Author Archives: DELively

Some Things are Classic, Some Things are Just Old, Some Old Things Are Classic

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I went to Tokyo this afternoon to get nib work on two of my new pens. I ended up leaving with a pen that’s older than I am.

Although I like my Namisu Nexus Minimal fountain pens, both pens had nib issues. The Titanium nib was off center and the tines were misaligned. The steel nib was dry. I could have realigned the tines myself, but I had part of the day off and it was a good chance to get out of Dodge for a while.

I decided to go to EuroBox (link in Japanese) which is a small vintage pen shop right at the end of the Ginza shopping district in downtown Tokyo. It is in one of the old creepy buildings I like a lot. The stair case to the 4th floor (3rd floor UK) is hard to find and it’s narrow, low and creepy. If you go up the main staircase, you won’t find EuroBox, just a dark hallway with lots of suspicious empty rooms. EuroBox, when you find it, is surrounded by peeled paint and exposed electrical boxes.

The door to Euro-Box. Come visit us, Dwayne. Come visit us forever and ever and ever...

The door to EuroBox. Come visit us, Dwayne. Come visit us forever and ever and ever…

When I arrived, the proprietor, Eizo Fujii was helping a customer. This gave me time to peruse the displays of vintage pens. (I didn’t take any pictures as there’s a sign asking you not to. Because he was busy, i didn’t get a chance to ask him for permission. You’ll just have to visit yourself.)

As I was looking, he returned a tray of pens to the display and I noticed they were vintage Pilot Capless pens. My ears went up and I took a look at a black one expecting the price to be absurd. When it wasn’t–it’s actually cheaper than a new Pilot Vanishing Point–I started the pen buyer’s rationalization process: I expected that to be a lot more expensive than that therefore, at that price, that’s like getting a discount on it. That’s totally a bargain! I’ll take that but only because I’m saving money on that.

(Note: by that logic, almost anything, even a private jet with gold toilet fixtures, can be considered a bargain.)

When it was my turn, Mr. Fujii, who speaks very good English, fixed my Nexus pens as I watched. After he finished I asked to try to the Pilot Capless C200SW (manufactured August 1964 I believe). Unfortunately, I liked it enough I decided to buy it.

I then had to go down to Ito-Ya, one of the best stationers in Japan, to get a converter that fit the pen. (The cartridges it takes are no longer made.) After I got the pen home I had to soak it to clean out quite a bit of gunk, but now it works fine.

The initial impressions are good: It is slender but unlike other Capless pens, the clip helps you rather than gets in your way. I suspect lefties would have little trouble using this pen, which is not always true of vanishing point pens. It’s also a touch longer than my similar Vanishing Points.

The 1964 Capless compared with my mid-90's Vanishing Point.

The 1964 Capless compared with my mid-90’s Vanishing Point.

The nock mechanism is odd. You have to push it half way to extend the nib, then push it the rest of the way to release it. If you just push it all the way it doesn’t stay open and Mr. Fujii looks at you in a sad way as if you are an idiot (well, maybe that’s just me.) It has a Fine nib which I usually don’t like but Mr. Fujii smoothed it perfectly.

The pen with the nib extended and a brief writing sample.

The pen with the nib extended and a brief writing sample explaining some of the pen’s details.

The nib section, pre-cleaning. I like the odd facets on the nib.

The nib section, pre-cleaning. I like the odd facets on the nib.

The underside of the nib. You can see the surprisingly cool clear feed.

The underside of the nib. You can see the surprisingly cool clear feed.

I’ll put it in my pen rotation and do a long term review another day. Until then, there was a pink one She Who Must Be Obeyed might like. And a red and gold one other people might like. At that price they are real bargains…

 

 

Another Fine Mess was Made

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In my daily log today, the weather doodle looks like the sun is barfing up a fur ball of flames. This is absurd, of course, because it’s not yet August when the sun actually does barf up flames all over Japan.

Instead the mess was made by a pen burping.

One of the charms/curses of owning and regularly using fountain pens, especially if you use bottled ink,  is that you will, no matter how careful you are, get ink on your fingers eventually. Sometimes, even if you’ve been careful, the pen takes it upon itself to make a mess.

Today as I was adding rays to my sun doodle, my Noodler’s Konrad fountain pen suddenly decided to burp up Noodler’s Apache Sunset ink in a heavy glob that sent me looking for tissue. As I dabbed the mess, ink soaked through the tissue and got my fingers messy and smeared on the log. (I didn’t think to take pictures but, in my defense, my hands were messy.)

Today the sun barf's flame on to the clouds.

Today the sun barf’s flame on to the clouds. That ink has a great color, though.

The effects of the burp on yesterday. Still a great color.

The effects of the burp on yesterday. Looks good with the Noodler’s Midway Blue and Diamine Sherwood Green.

This is caused because the pen was getting low on ink. When pens like this get low complicated laws of physics (complete with complicated math and power point presentations) suddenly activate and remind the user, via a gusher, to refill the reservoir. The Noodler’s pens are cheap pens designed to be tinkered with by the user (before use you are expected to clean the pen, adjust the nib and, in my case, take it apart and remove a part to make it work better, but more on that in another post). Because the celluloid is thin, it make the burping worse. (None of my other piston fillers burp but they are better made.)

Making the mess worse was the flex nib. Flex nibs are designed for calligraphy (the split between the tines is longer) and they let a lot of ink flow. When one burps, you end up with globs on the paper.

I cleaned up the mess and refilled the pen, which required getting more ink on my fingers. Once again I neglected to take pictures.

Maybe next time. And I’m pretty sure there will be a next time.

Low Pressure Big Headache

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Typhoon Noul (aka Typhoon #6) is coming and it’s giving me a headache.

We’ve been having relatively cool weather recently, including a couple days that felt like Awesome rather than the usual Pleasant weather. This means the air was dry rather than increasingly muggy. It also means that payback is coming.

The last couple days have been cool but you could feel the humidity increasing. Only wind kept it from counting as Pleasant weather.

Today, though, we passed through Awesome to Pleasant to the Season in Which it Rains. Because of this, air pressure and gray skies have been playing hell with students and teachers alike. Also the wind has kicked up dust and pollen. We’ve been watching our youngest closely as the low pressure from typhoons has been known to trigger bouts of asthma. So far so good, but I was the one who got hit.

On the way back from work, about a 100 yards or so from the station I started to get my migraine spot. I swore a little and picked up my pace. Once I got home I downed a couple aspirin and a cup of coffee because, as fate would have it, She Who Must Be Obeyed had just made a fresh pot of coffee. (Technically, as SWMBO reminded me, that was for her not for me but in my defense, it was medicinal.)

Luckily, my ghetto treatment worked and the migraine was mild. I’ll go to bed early and, luckily, I get to sleep in tomorrow as the day after a migraine, even a mild one, leaves me feeling as if I have a mild hangover.

The other problem is that typhoons usually have to unusual effects. First they sweep the sky clean and leave it an impressive clear blue. Second, they drop off heat and humidity.

It’s enough to give a person a headache.

One Slowly Fading Slowly

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I have a student who’s bored with my class. In his defense, he’s the only student in the class.

I written before about how I’m apparently too good at scaring students away from high school third year classes and how I ended up with only one student in my class and what problems that was going to cause.

Unfortunately, the predicted problems have already come true and it’s only the fourth class. It doesn’t help that the student isn’t doing his homework. Basically, the deal I offered was that I would provide material for the first hour and, if there was a writing assignment, the second hour. (Note: the classes meet once a week for two hours.) His job was to bring something to do for the second. It could be a conversation topic or an article, but he had to bring something.

I kept up my part, but he’s been slacking on his. Last week I kept him busy most of the second hour and then he wanted to talk about Los Angeles because he wants to move there. (He doesn’t seem to know it’s built on an earthquake fault line and run by morons.) This week he just stared at me as if he was surprised I expected him to do something. I reminded him he was supposed to bring something to do or talk about and he gave me the teenager shrug.

I cut his points 50%. I’ll give him one more chance to do his homework and then I’ll start giving him work to do: Essays about his favorite actors. Essays about his favorite movies. Homework to research different acting schools and write about them. Or my personal favorite: Essays about why it’s more fun to bring things you want to do than write about why you didn’t bring something to do.

I suspect once the class finds its feet and I figure out how to teach it to only one student he’ll be fine. Until then, he’d better have a pen and some paper.

Once More Into the Seat

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I really should be disgusted with myself, but that would take too much energy.

Today was another in a long line of lazy days that occur more often than they should and also tend to occur when the weather is changing. (The weather’s been bouncing between warm, hot and cool the last couple weeks which has stolen energy away from everyone I know.)

The day started off strong with me actually getting up on time despite having gone to bed late. (This entry is being written on three hours sleep plus one 15 minute nap.) I made an omelet with ham, Mozzarella cheese and chopped fresh Japanese mustard spinach. (It was awesome, if I do say so myself.)

After that, I didn’t do much else that was productive. In my defense, I did proofread and rewrite a company brochure as a favor to one of my former karate colleagues. They make equipment for veterinary clinics so I learned a lot about their new animal ICU systems (link in Japanese) while trying to figure out, based on the English that was used, if I’d actually learned anything or simply misunderstood.

I also finished an online course that was interesting but nothing special and did the next module in another online course that I’m afraid will suddenly start seeming like work. (It’s a fiction course; long story.)

That took the better part of the morning and I couldn’t be bothered to do much of anything once that was finished. I played some games, watched an episode of A Touch of Frost, (which is, well, another post) and wrote random bits of stuff but nothing particularly coherent. I then cycled through all that again, leaving out the tv show the second time.

Besides the weather, I also know that June is coming and feel compelled to save my energy for the big push. Well, at least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

There was Neither Justice nor Fairness

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I don’t remember how old I was when I had to do dishes on my birthday. I do, however, remember  the blood.

We lived in Hayden, Colorado and we still lived in a trailer in Meadow Village (more on that in another post) and my sister and I were expected to alternate dish washing nights. In this particular year, it turned out that November 16th was my dishes night and November 17th was my sister’s night.

Now, to my teenaged logic, having my sister’s dishes day fall on my birthday offered me no bonus whatsoever (not having to do dishes on my birthday was nothing special if I wasn’t scheduled to do dishes on my birthday). It was no different than her having to do dishes on Tuesday after I did them on Monday. This, again to my teenager logic, hardly seemed fair. I therefore failed to do dishes on the 16th fully expecting to not have to do them on my birthday.

However, there is no justice in the world.

Rather than be granted clemency and a “Happy Birthday, Son” I was told I had to do dishes on my birthday because I hadn’t done them the night before. This is roughly the equivalent of having someone spit on the Baby Jesus at Christmas (not really, but I was a teenager so this logic made sense).

As a counter, I offered the logical argument of “Yeah, but it’s my birthday.” and was countered with “Yeah, how ’bout that” and then did dishes.

Karma then ensued. Although I’m not sure who’s karma it was.

I was cleaning a McDonald’s (or maybe a Pepsi’s) Collector’s glass (I vaguely remember it being Superman). As I washed the inside, the glass broke apart and I cut my hand.

My mom offered parental logic along the lines of “If you bleed to death, you’re not getting any birthday cake” and then offered me first aid.

To this day I feel justice was not served. The physical scars healed eventually though.

 

Magic Blue and Magic Gray

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I have a pair of magic pencils. At least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

This started a few years back when I called for volunteers to do a classroom assignment and was met by crickets and groups of boys who averted their eyes in the hope it would make them invisible. I held up my pencil and said that that if there were no volunteers I’d let the magic blue pencil decide. I dropped it on my class roll sheet and announced the name of the person the magic blue pencil had chosen.

That would have been all of it except, a couple weeks later, I once again called for volunteers and my students instead requested that the magic blue pencil decide. After that, the transparent blue Pilot S3 mechanical pencil (similar to this black one) became a regular character in my class. The magic blue pencil always chose the person who secretly wanted to go next. When students protested I told them that the magic blue pencil was never wrong.

On a couple occasions I pretended to receive phone calls via the magic blue pencil. The phone call explained the students were about to do a large project. I pretended to protest and when students protested the assigment, I said they should blame the magic blue pencil. I had tried to defend them.

The Pilot S3 (top) and the UNI Kurutoga Roulette. That Kurutoga looks scary.

The Pilot S3 (top) and the UNI Kurutoga Roulette. That Kurutoga looks scary.

However, over time, the magic blue pencil got replace by a UNI Kurutoga Roulette in Gun Metal gray. The magic gray pencil looks scarier and more weapon like but is no less wise than the magic blue pencil. It always chooses the person who was supposed to go next. It’s also partly made of metal and makes a satisfying thump when it hits the roll sheet.

I recently, through a sale, acquired a Karas Kustom’s Bolt. It’s made of brass and feels heavy enough to be a weapon. It may, someday, replace the magic gray pencil.

Bolt-1

Until then, I’ll keep relying on the wisdom of the magic gray pencil. (Something like that.)

This is the Day You Knew Was Coming With a Vengeance

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In every class there’s a moment where your students find out you’re serious. In the case of first year high school students at the school where I work, after mocking any attempts to discipline or threats to fail them, they suddenly discover they are not in junior high school anymore.

Today was that day in two of my classes.

In all fairness, the classes went well right up until the moment they didn’t. When they didn’t go well the students were supposed to be rewriting and memorizing a conversation from the book. Instead, most of them chatted. In the first class when I asked for volunteers no one raised their hands so I chose a pair. One partner didn’t know what page they were on and the other hadn’t changed the conversation. This continued through a few more pairs, with one doing a passable job, until I gave them all a homework assignment. I can tell they didn’t take me seriously so I told them that anyone who hadn’t finished the homework would have to meet me after school or at lunch the day after the homework was due.

That was the first class of the day.

When I got to the last class, I warned them that their fellow students had earned homework and I’d be more than happy to give them homework. One student had failed to bring a textbook or a notebook and assured me his textbook and notebook were in his head. I told him to prove it by tearing out a sheet and giving it to me. (He didn’t, but it would have been really cool if he had.)

Once again, things went well right up until the final project. In the second class, guys were talking to people other than their partners forcing me to invoke Rule 13:

If you are talking to someone other than your partner, that means you are ready and must do your performance right away.

Four pairs ended up violating Rule 13, including the kid with no textbook. Once again, the first pairs weren’t ready and they got defiant and started reading from the text (neither had changed it as they were supposed to). I told them every time they looked at their book they lost a point. They ended up with 1 point out of 10 for the day.

The no textbook guy did badly, then he and his partner surprised me by asking for “revenge” or a chance to go again. They did much better the second time. A pair I chose at random didn’t know which parts they were reading. One of the partners got mad and didn’t understand why I was calling on him. (I told him it wasn’t me, it was the magic brown pencil. Long story.)

After he argued some more, I told him 1) he should go to an easier school or 2) he should save his textbook because he might need it again next year. He made a rude comment and I said I’d be happy to introduce him to the guys held back from previous year. They did badly.

In the end, though, enough did well to save the class and only three pairs got homework.

I can tell the guy who was rude doesn’t think I’ll actually keep him late or that he can actually fail. Poor fella. He doesn’t know me very well yet.

Let’s Go to the Mall, Today

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When I was growing up in Colorado, one of our favorite places to hang out, despite us not having much money, was a mall. Now that I’m older, malls are great places to distract the girls and pretend we actually did something when we didn’t.

Because it’s Golden Week and because She Who Must Be Obeyed worked Monday and Tuesday and because our oldest had club, we didn’t get a chance to go out until today. (I was babysitting our youngest/writing/playing World of Tanks.) Unfortunately, our oldest had her own plans to spend money so we sent her to the big city by herself whilst the rest of us went to the mall. More specifically, we went to a new mall called LaLaPort Fujimi, built just a short drive/train ride away.

The only problem with this was, because it’s Golden Week and because the mall is new, about 12 billion people (plus or minus a few hundred thousand) were going to be there. The mall actually has “heavy traffic expected” warnings on its website and the signs were not good.

We decided to take the train and then take a bus but as soon as we got to our station, there were people standing around and signs saying “Hell if we know when the next train leaves” at the front of the station after an apparent suicide somewhere down the tracks. Luckily we only had to wait 20 minutes and also luckily, the trains weren’t that crowded.

After we got to Tsuruse Station, it was such a nice day we decided to walk the 20 minutes to the mall. After we got there, there then ensued the “where should we eat/hell if I know because I’ve never been here before” discussion that usually occurs around lunch time when we’re out. (We ended up at J.S. Pancake Cafe, which turned out to be an excellent choice.)

Oddly, we ended up not buying anything other than lunch and a few things our youngest paid for with her allowance. She had fun but She Who Must Be Obeyed and I were underwhelmed. The LaLaPorts are a chain of malls around the Tokyo metro area and all the ones I’ve been to suffer from a certain sameness. They all have circular layouts designed to improve traffic flow and they all are well arranged through a complex scientific process involving a committee. (Not a joke, the committee was featured on local news/native advertising last week.)

The also have all the same stores.

We don’t have plans to go back, although it’s not that far away, even if we walk. There’s just nothing special about it.

Note: Fans of “How I Met Your Mother” will recognize the title of this post as a lyric from Canadian pop-tart Robin Sparkles epic “Let’s Go to the Mall” (Which manages to make fun of both Tiffany and Debbie Gibson.)

 

 

MY DIY Notebooks–Long Term Review

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It seemed to be a good idea at the time. And it was. Until it wasn’t.

A decade ago or so the school where I work asked us to hand out surveys to our students assessing our and their performance in class. (Many marked low scores without realizing they were marking themselves low.) Part of my game was to give out the survey at test passback classes and then, once I was safe, pass back the exams.

Unfortunately, not only did we get the results of the surveys, we also got all the surveys back to go through if we wanted. I had about 280 students or so and we did the surveys twice a year. This meant we had stacks of paper. Well, at least it meant I did. I have generally saved old worksheets as scratch paper in order to use the backsides before I throw them out. With the surveys, I had a stack of paper that got bigger twice a year.

I then downloaded a freeware program that let me make lines and set about making my own writing tablets. I printed the surveys and bunches of random worksheets I still hand on my bubblejet printer. (Keep in mind, given the price of printer ink, it would have been cheaper to pour Dom Perignon champagne on the floor.) I bound the pages with staples, covered the staples in black gaffer’s tape and, in a few cases, used an Exacto knife to create ghetto perforations to make pages easier to tear out.

The original stack of 50.

The original stack of 50.

I ended up with 50 tablets and set about using them to write novels. Each tablet had 65 pages and about 35 lines or so from top to bottom. With my handwriting it worked out to about 11,000 words per tablet and I used several of them for novels one and two.

There were, however, several problems.:

Not only could I see my shame (any poor surveys) so could anyone else who saw the tablet. Some pages had heavy ghosting from being printed with bubblejet printers. This made them hard to use.

Ghosting and, if you look real closely, you can see the results.

Ghosting and, if you look real closely, you can see the results.

My handwriting is terrible and 65 pages of my handwriting is madness. Before the school stopped asking us to do surveys, I acquired more paper, and therefore more tablets before I could finish the ones I had. The longer the tablets sat, the more they turned brown and the more the staples rusted.

Also, not only was there the ink expense, but printing them was frequently a pain in the ass that took more time than taking the train to Tokyo to buy expensive notebooks would have. Because I was using different types of paper, I couldn’t just start printing and walk away. I had to be there to undo jams and sort printed sheets from those that got fed through in clumps.

Lately I’ve been moving away from those tablets toward higher quality, more fountain pen friendly paper. I threw away a stack that had begun to turn brown and mildew. I also started tossing spare handouts in the recycle box rather than my desk. I still have a stack of tablets and several others I bound but never printed. I’ll use them to write morning pages, or to sketch out rough drafts of school assignments, but I’ll never print anymore.

A more modern stack. Now side-bound but still with staples and gaffer's tape.

A more modern stack. Now side-bound but still with staples and gaffer’s tape.

Note: The first two pictures above were first published in an article for Notebookism.