Traditional writing has charm. As a matter of fact, most vintage things have charm. And yes, I will admit that it’s a pity, or at the least, very strange that writing by hand, in a notebook, with a pen, has come to be considered by me as vintage. Ah, well. It’s charming.
I love it when I do it – which is really like, all the time. There are typewriters too, and though I’ve neither seen nor used one before, I still tend to believe that there’s more magic in writing by hand than by typing. On any kind of keyboard, even a typewriter. (I still want a typewriter, though, so, if you’d be so kind…I’ll be waiting.)
I only feel like a writer when I’m writing physically, straight from the head, filling pages with ink in their style of my handwriting. I like to envision myself writing somewhere old and air-conditionless, wearing something long, soft and black, seeing everything in sepia. My notebook would be leather-bound, smaller than A4, handmade for me by somebody I love, and the pages smell like…like old books. The pen I use will be a fountain pen which frequently blots my pages. The ink would, of course, be black, because even now, I write in nothing but black ink.
I may have forgotten what the initial objective of writing this was.
But if you ever want to buy me a gift…some sexy notebooks and black pens would do.
Dang. So charming.
(Also, it’s really conducive for getting people to ignore what you’re doing when you want them to. When you’re writing during class when nothing relevant is happening, most teachers won’t suspect a thing. If you’re sneaking your iPad under a desk, however, that’s a different matter entirely. They promote the use of paper and pen so much, completely oblivious that they’ve already legalised my greatest distraction. *evil laugh*)