Oh, what a liar I am ! I just went into my desk drawer and got out my fountain pen that D. gave me. I had to fill it with ink from the bottle. Purple ink. This thing has a medium nib and writes so bold that I have to make big letters. Handwriting is fascinating stuff to me. And the pen you use has everything to do with how your handwriting looks. The fine nib lets me write with finesse. But is not as reliable as the medium one. But in the grand scheme of things, does it really matter? I suppose to one who writes, it does. These are the tools of our trade, the instruments of the craft. The paper, the pen, the ink, all contribute to the experience and the result of what you write. Process . . .Something that is getting the short end of the stick these days.
Just think how long people have saved their thoughts this way. “I wrote, therefore I was.” Leaving a record of what swirled around in their head. It’s easy to forget subtle musings, especially these days when information flows like a torrent. It’s hard to scoop up a cupful and examine it more closely.
I’ve been thinking about Thoreau these last few days. Even he, way back before technology was firmly in the drivers seat as it is today, found the need to “unplug”. What is it about rushing about that is so hard to resist? What are we all rushing too? Or from ? I suppose we all cannot be contemplatives. Somebody needs to be out there keeping things running. But it’s pretty rough on those of us who think slowly and deeply to find a quiet place to put two thoughts together. If Thoreau had to make a special effort in his age, how much more do we in this one ?
Oh, I must admit that whole world is not given over to the mad scramble. The other day I read that one third of the world’s population has never made a phone call. This gave me pause. How can this be ? It’s hard to imagine such a thing when we are surrounded by electronic gadgets. Even the children’s toys are electronic. You have to look hard to find a child’s toy that doesn’t talk or buzz or whir in some manner or another.
You must excuse me. I’ve been feeding my propensities. I’m reading a series of books about technology and TV and next I will tackle “The Harried Leisure Class” by Staffan Linder written about 1965 ! How much more harried are we in 2003?
(Oh, I hear you groaning. WHY are you reading this stuff ? Aren’t you entrenched enough in your Luddite tendencies? Why do you want to feed them more subversive literature? And look at you hunched over your scribble book with ink stained fingers from filling your fountain pen, when you could be composing this at the keyboard in a more sanitary manner. And just think, now you have to go and type all these purple ramblings into the computer in order to post to the diary. What a waste of effort ! You are NOT using your multi-tasking skills !)
Guilty as charged. Inefficient, stubborn scribbler. Inky Luddite curmudgeon, shuffling papers with blots, wasting time right and left. Send the Techno police, bring ‘em on! I will be moving so slowly, so out of phase with that reality, they won’t be able to see me. Like Neo in the Matrix. Ha ! I will move in both worlds. Scribble and type, scribble and type.
Catch me if you can !