JohnnySwims

Dear Tom,      I don’t think that I can deal with the monotony that I create anymore. Like clockwork a new alarm is set, and each successive high-pitched buzz in the morning is indistinguishable from the gavel that signifies a continuation of my labor. The grip of oppression is asphyxiating, in the hands of a tyranny my existence is spent in vain attempts to create a higher essence. My torture is unrelenting and unpredictable, futile preparations for the future seems to leave me devastatingly unprepared in moments I need them most. The cold that accompanies my winters is bitter and numbing, and I feel the juices of creativity contract inside of me. The apparatuses that lay out my creation seem unaligned with the product I was tasked to produce. Thoughts appear underfoot, meaning unclear and forming fractals upon an otherwise empty slate for expression. My current ink, and my most coveted ink      This perhaps is a bit more foreign to you, a quintessentially...

     My sister carries that journal with her everywhere, and frankly… I don’t understand the habit. I think it’s funny to watch her as she moves about her life and scribble furiously in the journal when she has downtime. She writes about (what I assume to be) her life like a dementia patient desperately clinging onto the last bit of continuity left in their life. She doesn’t share it with anyone — she nearly killed me the last time I touched it — and doesn’t post about it online, either. It truly is a personal hobby for her. I mean seriously, why would anyone ever journal...      To me, it’s a misallocation of her time and resources that could be spent on more intellectual pursuits, scrolling on TikTok or shopping online are good examples. What could be so enrapturing about a journal (a diary for the more cynical) that anybody would carry it around like an extension of their body? There is no world found inside the binding of that journal, it’s simply an ec...

In the short story Memento Mori , Earl (the main character) recalls elementary school when his “day planner was the back of [his] hand”. Ever since his development of “backwards amnesia”, he’s come to the unfortunate belief that “The best way to [live] is with a list”. The way I see it, the only thing that’s working backwards here is Earl pedantic philosophizing about life and organization, not his memory. Although that’s derived from my zealous need to justify an inordinately well vetted and sized Techo Kaigi , that is my planner/journal line-up.   Stemming from a slight (?) obsession with the weekly layouts , I have a multi-national lineup of flagship models that break my time into bite-size chunks for me to fill and exercise discretion over. In a way, I suppose that makes me more similar to Earl than it does alienate me from him. Where a numbered checklist suffices for his 10-minutes explorations, my elaborate Kaigi ward my amnesia to only strike weekly. His so affectionately ...

     My most opulent, and possibly most frivolous, stationery purchase to date has to be my Rotring 600 . An encapsulation of German precision and an obsession with perfection, this drafting pencil was my stationary everything when I started.        Made with a solid brass barrel, the knurled steel grip sits comfortably in my hand. The heft of the Rotring provided stability to my writing - a consequence of its integrated counterweights. Every time, a satisfying “click” would sound as it pushed graphite through the needlepoint to be layered onto the paper under my hand. To click the “Buy Now” button on Amazon, I needed a sizable sum of $20, almost 10x a passable replacement for a mechanical writing utensil. But passable wasn’t Rotring, designed perfectly for professionals and engineers alike. 

If I could uninvent any one thing in the world, I would uninvent the pen. An immediate change is that my wallet would find itself much fuller, an obsession with pens destroyed in an instant. The small fortune I have squandered in pursuit of the best pen would be restored to me and perhaps invested in more worthy endeavors. My account on JetPens and Bungu would be deleted , along with half of their website and revenue . Astronauts would have to exclusively use pencils in space, unable to enjoy the luxury of a smooth writing experience free of imperfections. This fails to encompass the mountains of work and signatures lost in an instant. Although, p erhaps the greatest thing that would unravel as a result is the unnatural human need for perfection.   My current "go-to" writing pen. Although, I put the ink in the body of a G-2 as the EnerGel is just to flimsy. (Note: the picture above is not mine)                Pens are an unyi...

    I was browsing the web recently, when I came across an article that put not having enough retirement funds as one of the biggest fears/concerns that Americans had on their mind. A sentiment we see carry down to the saving and work habits of most Americans. Americans work about 1,750 hours a year. A sizable increase from our neighbors across the pond, with countries like Germany only averages around 1,350 hours a week. All in an effort to raise their own standard of living and to stave off the depletion of their savings accounts and retirement funds.  Despite all the Woolf says about the inevitably of death and the futility of our effort, Americans continue to pour their lifeblood into preparing for their eventual exit of the labor force. William dealing with getting sick all the time    Despite the raging debate over the role of government assistance, America does lay out some provisions for the seniors in America. Various accounts, such as 401(k), Roth...