Fountain Pens and Silly Obsessions

It’s one last meaningless thing…

Hi, we’re adding a new section to JoeBlogs called: “It’s One Last Meaningless Thing.” Here, I’ll be writing about, well, it’s all in the title—meaningless things, my new obsession with fountain pens, chess, Taylor Swift, “The Bear,” infomercials, family silliness, the best notebooks, iPad reviews, “Inside Out 2,” chess openings, whatever stuff happens to be going on in my Silly Old Bear Winnie-the-Pooh head.

I’ve never fully trusted that people care enough about my rambling thoughts, but over the many years of writing JoeBlogs, the single biggest request—by many, many multiples—is that I write more personal stuff. So, let’s try some of that.

Now, I am well aware that some of you don’t want this at all. This is why I’ve created “One Last Meaningless Thing” as a section. If you want to opt out, just hop on over to JoeBlogs, click on your logo in the upper right-hand corner, and then click on “Manage Subscription.” Voila! There you can unclick any topic you don’t want anymore, including “One Last Meaningless Thing.”

My fountain pen obsession grows rapidly… and, to Margo’s way of thinking, dangerously. I can’t blame her. She’s seen this act before. I’m looking around my office, and in every corner, I see the fossils of my recent obsessions scattered.

There’s a magic trick I bought when I was in my magic obsession phase. I’m not exactly OUT of that phase—my love of magic goes back a long way, long before I wrote THE LIFE AND AFTERLIFE OF HARRY HOUDINI, and I’m sure it will be with me the rest of my life—but it’s not my No. 1 obsession at the moment. I must say, however, that this is a good trick. It involves mind reading and a book. It has fooled my daughters and their friends many times. I’m lucky enough to know many comedians and have heard them talk about the singular joy of making people laugh, really laugh. I’d say the joy of doing a magic trick lies in inspiring real wonder; well, that’s pretty good, too.

Family understanding of this obsession (on a scale from 1-to-10): 7. They mostly accept the magic stuff with good humor. Dad being Dad, you know?

Separate from my magic obsession is my Houdini obsession. You’ll find evidence of that throughout the house. While writing Houdini, I bought all sorts of Houdini stuff—posters, action figures, handcuffs, memorabilia, books, obviously. I finished that book years ago, but the stuff is still here—the stairway leading up to the office is lined with Houdini posters, and I have a special bookshelf filled entirely with Houdini stuff.

Has my Houdini passion cooled? Sort of. It’s not on the top of my list. But I will tell you that in October, Margo and I are going on a magic retreat built around the life and times of Houdini.

Family understanding of this obsession: 8. They tolerate this because I (cleverly, I must say) have masked my Houdini zaniness in professional terms—“hey, I’m writing a Houdini book, I have no choice but to buy these Houdini cuffs!”

There, in the opposite corner of the office, is the Olympia SM9 manual typewriter I bought when I was in my typewriter obsession phase. I own three typewriters now, one of them electric, which I don’t love as much. Like with magic and Houdini, I’m not entirely out of the typewriter phase—I’ve been eyeing a Hermes 3000, which seems to rank up there with the SM9 as the “ultimate typewriter for writers,” a term I have Googled roughly 5,839 times.*

*I’ve searched that term so many times that now when I do it, Google asks: “Seriously? Again?”

And, look: I love typing on that Olympia SM9. It makes me feel like Arthur Miller or something. I want to get a fedora to wear when I’m typing. I wish I could be typing this post on that typewriter. Truth is, I don’t have enough opportunities to type on there, but the amazing letters I’ve received from Tom Hanks have given me the ultimate excuse to get some typewriter paper, sit at the desk, and bang out long letters back. It’s just the best.

Family understanding of this obsession: 5. I think they sort of get the typewriter thing (me being a writer and all) and sort of don’t get it (computers have been invented). Margo has made her opinion clear that my Olympia is obnoxiously loud and that if I want to use it, she will find an excuse to be out somewhere, anywhere, maybe buying Excedrin.

Behind my desk—visible to everyone when I’m on Zoom calls—is one of the three “Casablanca” posters I have bought and framed. It’s my favorite of the three posters, which is why it’s the one behind my desk. We have movie posters all over the house. Many of them are classics—”Casablanca,” “North by Northwest,” “The Godfather,” “Citizen Kane,” “It’s a Wonderful Life,” and so on—but I also went on a sports movie poster kick for a while, so, yeah, you’ll see “The Natural” and “The Hustler” and “Hoosiers” and “Breaking Away” and “Field of Dreams” and “Raging Bull” and “Rocky” and…

Actually, it has been a while since I’ve bought a movie poster, which might mean that this one is in remission. But maybe not. Just writing that paragraph has reignited something inside, and I’m realizing that we don’t have a “League of Their Own” poster, and that’s unacceptable, and I really want a “Third Man” poster and also a “His Girl Friday” poster—wait, hold on, I have to go buy a “His Girl Friday” poster.

OK. Thanks for waiting.

Family understanding of this obsession: 10. Classic movies is the one passion I’ve passed along to the family. They all share in it. This is particularly true for our oldest daughter, Elizabeth, who seems constantly shocked that none of her friends have seen “Double Indemnity” (got to get that poster!),. and none of them have the affinity she has for Cary Grant.

This is only the beginning of my many passions and obsessions. You should see my YouTube home page. Well, actually, you shouldn’t, it’s startling and embarrassing. To give you an idea, let’s go see what’s on there right now:

• A chess video breaking down two structures that every Caro-Kann player should know. (I’m not a Caro-Kann player, but maybe I will become one!)

• Another video of GothamChess—the biggest chess streamer—breaking down the games of a 10-year-old from Argentina who’s likely to become the youngest grandmaster in the history of chess.

• A video fountain pen podcast with Brian and Drew (I know them by first name!) that covers a lot of ground, including which dip pen you should buy.

• Sitting Down with Hemingway Jones: Fountain Pen 20 Questions—Hemingway Jones is a fountain pen internet personality. (Yes, that’s right.)

• An unboxing of the Traveler’s Notebook, which, well, I’ll get into that whole notebook thing in a minute.

• Roger Federer’s commencement address at Dartmouth.

• The Pongfinity table tennis guys challenging a soccer player to a wild game of H-O-R-S-E to prove, I don’t know, something or other. (It’s a great video, like all of the Pongfinity videos are.)

• A video showing The Detail Geek power-washing and detailing the dirtiest and most disgusting car you’ve ever seen.

What even is my life?

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So, fountain pens are my latest obsession, and I would say it’s the first one that nobody in the family gets even a little bit. They just look at me sadly when a new package arrives. I haven’t seen this much eye-rolling since watching Joan when I last binge-watched all seven seasons of “Mad Men” (another obsession).

I’m not entirely sure how the fountain pen passion exploded. Usually, I can sort of reverse-engineer my passions and fixations to get at what they say about me. This pen thing… I don’t know.

What happened, best I can remember, is that I ran across an old, super-simple and not-overly-expensive fountain pen that someone had given me as a gift years ago. It obviously didn’t write. So, I searched online for a Cross Bailey cartridge refill, and it led me to the Goulet Pen Company in Virginia. That company was started by Brian Goulet and his wife, Rachel. See, Brian used to work with his father doing home power washing*—I’m talking about Brian like I know him or something. On the side, he did some woodworking and made fountain pens.**

*Don’t go down the power-washing rabbit hole; there are SO many oddly hypnotic power-washing videos to watch out there. As you might have guessed from my YouTube page, I’ve watched a few… but, so far, I’ve managed to keep a respectful distance.

**Note to self: Ask Nick Offerman if he has made any woodworking fountain pens.

One thing led to another, Brian and Rachel started the Goulet Pen company, and, through their own enthusiasm and warmth, have built the company into a little fountain pen powerhouse. They’ve got like 40 employees now, a 23,000-square-foot office and warehouse, and a YouTube channel with more than 200,000 subscribers.

So, while I was at their site, I watched the first of what would be 8 trillion Goulet Pen videos. I think that first one was something like, “Seven best starter fountain pens for beginners.” One thing led to another and to another, Goulet had the Sailor Compass 1911 on sale, and I thought: Sure, I’ll try that out. What could be the harm? It’s not like I’m going to become obsessed with fountain pens or anything like that.

You never see it coming, do you?

First, I used only fountain pen cartridges. Then I learned about converters, which allow you to draw ink directly from a bottle right into the pen. Well, I obviously had to try that. This led to me buying a TWSBI Diamond 580 ALR, because it has this very cool filling system and a pretty enormous ink capacity. So, I loved that very much, and the TWSBI was amazing to write with.

One thing I didn’t love about the TWSBI is that you can’t post it. I learned that putting the cap on a pen while writing with it is called “posting,” and it’s a universal argument in this world, sort of the Ginger and Mary Ann of the fountain pen community. Some think that you should NEVER post a pen (except for the itty bitty pocket ones), because it defiles the writing experience. I’ve actually seen someone use that word, “defile.” I personally think you should always post the pen, because, at least in my case, I will lose the cap instantly if I don’t.

But you can’t post the TWSBI. Well, you CAN post it, and I did, but then you run the danger of twisting the cap (which I did) which can cause ink to spill out (which it did) which might lead to your wife yelling at you (no comment).

So, I had to get a pen that posts well. I therefore got a black Lamy CP1, which I like a lot, but apparently the CP1 is not a favorite among the Lamy contingent—think of the Lamy contingent as University of Alabama football fans of the pen community. (Neil Gaiman is a Lamy guy!) So, the Lamy people said I had to get a Lamy Safari, which I did, but I wasn’t as taken by that one, and then I saw that I needed to get a bold nib for the Safari (bold nibs write a lot thicker and smoother and smear like a London tabloid), so I got that, and I still didn’t like it.

My desk, and obsessions (yes, that’s a photo of me with the 1975 Reds’ starting 8).

Then I went the other way, looking for pocket pens with the finest nibs I could find, which led me to the Kaweco Liliput, which I have described as the pen James Bond would carry, because of the way it transforms from a capsule to a beautiful pen, and other Kaweco pens like the AL Sport, all of which led me to the Platinum #3776 Century, which has something they call an “ultra-fine nib,” and I can’t begin to describe how much happiness it brings me.

That led me to a bunch of videos from all over that talked about the next-level fountain pens, and then next-next level fountain pens, and some of these have gold nibs, and the prices started going up, and suddenly I had to have a Pilot Vanishing Point, which is a technological marvel: It’s a clicky fountain pen with a retractable nib. Everybody said my writing experience was incomplete unless I got a Lamy 2000, and so Margo, undoubtedly feeling pity, bought me one for Father’s Day.

On and on it went. Being beguiled by fountain pens naturally led to a preoccupation with quality paper. Can’t have one without the other. So, I started buying notebooks with great paper—Rhodia, Clairefontaine (which is sort of the same thing), Maurman, Midori, Apica, and the Beatles of fountain pen paper, Tomoe River.

Then, obviously, I needed places to put these notebooks, so, after watching like 500 more videos, I bought a passport-size and regular-size Traveler’s Notebook, and I am hopelessly in love with these. (I bring my passport-sized Traveler’s with me everywhere I go.) Then, I realized I wanted a regular old A5-sized notebook carrier*, which Traveler’s does not offer, so I got this crazy Roterfaden Taschenbegleiter, which might now be the single greatest thing I own, surpassing my chewed-up 1956 Sandy Koufax card…

*Yeah, that’s right, I now know the different sizes of paper—A5 is kind of the standard, mid-range notebook size, the sort you will see on the Barnes and Noble journal shelves.

…OK, can you tell? I’ve lost my mind. Completely. It happened fast.

Put it this way: I plan on going to the Washington, D,C, Fountain Pen Supershow in August, which I’m told is the biggest pen show on earth. Margo plans on skipping that. She says she’ll probably be here when I get back.

I really do wonder what it is about fountain pens and notebooks (and, to a lesser degree, ink) that have so captured and enraptured me. I’ve spent way too much time thinking about it and scribbling down thoughts (using different fountain pens and ink and paper!).

The best I can come up with is this: I’m increasingly baffled by our ever-changing world. I try to stay connected, to be somewhat current, to keep up with the latest technology and trends. There’s no choice, really. I’ve witnessed how my profession has tossed and turned, seen newspapers shrivel, seen the many ups and downs of the internet, helplessly watched Sports Illustrated die and revive and die and revive. I have many friends who are no longer in this business. I am the lucky son of a gun still doing what I love. Maybe a part of that has been adapting.

But there’s always a part of me that longs for a simpler time, for a way to unplug and return to something real and familiar. I think that’s what the typewriter thing is about. I think that’s what the old movies thing is about. In fact, when I think about it, that’s probably what all my obsessions have been about.

One thing I’ve noticed about my fountain pen obsession: I’m not really interested in the collectible side of the hobby. I’m not drawn to the ultra-expensive art pens (Margo is grateful, at least, for this), or the special editions or even the color of the pens. I mean, yeah, I don’t want all my pens to be black, I’ll take some variety, but that’s not what draws me at all.

No, for me, it’s all about the writing. I want the ultimate writing experience. I routinely rank my fountain pens, (I already have 10, I’m embarrassed to say, though in this world that’s a mockingly small number.) I rank them weekly, based on how smoothly they write, how finely they write and how much I enjoy using them. I enjoy seeing how the pens move up and down the list.

As such, I’m writing all the time now, testing pens, testing inks, testing paper, filling notebooks, scribbling down thoughts, and it has taken me away from my phone somewhat, and it has taken me away from social media somewhat, and, I don’t know, it has brought me back somehow. It has given me a little peace.

Well, hey, it’s a hard thing to explain. But I’ll tell you what: I’ve recently heard from some people I don’t know that the Pilot E95S might be the greatest writing pen in the world. I think I better explore deeper.