Ruminations about hermeneutics, theology, theory, politics, ecclesiastical life… and exercise.
Posts about fountain pens, pen aficionados, pen repairs, and so on.
No, please, don’t — it’s a retreat center out in the middle of nowhere, and I don’t have a long visit anyway. But it’s great to see Ralph McMichael, who brought me out here; and I got to see baby Harper Benko (along with her mom and dad). And Bishop Smith quoted Frank Weston to close his address to the clergy, and he indicated that he collects and restores fountain pens. Now, that’s a bishop!
Tomorrow I have three addresses to give, then I get to collapse in a heap.
Hard at work writing and incubating my presentations on Mark’s Gospel for next week. I’m working out the series as a supplementary response to Frank Kermode’s landmark The Genesis of Secrecy, framing Kermode’s interpretation from the standpoint afforded by my differential hermeneutics of signifying practices (though I won’t pelt the diocesan clergy with all that jargon). After I sketch my response to Kermode, I’ll demonstrate how the way of reading that I commend would pertain to a Markan ecclesiology.
Ryan pointed me to this article about written English by the late David Foster Wallace; Wallace hits a number of extremely well-balanced points, and I commend it highly. (Unfortunately, the PDF is very hard to read on-screen; you’ll want to print it out.)
Hey, how about the economy? If I were going to be choosing a year in which to become unemployed, this wouldn’t have been my top pick; I’m a little antsy about the whole “find a job by the end of the year” project. Ron points to the impact that the Wall Street convulsions are having on his street.
Sue Garrett pointed me to this “Pearls Before Swine” comic as a conversation-starter about hermeneutics.
I may not have mentioned recently how proud I am of my wife and daughter (and, longer-distance, my sons).
I do like my fountain pens. They provide a marvelous distraction from other matters to which I really, really ought to be paying more attention. On the other hand (“on the other hand, I have inkstains!”), I write more productively when I hand-write my brainstorming and first drafts. I broke out my No Nonsense Pen this morning for writing, and was startled at how beautifully that inexpensive, somewhat homely instrument writes. If only they had invested just a shade more elegance in the design, and were still producing the classic version of the NNP (not this rubberized-grip, long-section parvenue)!
I’ve admired fountain pens as long as I can remember. I recall my father’s Shaeffer Student cartridge pens, with which he recorded students’ marks in a weathered gradebook; I remember the hefty pens from visits and films, that I associated with elegance and class; I remember the Rapidograph that I brought back from France when I was in high school, and my mother’s Osmiroids with italic nibs. I have picked up miscellaneous pens over the decades: a few translucent Shaeffer Student pens of my own, some No Nonsense cartridge pens, Osmiroids of my own, the handsome Mont Blanc pen that my mother gave me when I got my Ph.D., the salmon marbled Esterbrook J pen that she handed down to me, a Pelikan from Margaret, a Stypen in which Nate lost interest, a Pelikan Future pen I bought on a whim. Some are still in the mug on my desk; some have eluded my attention and escaped to further adventures in someone else’s hand.
During my birthday season, I’ve returned to my primal fascination with fountain pens and gone on a mini-spree (hey, they’re a lot cheaper than sports cars) and replenished my fountain pen mug. I supplemented the Pelikan Future with a Lamy Safari; together they’ll provide the simple work-a-day pen support for my writing. I tracked down a couple of Esterbook J’s to complement the one from Mom (I’m a big-time sucker for Esterbrooks — though they don’t have the prestige of the costlier pens, I love their appearance and the way they write). I picked up a few Shaeffer Student pens from eBay, since (as it turns out) they no longer make those simple, hard-working cartridge writers. While I was on eBay, I spotted a couple more distinctive pens: a clear plastic Waterman Phileas, and a translucent purple Waterman Kultur (I can’t explain that one; it was auction fever). I’ll carry the Esterbrooks or the Phileas for more formal occasions. And I’ll love every jot and tittle of them (and every blot on my fingers).
Plus, it’s something Scot McKnight and I can agree about!
Jordon tagged me for a trivially revelatory meme, and since (by definition) it won’t touch on anything momentous, I’ll honor his request.
“Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.”
One, I became a (lifelong, so far) Baltimore Orioles fan when I was a kid growing up in Rochester, NY. My favorite players on the Redwings would be called up to play for the Orioles — so I became a fan of the O’s by virtue of being a fan of Mark Belanger (Crikey, I didn’t hear he had died! What a shame!), Wally Bunker, Fred Valentine, and Luke Easter (Luke Easter was batting coach for the Redwings in the day; somewhere my mom or dad has a photo of me perched in Luke Easter’s arms at Southtown Shopping Center).
Two, I’ve used varying forms of fountain pens since high school. During the summer before my sophomore year, I discovered Rapidographs, and I’ve been scrubbing inkstains off my fingertips ever since.
Three, one of these days I hope I’ll have time to take some drawing classes. That’s not a surprise, given my fascination with non-verbal communication, but maybe if I say it in public I’ll have the gumption to get around to doing it.
Four, I have worked as a general laborer in a fish cannery, a flyboy in the press room of a newspaper, and a waterbed installer before I settled into computer graphics.
Five, I began teaching myself Greek in high school. Allderdice offered Latin (I remember what the Latin teacher looked like, but I can’t recall her name), but I tried to learn Greek from a phrase book in study hall.
Six, since I’m foregrounding high school stories, I’ll note that in Student UN in high school, I served as a General Assembly delegate from Malaysia, as Ambassador from Malaysia, and as Chairman of the General Assembly. (Then there was the time I went to the North American Invitational Model UN at Georgetown as ambassador of the delegation from Guyana, and when we ran for co-bloc chairs with Fiji, the ambassador from Fiji turned out to be a distant cousin of mine, which neither of us knew until we got home.)
I hesitate to call out anyone else, but if you read this and no one else is tagging you, then consider yourself tagged from me.
I innocently asked Emory for his perspective on increasing my organization and productivity, and he sent me to his White Paper on Productivity (I think I have some white paper that says something about productivity; it’s probably over there, under the goldenrod paper, by the empty coffee cup). While I was supposed to be learning how to be more productive, I fell under the spell of web pen porn. How can anyone concentrate on work, when you can spend all day ogling fountain pens?
Si’s tendinitis is acting up, which reminded me that I was diagnosed with hypermobility and de Quervain’s almost four years ago. When I read some of what I blogged before treatment, I realize that immobilizing my thumb and taking particular care of how I use it really have affected my condition. The thumb hardly ever hurts, and when some circumstantial effect triggers a flash of sensation, it’s more surprising than painful. So that’s a good thing.
Finally, in the transition to Leopard and my hand-wrought file transfer process, my mailboxes got a little jumbled. That’s not a big deal to the extent that I can dig stuff up through the “search” function of Mail.app, but it means that my Inbox has just been emptied willy-nilly, meaning that I have unintentionally declared email bankruptcy. Let’s see how long I can go before I fall back into debt.