dirck on 28 February, 2020

Three words one wished applied to more elected officials in this increasingly bizarre reality we share, yes?

I want to share a vintage film today. There’s a brave, clever, and remarkably capable character in it. I also found a thread of horror in it as I watched. I’ll reveal it below, so see if anyone else felt it.

Before I make the promised revelation, I’m going to deflate some movie magic, although possibly by replacing it with a different sort. The driving portions of the return home were accomplished not by remote control (none of that in 1908), but by the director and father of the child crouching on the floor of the car and working the controls.

No, the dog was not really driving.

But… HOW DID AN ADULT HUMAN FIT DOWN THERE?

That question leads into the horror that passed over me while watching this. Consider the shape of that car. Unenclosed. A mere upholstered bucket. In 1908, you would spend several minutes explaining the concept of “seat belt” even to an aviator. And yet… there’s a very small child propped into the seat, being driven hither and yon, a mere high-spirited lurch away from the pavement.

I don’t know about you, but I need to lie down and collect myself.

Today’s pen: Pilot Metropolitan
Today’s nearly-appropriate ink: Montblanc Racing Green

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Posted by Dirck on 20 February, 2020

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 17 February
  • 18 February
  • 19 February
  • 20 February
  • A leisurely non-working Monday
  • Second draft of “Second Impression”.
  • Some laundry.
  • 1423 typed words, and SOOOO close to done it hurts.

 

 

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Posted by Dirck on 13 February, 2020

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 10 February
  • 11 February
  • 12 February
  • 13 February
  • Second draft of “Second Impression”.
  • 1887 typed words.

 

 

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Posted by Dirck on 6 February, 2020

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 3 February
  • 4 February
  • 5 February
  • 6 February
  • First draft of “Second Impression”.
  • 15 manuscript pages.

 

 

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Never Give Up

Posted by Dirck on 31 January, 2020

This is not a video thrown at me by our Algorithmic Masters, but a chap that I watch regularly. He’s entertaining (if slightly Navy in his vocabulary now and then). It’s not the sort of thing he usually does, either, but I found it was an interesting and useful contemplation in the area of acquiring skills.

There’s also just some minutiae of painting a gaming figure which might not be entirely gripping for all, but that’s life. Seriously, though, “I am not good at X” is a statement which in most cases can have “yet” appended to it. My own handwriting is substantially better than it was when I started keeping this screed, through no more than some applied and conscious effort. We’re in a great time for learning how to do stuff. Follow, within reason, your joy.

Today’s pen: Pilot Metropolitan
Today’s ink: Montblanc Racing Green

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Posted by Dirck on 16 January, 2020

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 13 January
  • 14 January
  • 15 January
  • 16 January
  • First draft of “Morgue Attendance” (which is likely a working title).
  • First draft of “Song of the Pen”.
  • 9 manuscript pages. †
  • 7 manuscript pages.

†  I find with “Morgue Attendance” that I begin to run into a problem in the why is this happening? department. I can usually dispel that with a cry of Because CREEPY! and carry on, but the specific shape of the story won’t allow that kind of easy evasion. So, back on the shelf it goes until something sensible ferments.

‡  Two black inks in the same rotation?! I had meant to fill the Parker with something else last Friday, and discovered there was a mere syrupy drop left in the bottle. Panic took over, as I had less then five minutes to get on my way to work.

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