Category Archives: Pens

Variety Days in the Variety Room

I cheated, but it was worth a try. It worked reasonably well but it was still cheating.

Today was a day for random tasks as it turned out that our oldest had school (normal for some schools) and that She Who Must Be Obeyed was going to an open house at the school. That meant I was watching our youngest.

Because there was no way to make other plans I did a few things I’d been putting off. First, I finished cleaning pens and chose a couple that will be put up for sale. After the cleaning, of course, comes the reinking and that led to some rethinking and I thought about putting a couple more up for sale. Of course, I’ll have to clean them first, which adds complications. (In a future post I’ll talk about the criteria I’m using for keeping or selling.)

That process, of course, took a lot of time. I had to pull the pens apart, rinse them out and soak the nibs and feeds to flush out all the old ink. While the nibs were soaking, I took on a different task: sharpening knives. This is where I cheated.

I recently acquired a diamond sharpening stone and, just as an experiment, a guide for helping the lazy/unskilled keep a knife at a consistent angle for sharpening. I spent some time playing with that and the main problem was it was sharpening the knife at a much different angle than I usually use. This meant I had to spend a lot of time removing a lot of steel before I could actually form the apex and sharpen the knife. This meant I spent a lot longer sharpening the knife than I’d planned.

The guide worked well, but it doesn’t solve the problem of curved edges and a lack of skill. It also probably won’t solve the problem of the way we abuse our knives and manage to dull them rather quickly.

After the cheating, er, sharpening, I managed to get some writing done, but the sense that I’d cheated at sharpening distracted me. Tomorrow I’ll have to freehand sharpen something just to prove I can still do it.

I’ll also think about cleaning and selling those pens.

Thin Bits of Ruination

I bought a pen because I knew I wouldn’t be afraid to ruin it. Today I tried to ruin it.

The rabbit hole that is pen addiction consists of several steps that lead the addict from “Who the hell would ever use a fountain pen” to “why would anyone ever use anything but a handcrafted fountain pen made of gold harvested from asteroids”? (Something like that.)

One of the steps involves taking control of your pens by learning to do basic maintenance on them. This step usually comes after the step where you start using bottled ink and well after you learn what a good pen feels like. At this point you learn to straighten nibs and widen the gap between the tines and maybe even change nibs. You also remove the nib for cleaning.

In my case I’ve been interested in learning some basic nib care and to do so I bought a cheap fountain pen that I’m not afraid to ruin. My plan was to use a few tools I’ve acquired over time to tweak the pen and make it better and then change inks. That said, if it had been perfect I wouldn’t have messed with it, but it was kind of dry and didn’t like working on smooth paper.

I tried soaking it in pen flush but that didn’t work so I finally decided to try some brass sheets I acquired a while ago to clean out the tines and, hopefully, make the ink flow smoothly.

The problem is that poking around on your pen, even a cheap one, with bits of metal is not a natural act. (It’s kind of like a dentist scraping a metal hook around your teeth and gums in the name of “hygiene”: even though you know it’s supposed to be helpful, you’re kind of worried about long term damage because “metal hook”.)

I cleaned and flushed the pen and was surprised to see how easily it cleaned. I then had to poke around at it with the sheet of metal.

Whatever I did, it seems to have worked. The cheap pen is working well. Now I need to know if it was the cleaning or the ink change that made it work.

Culling and Cleaning and Second Thoughts

I never change except in my final decisions, especially when they involve getting rid of stuff.

After limping back home after work, I spent some time cleaning pens as I prepare them to be sold. (Or more accurately: before I attempt to sell them.) The decision to sell these particular pens was reached after several fits of mind-changing.

Both of the pens are reasonably new, but neither of them is that interesting to me anymore. I have other pens I like better and have no particular use for these anymore. They’d already been removed from the every day carry rotation and mostly resided at the office while I used up the ink in them. That said, I still like writing with one of the pens, but I’m getting tired of maintaining it. Also, it’s not the kind of pen you can just toss in a bag and expect it will come out well when you get where you’re going.

The main hindrance to the cleaning is my lack of knowledge of how to properly take them apart and tune them. I’ll wash them, flush them and soak them in pen cleaning solution but I’m not confident enough to yank out the nibs and clean the feeds. Oddly, a higher level of maintenance skill is one rabbit hole I’ve chosen to avoid. I can do basic stuff, and want to learn a few other things, but mostly I’m happy doing the basics.

Now the pens will go into short term storage whilst I clean and ready a few more to be sold. Now that they are desk pens I find I don’t miss carrying them around. That’s a good sign. However, the act of cleaning brings back a lot of memories and gets me worried about sunk costs and if I’ve got my money’s worth out of them and if I’ll get what I think they’re worth.

The problem is, what they are worth changes depending on the memories that get brought back.

The Pain That Lessened the Pain

I had my first ink order cancellation today and that meant I had to refund some money. This was disappointing but it probably saved me a lot of pain.

The order started out larger, then got smaller. I’d even agreed to sell a bottle of hard to find ink I’ve been hoarding (note to self: don’t get “high” on own supply). I’ll probably still sell the bottle, but maybe in a different way than I’d planned.

Then, today after part of the order arrived from the store, I packed the box and made ready to go to the post office. However, sometime during the packing process, as I was moving around the house, I engaged in my periodic tradition of smacking the crap out of the Little Piggy Who Went Whee Whee Whee All The Way Home on the corner of a rolling set of desk drawers. This left me with a cut and an impressive bruise (although a couple ice packs helped remove most of the swelling).

Rather than head to the post office, I decided to have lunch (chili, which is the same thing I had for breakfast; long story) and walk to the post office later.

Unfortunately, and luckily, while I was putting off making the painful walk to the post office, I got an email from my customer requesting a refund because an acquaintance of the client’s will be in Japan soon.. As I hadn’t yet mailed the box, I was able to give the refund and make myself look gracious and save myself some pain in the process.

After that I had to brain storm ideas about the best way to get rid of the growing inventory in order to get some extra cash to rebuild the inventory (oddly, that makes sense to me) and add a couple features/bugs to the business. I also want to move a bunch of it before EMS rates go up at the beginning of June.

However, the important part of that brainstorming was that none of the ideas involve putting on shoes and walking anywhere.

An Awesome Institution For What It Was

The only museum in Tokyo exclusively dedicated to pens closed today and I couldn’t be bothered to travel an hour to see it off. That pretty much tells you all you need to know about Pilot Pen Station.

The outside of Pilot Pen Station. This, and the building, will soon be gone.

The outside of Pilot Pen Station. This, and the building, will soon be gone.

The PPS is one of those places that was more interesting than it was impressive and it wasn’t even that interesting. It had a collection of maki-e pens but, quite frankly, the expensive pen floor of Ito-ya has an equally impressive maki-e collection. There was also a wall that detailed the history of Pilot pens and a few displays on making ink and the various types of nibs Pilot makes. But that was all in Japanese.

There was also table where you could try out the various Iroshizuku inks. But that was just promotion.

The maki-e display on the left looking down toward the Capless display.

The maki-e display on the left looking down toward the Capless display.

My favorite part was the display of the history of Capless pens, which included charts and examples of their internal workings. My only complaint about this was that the two pens were clearly in the wrong places but no one ever bothered to correct the mistake.

The Capless display.

The Capless display. Mistakes were made.

Unfortunately the building itself is scheduled to be demolished and rebuilt and the museum collection will be removed and stored somewhere, probably never to return. That said, although the PPS was worth a visit, but it wasn’t worth a linger or more than one visit.

When I took some guests there last week, the museum was already in shut-down mode. Half the pens on the display of Iroshizuku inks were dry and at least one had a damaged nib. (That said: Pilot, if you need to dispose of those pens, I’ll take them off your hands…)

It had a weird schedule and would shut down on national holidays, meaning it was closed on days new pen customers might actually have a chance to see it.

Being in a business district, it also suffered from not having much around it. I treated it as a way-station between Maruzen and Ginza, especially in summer when the air conditioning was the best part of the museum.

Now it exists only in Google Maps. You can take a virtual tour here. That tour, quite frankly, is about as interesting as actually going there.

(The link to the Google Map comes from Bruno Taut at Chronicas Estilograficas.

 

 

Lots of Walking; Lots of Pens; Lots of Ink

Two amazing things happened today. A wife didn’t kill her husband and I didn’t buy anything.

Well, I didn’t buy much.

As I have become an unofficial tour guide for pen and stationery related locations in Japan, I met a couple today to show them around some good spots in Ginza and then lead them to Shinjuku where the real damage could occur.

I led them to the usual haunts: First we went to the way-too-trendy-looking Ito-Ya G and it’s more interesting cousin Ito-Ya K. After that I led them to Euro Box and its collection of vintage pens. This was where I was in the most danger as the husband was knowledgeable about which pens were worth the money and I started doing the math: don’t feed kids two weeks = one pen. (Something like that.)

At Euro Box, the husband spotted a pen he thought a friend might be interested in. This prompted several texts but then we moved to the Pilot Pen Station (which is apparently in its last days) and found a place for lunch.

Responses to texts arrived and I led them back to Euro Box where the pen was purchased and then back to Ito-Ya K where a converter was purchased. This interested me because the converters for older pens are hard to come by in the USA and the clerk was handing them out like candy. (I’ll have to go back and get more, I guess…)

Then it was off to Shinjuku and Kingdom Note. Since I am the unofficial distributor of Kingdom Note inks in Europe and the USA I was disappointed to see there were no flavors available I didn’t already have. My guest managed to acquire the last bottle of an OMAS ink the store had and we’ve declared that “The last bottle in Japan, if not the world”.

In fact, that may become one of my advertising points: Join Lively Pen Tours, find rare inks (disclaimer: rare ink finds are not guaranteed; in event of rash discontinue use immediately).

I also encouraged him to buy some brands of notebooks I like.

The gentleman’s wife was underwhelmed by all this, but had the patience of Job. This is good because the kind of advertising I don’t need is “See famous pen sites, buy an expensive pen, die at the hands of your spouse.”

 

An Annual Ritual of Much Touching and Pondering

Everything must be touched. It is a curse.

One of the hoarding habits I have is an odd compulsion to touch everything I plan to throw out before I throw it out. I look it over, relive a few memories and then decide if I’m really going to ever use it again. Because of this, it’s impossible for me to simply throw out a box of stuff I haven’t touched in months without going through it first. Luckily, I’ve gotten a lot better at throwing stuff out.

I bring this up because the end of the school year marks an annual ritual I have where I purge the old school related stuff and make room for new school related stuff. I do this at school during exam pass backs and whilst waiting to check final marks.

I also rethink my desk space at home and try to declutter it by rethinking how I use it. (Lately that means “less space for writing” and “more space for gaming”.)

The problem is that rethinking the spaces on the desk requires rethinking the spaces in the file cabinet and “variety drawers” (which is totally not a dirty phrase). Moving stuff off the desk, if it’s not to a trash bin, requires moving other stuff.

At the same time, I’m culling my pen collection to get it down to the stuff I use (including stuff that stays at home) and to implement a one in/one out policy. I’ve already chosen several pens to sell. I also have 15 bottles of ink around that I hope to resell. (I acquire interesting stuff as it becomes available and then hope I can sell it. So far, so good.) Then there’s a number of knives that need to be culled.

Note: in an odd way, reselling the ink has made it easier for me to decide which pens to sell as I’m more comfortable with online buying and selling. I’ve also managed to arrange PayPal accounts to get money from my US account to my Japanese which makes She Who Must Be Obeyed Happy.

Today I cleaned one space–a trick recommended by Leo Babauta in his Sea Change Program–and plan to do another space tomorrow.

The trouble is, I start to think about why I filled that space in the first place and why i want to keep that stuff.

Or I’ll just buy some ink. Or play some games. We’ll see.

Caught Between Two and a Half Pen Shows in One Building

The trouble started in the basement. It got better upstairs. The third floor was just bizarre and kind of sad.

Today I visited the 7th Annual World Fountain Pen Exhibition (link in Japanese) at Maruzen Books in Tokyo. I came away realizing I’d actually visited two and a half pen shows: one that was fun and full of people who seemed to be having fun and one that was dark and full of people who seemed to have sticks up their, um, spines.

Then there was the guy on the third floor. He deserved better.

I’ve mentioned before how part of the problem with Tokyo’s major pen shows is that they are run by the stores hosting them for the benefit of the stores. This makes them rather stodgy. Today they got annoying.

Maruzen, inexplicably, squeezes the pen exhibition onto three different floors rather than clearing space for one. In the basement you have an expanded version of their normal pen section and most of the displays are run by Maruzen staff rather than pen enthusiasts or pen manufacturers. There are pens and there is ink. There is nothing else. Sort of. (More on that in a moment.)

Today the most interesting section in the basement was the surprisingly well stocked OMAS table. It had a warning that OMAS was belly up, and a wide selection of different types of pens all in the “yeah, I could probably flip these for more than that” range.

For this post, I took a couple pictures of the show in general and was immediately accosted from behind–by a woman from the Montblanc booth no less–and told no pictures. I responded with a very mature rant (in English) about how they were contributing to the death of pens and handwriting, but since they weren’t makers–and probably didn’t speak much English–the only impression I made was “jerk foreigner who finally shut up and left”.

A scene from the pen show. The Montblanc lady yelled at me right after this.

A scene from one corner of the pen show. The Montblanc lady (not pictured) yelled at me right after this was taken.

I immediately vowed not to buy anything, but in a dark corner (no joke, by the way) on the way to escalator I ran across a notebook maker I’d never heard of and had to buy a couple notebooks. (I never change, except in my resolve.) (More on those notebooks in a another post.)

Upstairs, on the ground floor, was the second pen show. It featured the pen makers Nakaya, Ohashido and Eboya. Despite being squeezed in near the umbrellas and watches, everyone in that pen show was having fun. Not only was the space brightly lit, it was full of pen enthusiasts and the makers actually invited you to their tables and were happy to show off their wares without the looks of suspicion given by the clerks in the basement.

The man from Eboya at least pretended to have heard of Newton Pens when I compared my Moody to his pens. He also liked my Edison Glenmont and showed he had a pen made from Cumberland ebonite as well.

The Eboya display--with my coral Newton Moody.

The Eboya display–my Newton Moody is fifth from the left. I want everything on the left (plus the red bamboo.)

The man from Ohashido carefully explained the differences in the two pens that interested me. One had a brushed orange urushi that revealed the black ebonite underneath (and looked awesome) the other was solid orange ebonite. (The pictures didn’t turn out.) Nakaya sat at a table of temptation to fix pens and/or replace nibs whether they’d been purchased at Maruzen or not.

Mr. Yoshida of Nakaya smooths a nib on a stone.

Mr. Yoshida of Nakaya smooths a nib on a stone. The pens down left are all samples and all very, VERY dangerous.

Nakaya's pen maintenance tools.

Nakaya’s pen maintenance tools.

On the third floor, I stumbled across a Maki-e demonstration put on by Pilot Pens. The artisan, who’s name was not posted and which I didn’t ask for, had just finished talking about maki-e and demonstrating how to do it. He was all by himself and should have been down on the ground floor where he might have been able to sell some pens or, at minimum, find and audience.

The Pilot Maki-e artist talks to the only other guy there.

The Pilot Maki-e artist talks to the only other guy there. His Maki-e powder is to the right in the black tray.

Next week I’ll go to the Mitsukoshi Fountain Pen Fair. It’s bigger and all in one place, but it’s still mostly run by clerks. I’ll go on Saturday, which is a busier day, and try to get in line for a custom Sailor ink.

Unfortunately, that’s also the day of the Tokyo Folding Knife show so my loyalties and priorities will be split. (See above comments about resolve.)

 

 

Namisu Nexus Minimal Aluminum–Long Term Review

It was awesome, then it was special, now it’s just pretty good. But it might get awesome again.

I’ve mentioned my Namisu Nexus pens before. After I got them, the black anodized aluminum version, and its steel nib, quickly became my favorite.

The Bock steel M nib had been tuned well (or I won the Bock nib lottery) and I found it to be a smooth writer out of the box. It didn’t have the squeak of the titanium version and was fun to write with. I also found that it paired perfectly with Pilot Blue Black ink. It is lighter than the titanium version. With the cap and a full converter it weighs 29 grams/1 ounce. Without the cap it’s 26 grams/.91 ounces. The cap doesn’t post and, because it’s black, it’s easy for me to lose it on my black desk.

Because of the good nib, I started carrying the pen almost everyday. I’ve taken notes with it and written rough drafts of these posts with it. I don’t like the small cap, but I like the shape of the pen. The grooves on the section usually don’t bother me, but if I’ve been writing a long time, I shift my grip around enough that it become uncomfortable some times.

The Namisu Nexus Aluminum version with the cap.

The Namisu Nexus Aluminum version with the cap.

The Namisu Nexus Aluminum uncapped.

The Namisu Nexus Aluminum uncapped.

The black anodizing has held up well despite being carried almost every day and the bead-blasted finish hides fingerprints well.

Unfortunately for this pen, I’ve started liking the Titanium version more and more lately. The titanium M nib leaves a much thicker, wetter line than the steel version which makes it hard to use in small notebooks (it bleeds through a lot) but it feels great on paper.

Because of this, the aluminum version has been sitting at home a lot. (In defense of the pen, it’s not playing well with the ink I’ve filled it with which hasn’t helped.)

Also, the pens more interesting replacement has already arrived. I’m now trying to decide if I want to sell one or both. The Nexus aluminum has been a great pen, but I’m not sure I want it anymore. On the other hand, it’s the only of the two that I’ll be sad to have to sell.

The Bock nib and the grooved section on the Namisu Nexus Aluminum version.

The Bock nib and the grooved section on the Namisu Nexus Aluminum version.

 

MUJI Fountain Pen–Initial Impressions

Although there are two different MUJI stores nearby, I put off buying a MUJI fountain pen for a long time. I figured I could get one anytime I wanted one and therefore there was no reason to get one anytime soon. Something like that.

Then, last week, I found out that the pens use Schmidt nibs and since I already have two pens with such nibs (my Retro 51 EXT and my Karas Kustoms Ink) and like them a lot, I thought I should give the MUJI FP a try.

For those who don’t know, MUJI is a kind of cross between an IKEA and a Gap store. They emphasize both style and simplicity, and all their goods come unbranded. MUJI is short for Mujirushi Ryohin (無印良品 in Japanese) or “No-Brand Quality Goods”.

The pen is a slender tube of aluminum with a knurled section and a pop off cap that slips into a slot at the back of the pen allowing it to post securely without scratching the pen. It takes small standard international cartridges (I’ve not tried larger sized ones) and will take an international converter allowing it to use bottled ink. I’m currently using it with a converter made by Levenger and Parker Quink red ink.

The MUJI fountain pen.

The MUJI fountain pen. Under the knurling at the front you can see the slot where the cap slides in.

Capped and with a converter full of ink it weighs only 21 grams, or 3/4 of an ounce.

The knurled section is comfortable but still a bit slippery for my taste, although that may be because the pen, at 10 millimeters (.4 inches) is right at the edge of too slender. Unposted it has a decent length of 12.5 centimeters (4.9 inches). Posted it’s still a comfortable 16 centimeters (6.3 inches). The inside of the small cap is rubberized, which does a good job of protecting the nib from, ahem, improper insertions.

The steel nib had to be washed out of the box as it had some kind of oil on it, probably as rust protection, and it has a lot of feedback but nothing annoying or scratchy. At this point, I haven’t experienced any skips or hard starts.

A close up of the Schmidt nib and knurled section.

A close up of the Schmidt nib and knurled section.

To give it a work out, I’ve decided to make it my marking pen for the end of year exams. I’ve already had to make a lot of red marks with it and it seems to get along with the Parker Quink red.

My students may not be as impressed, though.