My materialistic fountain pen side

I love fountain pens and accessories. Well, not all of it. But I’ve gotta post a little to show you what I’ve recently loved.

This, the Kaweco Liliput Fountain Pen, is something I fell in love with. I can’t say why really. I think it’s really pretty:

 Kaweco Liliput Fountain Pen

 Kaweco Liliput Fountain Pen

There’s a video on how they were made!

Or how about the Bungbox stuff, like a “Original Mt. Fuji motif pen rest/paperweight”:

Bungbox Original Mt. Fuji motif pen rest/paperweight

The pen that rests on top of Mount Fiji there is horrid though.

Or, for more pretty stuff from that very company, how about the “The ink of Witch, Original bottled ink for fountain pens, 50ml, Dark purple, Blackish-purple”:

Bungbox The ink of Witch, Original bottled ink for fountain pens, 50ml, Dark purple, Blackish-purple

That’s some Tove Jansson kind of shit. I like it, as with the bottle itself. And the colour is special. Blackish-purple. Even feels good saying.

Or how about a funkily designed pen? Namiki Raden Vanishing Point, 18K gold, rhodium plated. Note that the clip is on the nib end of the pen. Weird! Yeah, the pen’s far too expensive for me, and I think I’d grow tired of a pen that’d twinkle that much. Like having a sparkler in your face constantly.

Namiki Raden Vanishing Point, 18K gold, rhodium plated

Speaking of trying out, where’s that J. Herbin Stormy Grey?

Some grey with tiny gold flakes at the bottom. Woo. I’m intrigued.

I’ll stop now. Glad to have that stuff out of my system.

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Movies I've watched recently:

  • Crazy Love (2007) - IMDb 7/10

    2014-11-04 20:43
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    I shan't really say anything tangible about this film as that would ruin the "premise"; having said that, I don't feel the "big twist" in this film was the Big Thing, but rather that the story was It. I mean, the filmmakers are the ones who should be lauded for patching this story together very elegantly. All in all - recommended.

  • Mördaren ljuger inte ensam (2013) - IMDb 1/10

    2014-10-26 21:43

    This is a plethora of bad. There are so many bad things about this, apart from the fact that Rapace and Novotny's abilities should be far better utilised. A midsummer's party in the Swedish archipelago, seemingly set in the 1950s; intrigue is everywhere, despite there being a handful of characters there. Nothing bad about this, but where it has been handled subtly in the past - e.g. Woody Allen's "Match Point" - this is a study in treating the viewer as infinitely stupid. Sexual "innuendo" is continuous, and constantly overstated so blatantly that you'd think sexuality was just discovered and has never been used in film before. You really don't care about the characters. Who lives, who dies - who cares? Apart from that, the film *glows*. That's not symbolism; there's an abysmal filter over the film which makes every bit of light look like it's glowing. Incredibly irritating. All in all: avoid, by Jove, and never look back.

  • Attica (TV Movie 1980) - IMDb 6/10

    2014-10-26 17:12
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    I think Emma Goldman noted that every civil war is class war. In this instance, that really rings true. One of the characters in the film notes that 60f the inmates in Attica were black and 0f the guards were black. As for the higher-ups of Attica, well, I'll pick my guess at the quotas there. The Attica riot was spectacular: the inmates took over and stood their ground for 22 days until riot police massacred a bunch of inmates and, actually, 10 of the hostages. The film deals with the humane aspects of the take-over in a lot of ways. The legal people mainly think the inmates' demands are valid. The governor is slammed by demands from outsiders, seemingly mainly the people and the police unions. The dilemma is plain to see. I really liked the fact that there's very little soundtrack here. The film ended abruptly, but that's due to the real chain of events. Recommendable because of the humanity.

  • Hypnotisören (2012) - IMDb 2/10

    2014-10-19 23:32
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    This is basically like your everyday Beck film, but two things are different here: 1. One actor can actually act somewhat; it's Lena Olin 2. The cinematography is slighly better than during most Beck films; still, the shaky-handheld-cam thing still has Swedish film locked in a vice Apart from those two things, the dialogue is bog standard (i.e. dreadful and unbelievable) and I found no sympathy for the characters, the film or the plot. Do avoid.

  • The Trial of Jeffrey Dahmer (Video 1992) -... 7/10

    2014-10-18 17:36
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    The voice-over from the man at the start is *not* rated here; the trial, however, is; naturally, this is a very abridged version as this film is only 90 minutes long, but the most interesting bits about it, I think, are the psychologist's words from having spoken with Dahmer and Dahmer's own words at the very end.


Charlie Chaplin, on his mother’s “insanity”

Charles Chaplin - My Autobiography

From Charlie Chaplin’s autobiography, here is a straight-forward, heart-wrenching story from his life, on when he heard of his mother’s waning mental health.

‘Your mother’s gone insane,’ said a little girl. The words were like a slap in the face. ‘What do you mean?’ I mumbled. ‘It’s true,’ said another. ‘She’s been knocking at all our doors, giving away pieces of coal, saying they were birthday presents for the children. You can ask my mother.’ Without hearing more, I ran up the pathway, through the open door of the house and leaped up the stairs and opened the door of our room. I stood a moment to catch my breath, intensely scrutinizing her. It was a summer’s afternoon and the atmosphere was close and oppressive.

Mother was sitting as usual at the window. She turned slowly and looked at me, her face pale and tormented. ‘Mother!’ I almost shouted. ‘What is it?’ she said listlessly. Then I ran and fell on my knees and buried my face in her lap, and burst into uncontrollable weeping. ‘There, there,’ she said gently, stroking my head. ‘What’s wrong?’ ‘You’re not well,’ I cried between sobs. She spoke reassuringly: ‘Of course I am.’ She seemed so vague, so preoccupied. ‘No! No! They say you’ve been going to all the houses and –’ I could not finish, but continued sobbing. ‘I was looking for Sydney,’ she said weakly; ‘they’re keeping him away from me.’ Then I knew that what the children had said was true.

‘Oh, Mummy, don’t talk like that! Don’t! Don’t!’ I sobbed. ‘Let me get you a doctor.’ She continued, stroking my head: ‘The McCarthys know where he is, and they’re keeping him away from me.’ ‘Mummy, please let me get a doctor,’ I cried. I got up and went towards the door. She looked after me with a pained expression. ‘Where are you going?’ ‘To get a doctor. I won’t be long.’ She never answered, but looked anxiously after me. Quickly I rushed downstairs to the landlady. ‘I’ve got to get a doctor at once, Mother’s not well!’ ‘We’ve already sent for him,’ the landlady said.

The parish doctor was old and grumpy and after hearing the landlady’s story, which was similar to that of the children, he made a perfunctory examination of Mother. ‘Insane. Send her to the infirmary,’ he said. The doctor wrote out a paper; besides other things it said she was suffering from malnutrition, which the doctor explained to me, saying that she was undernourished. ‘She’ll be better off and get proper food there,’ said the landlady by way of comforting me.

And on that note, let’s see just how Chaplin’s mother blamed him for her “insanity”, all boiled down to…a cup of tea:

Although Sydney tried to cheer Mother up, telling her of his good fortune and the money he had made and his reason for having been away so long, she just sat listening and nodding, looking vague and preoccupied. I told her that she would soon get well. ‘Of course,’ she said dolefully, ‘if only you had given me a cup of tea that afternoon, I would have been all right.’ The doctor told Sydney afterwards that her mind was undoubtedly impaired by malnutrition, and that she required proper medical treatment, and that although she had lucid moments, it would be months before she completely recovered. But for days I was haunted by her remark: ‘If only you had given me a cup of tea I would have been all right.’

By the way, to say Chaplin was born into poverty is a huge understatement; please check this quote from the book:

I was well aware of the social stigma of our poverty. Even the poorest of children sat down to a home-cooked Sunday dinner. A roast at home meant respectability, a ritual that distinguished one poor class from another. Those who could not sit down to Sunday dinner at home were of the mendicant class, and we were that. Mother would send me to the nearest coffee-shop to buy a sixpenny dinner (meat and two vegetables). The shame of it – especially on Sunday! I would harry her for not preparing something at home, and she would vainly try to explain that cooking at home would cost twice as much.

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My saved links (weekly)

Posted from Diigo. The rest of my favorite links are here.

Morrissey re. “sung beauty” and personal reflection re. “Asleep”

Morrissey and The Dolls

Zülâl Kalkandelen has interviewed Morrissey three times quite recently, and this latest interview has been released today. In it, Morrissey lets the reader know of how he feels in regards to “the performance”. It’s a good read, not only because of his eloquence, but because he critiques old thoughts on what a “performance” should be.

In regards to that, I came to think of the last time I saw Morrissey live, which was in Stockholm a couple of weeks ago. It feels like yesterday, but at the same time, it could have been years ago. I still remember much from seeing him live for the first time in my life, which was in 1994. 20 years ago, but it feels like yesterday in so many facets.

I think of Morrissey singing “Asleep” in Stockholm. I wept. Tears just streamed out from me. Before the concert I told Mia that a notion had crept up on me, telling me that this would be the last time I’d ever see Morrissey alive. I don’t think it’s because he has stated that he has cancer, or anything else; it just felt that way, intensely so.

I imagine that it could be hard for some to understand how much Morrissey means to me. His lyrics, his song, his self; it all crashed into my life circa the mid-nineties, and stayed there as The Firmament, ever since. I would not wish his loss upon anyone.

As he sung “Asleep“, I believe every word left him with intent. And as such, I cried, in a way, as I cried when he opened the concert by playing “The Queen Is Dead“; I know that his fervent hatred for the so-called royal family is well-deserved and I feel the same. Death and life are not the same; or, are they? I dunno.

There is no other person who can evoke such feelings in me today. Which is sad, really, as Morrissey is 55 years old; there’s possibly a punk band that displays the same raw emotion and is able to strain it through lyrics and music, but I haven’t heard them much. A handful in total, perhaps, but none like Morrissey. Our Morrissey. My Morrissey. It’s strange to consider a world without him.

Don’t feel bad for me/there is a better world

From the aforementioned interview:

In the book “How Music Works”, David Byrne writes, “In musical performances one can sense that the person on stage is having a good time even if they’re singing a song about breaking up or being in a bad way. For an actor this would be anathema, it would destroy the illusion, but singing one can have it both ways.” I have always wondered how you feel while singing “I Know It’s Over” or “Asleep” on stage. What exactly do you feel at such intimate moments?

I don’t ever forget the original process that created the song, so therefore the pain doesn’t take absence simply because this is now 2014 and I have a decent bank account and a few good friends. If a song becomes important to many people, well, this is not coincidental. To sing an emotive song is not a confidence game – you cannot do it unless you feel it. But I disagree with David Byrne on the subject of acting because many great actors can bring off failure magnificently, and we love them for it all the more. We can identify the artists who have created beauty for everyone, and we can also see that they have suffered for it, and that’s why we will always love them. I also disagree with David when he uses the term ‘musical performance’ because if you have a true and physical need to sing a song then you are not performing. Performance is forced and artificial, and you are either a singer, or else you are… simply … a costume.

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Making music while ill (a song I’ve made)


I’ve spent the last days at home ill, and as I’m feeling a lot better, I’ve made a tiny recording of a thing that bounced around in my head this morning. I think it’s a remnant from hearing Swans for hours on end yesterday. Enjoy!

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