Presentation Of The Cross To The Lord of Writing & Art

Previously selling at $155.90, it was now clearing out at $50. I didn't know if i wanted to get it at first. Back home, I have a cheap calligraphy set with 5 interchangeable nibs which i bought for $14 or so from POPULAR. I've used it several times to draw and write cheap notes but never truly used it like a fanatic artist would, drawing night and day to perfect his/her craft. I think i'm not that sort of crafter. I go through cycles.

Today, i wasn't quite in a writer / artist phase so I took about 45 minutes to decide if i should invest in a fountain pen of this stature. The lighting in the basement cavern where ill bookshops come to unload their burdens played tricks on my eyes. At first i saw the pen as silver. The girl who sold this to me told me it was green. I told her, It looks silver to me. Not to argue with her or anything but to inform her that i saw what i see and it's ok. Silver pen. It will be the bullet that slays the menacing werewolf of mediocre doodling and weak writing. Time vanished as i walked around the dark space with leftover books and overstocked toys, deciding if i should sell my soul to writing and art again. It would be an outward fetish object to empower an inner dynamic. A dedication to the craft once again and a renewal of the vows as a writer and an artist. This sick green colored pen which i believe to be silver.

 So I bought it. Telling myself Yes, Merry Christmas present to me. A treat for NOT completing my November non-fiction spiritual book. It will be a present to defy the present situation. It will be a present to dictate and create the future. 
 Then  I reminded myself that I actually want  something bigger for christmas and for 2012. A DJ console. That object will be another physical statement of an inner renewal of ancient vows. To Be God, The DJ. Who shuffles Tarot cards and Music playlists to alter the state of humankind. 

At home i fed the new pen new blood and tested it out by designing a profound doodle. This picture here is the mother womb of eggs and possible futures of which one would include a rewriting of private cosmogonies.

Get yourself an outward significator of an inner vow today. We all need an object sometimes, to remind us of why we exist. 

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