Notes From a Sketchbook
some time ago
I like refilling my fountain pens. It means I am using them. A true joy to make a record of my time here. Like Henry Darger, even if I am forgotten, my worlds exist elsewhere than just in my head. I always stain my fingers black, which i LOVE, because Bean says to me, 'you must be a writer' and I smile and coyly answer 'YES!' with faux indignation as I pretend to be Jo and my heart swells to be a character in the imagination of a woman in the 19th century looking out her window at an orchard. There is a trick to effective pen filling, and I am ashamed to say it took 20 years to learn it: a syringe! I write with Noodlers bulletproof black using a lamy, pilot or schaffer fountain pen.
As I write this, Jellybean is advising me on the best way to purchase a car.
Time is an irrelevant commodity when one lives forever.
Today you lambasted my words and images published on insta, claiming I mislead and depress others. Likely it is just that you fear that you do not understand what and why.
Well neither do i.