March 7th, 2004


It's amazing the stuff you find in bookstores when you have a gift card and they have no selection.

Today (Fine, yesterday, but since I haven't slept yet it's still technically today) I finally went out and bought one of those incredibly odd items where you have no real use for it but nonetheless have wanted one for ages: a dip pen and a little bottle of French blue ink. It's amazing the weird feeling of power and refinement a simple metal cylinder with a sharpened end that isn't a crossbow bolt can give you. I've been scrawling random sentences all evening, and I think I've got the hang of it.

However, I'm also now saddled with a tremendous burden. I feel as though I will have somehow failed in my responsibilities as a dip pen owner if I don't use it to sign my first publication contract or write a love letter to my sweet William, who, fearing that he has nothing to offer me should we be married now, is seeking his fortune by making the perilous voyage overseas to the 1700s.

Maybe I'll do the Sunday crossword with it.