That which flows ceaselessly
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, perhaps the greatest thing that would unravel as a result is the unnatural human need for perfection.
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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 unyieldingly permanent writing utensil. The ink which flows out of the tip of the pen clings desperately to the paper – much like extra weight gained during the holidays. The act of using the pen comes with both the freedom and shackles of a writing experience free of effort. When ink glides out of my 0.7mm Pentel EnerGel, I scare put in any effort and word begin to form on my page. If I continue pressing, word form into thoughts, then finally passages. Yet in the pen’s wake, a carefully curated stream of consciousness has manifested itself in place of original expression. Unable to erase the errant marks of originality, the pen squeezed me into a constant state of vigilance. Humanity's worst decision was to covet an unnaturally effortless perfection, they coveted the pen.
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