I found two absolutely fabulous websites for fountain pen lovers today http://www.fountainpenhospital.com/ and www.pentrace.com.
And my line of thought follows so.
In this cyber-age where everybody imaginable has a blog as long as they fancy writing, where does it leave the pen and paper kind of writing?
Call me a hapless romantic and sentimental fool, falling for antique stuff.. but seriously, how can you compare the feel of a pen in your hand and a keyboard beneath your fingertips??
The feel of your fingers entwining lovingly around a slender flute, your hand gliding smoothly across the paper, like an eagle in the sky, words forming easily enough, creating the distinct feature called your handwriting.
Think of that and then think of the relentless tapping of your fingertips on indistinct keys, the series of indiscriminate keyboards you handle, where's the personal touch?? Ok, you may type really fast at whatever speed, but really... is there anything else to it? The unintended typos, the faster-than-you-can-think typing... it's easy for the wholeness of your thoughts to get lost in the translation between mind to type.
Think of a fountain pen again, now. It's not just something you write with. It's the comfort of your grip, the uniqueness of your hand, the slow ease at which you write... to quote someone " A fountain pen lets you write slowly, to pause and choose carefully between your thoughts before you pen them down for posterity, before you run away with them." It was a comparision between fountain pens and ball pens actually, but how beautifully it describes the wonder of writing by hand.
A fountain pen is a measure of your personal equation with it, the amount of beauty you can or cannot coax it to create, it's a measure of your character on paper, it's a measure of you.
A piece of written paper gives a more wholesome picture of things than the screen you can stare at. The paper shows the unevenness of the writing, margins, the uniqueness of punctuation marks, the little blots and flourishes that add character to the writing.
What is a screen which has, at best, a selection of fonts and colours to choose from, tools to beautify the page, and yet, leave it monotonous with it's evenness. Beyond the words, what is there to indicate, to tell a story? What is an email sent across cyberspace compared to a letter written on scented paper with pretty borders, decorated with the hand you so cherish and admire, conveying news, emotions and more with its complexity of elements, a thing of art, a possession to treasure, to take out and read again, at leisure, to recount things as you do, evoking memories almost as though the writer were by you, narrating it themselves.
Those who are contrary minded will cite the convenience of speed and ease of typing, and the cumbersome task of refilling a pen, not to mention the time it takes to write... is it really convenience though??
Can a photograph compare to a memory? Can a picture indicate anything beyond the subjects it groups, their colour, expression and age? Can it provide a complete a fulfilling experience like a memory which encompasses not just the visual, but also the sounds that you heard then, the fragrance that lingered in the air, the talk that went on, the feelings felt, the flow of Life in that single moment??
Give me a fountain pen anyday. Give me the choice to create at least my signature. Give me the power to capture at least a little of the vast expanse of a life time in an eternal way, to be read by many, to be wondered at, to be cherished, to be the celebration of what glorious moments it narrates.
