Three months without wanting to buy a pen

I ended up taking an almost two month break from blogging, without planning to do so. In September, I drafted three posts, but did not publish them. It was a hard month, and two of these unpublished posts were about the things that frustrated and bothered me in the hobby. I do not regret shelving them. The third was an inky post. I’ve been having trouble with my cellphone, and could not create good inky photos. I should probably get a new phone, maybe even a professional camera, but I do not want to upgrade.

I’ve been publishing two posts a month pretty steadily for two years, but I needed this break for my mental health. I am not sure what the rest of the year will hold.

Montegrappa Mermaid, Aurora Internazionale, and friends turquoise raven and bolo bear.

Which brings me to the actual topic of this post: I have not been tempted to buy a new pen in three months. This is unusual for me. September and October are usually big Pen Temptation months for me, but I’ve been narrowing things down ever since I came back from the St. Louis Pen Show. I did not buy a new pen there, but I did get my Conid fixed, and it’s been a near constant companion. I also came home with a burning desire for a figural old Montegrappa, and I rebalanced the collection to purchase a figural old Montegrappa from Bryant. I was not sure if I’d use it at first - it’s not a perfect pen, and it was an expensive one, and I was almost sure I’d find reasons not to love it; but I do. The combination of the Mermaid and my Conid, and my beloved Scribos, has filled some inner need that I did not think could ever be satisfied; like a very good meal, an unusual and beautifully presented and wonderful meal just for me, except that it does not vanish like meals do. The ink runs out, but the pens remain.

A gloomy October morning with my Montegrappa La Sirena, Conid Kingsize Wild Tiger, Scribo Feel Maddalena, and Leonardo Momento Zero Fioritura Viola.

I wrote the Mermaid dry, and I wrote the Conid dry, and I wrote the Scribo Maddalena dry; two piston fillers and one bulkfiller. I promptly refilled the Conid with the same exact ink, and I’m now halfway through that. I finished a fill of shimmery, seasonal Diamine x Cult Pens Maple Leaf in my Leonardo Fioritura Viola, a pen I love to use in the Fall. Last night, looking at the empty Mermaid, Scribo and Viola in the pen tray, I felt only that I wanted to refill them again, with the same or similar inks. So I refilled the Mermaid with Diamine Blue Velvet, where it previously had Pure Pens Celtic Sea, another exceptional blue from Diamine. And I reinked the Viola with Maple Leaf. It’s a perfect pairing.

So it’s not that I stopped loving fountain pens: I write all the time, and only with my pens. But the urge to refresh the collection is not there.

Suboptimal lighting, dying camera in my cellphone, chickenscratch writing as I’m trying to catch up with my thoughts… writing all the time.

I’ve also not wanted to add more ink. This is not a problem for me. I have 50-something bottles of ink, which is more than enough for a person who likes a varied but finite repertoire. I let another bottle of ink go to a pen friend, and could probably let go of some more, but I am in a good place with my ink library. I have been curious about Landseidel’s new line of Bowtie Collection inks (I love the drawings, and what a match with the Menagerie!) and in a better year I would have ordered one or even all three for my birthday, together with a Kempen A6 notebook, but I do not want to pay tariffs. At all. Some tariffs cannot be avoided, but tariffs on ink can be avoided, and my desire to avoid tariffs outweighs my fascination with these inks. It would have been different if I had less ink. Maybe.

So where does it leave me vis-à-vis the hobby? Some of my friends tell me that I’ve achieved some mythological pen enlightenment, but I honestly just feel confused and a bit sad. The hobby does not need to be about acquisition all the time, but I like wanting pens. I love fancy pens, but I have good willpower and I’m not worried about overspending. I enjoy the desiring process itself - regardless of whether or not I buy anything, the desiring process teaches me things about the world, about beauty, about pleasure, about myself. I want that, and I don’t really have that right now, at least not outwardly. I desire the pens I already have and I am very happy with them! But I already know them.

I love my collection so much, but have also been wondering whether to downsize a bit, again. I’ve not done so. Beadcat approves of the lineup.

I’m still noticing new releases, and old favorites from my wishlists when they pop up for sale. Scribo released a new pen model, and they are doing all those new and gorgeous urushi collaborations (at least I think this reel is going to be about an urushi pen?), but I simply admire them and move on. Maybe I am still sad because I discovered a mild urushi allergy while in STL. I’ve always expected urushi to be the next frontier in my exploration, but now that door is closed. It might be that I have the Scribo nibs I wanted, and I really don’t feel the urge for more, no matter how gorgeous.

This mood could also be a general depression of some sort. The political atmosphere in the US and worldwide is stifling. It’s hard to feel joy. But I do feel joy and pleasure when I use my pens. Which is all the time.

So, could it be… contentment?

Honestly, if it is, I don’t like it. I don’t want contentment.

I want to dream, I want to test hypotheses, I want to gather data, I want to figure out what it means not to want a new pen and then to propose a different reason, I want knowledge, I want discovery, I want movement.

Autumn has been a fickle thing this year, but leaves are finally turning. I have not gotten enough from my early Fall. I have not tapped enough sapwords out of this heart.

Nonetheless, onwards.

We went to a light show called Terra Luna, held annually in the Overland Park arboretum.