I've discovered that one of the most satisfying feelings in the world, is getting home from work after a long day, checking the mailbox, and seeing absolutely nothing.
No bills, no fines, no spam, no soliciting - just an empty mailbox that demands nothing of me so I can just enjoy my evening.
I've been spending more time writing in notebooks and less on my computers, too. Fountain pens are chill as long as you don't go nuts collecting pens and bottles of ink.
For me it was calligraphy nibs (I think that's what they're called), especially the really fine point variety. As the risk of sounding nuts, it was wonderful how focused they made me feel. A different varietal of nuts, I suppose.
Nice. I haven't gotten into calligraphy myself; I don't see the point since I'm left-handed and can't even hold a pen "properly".
I didn't get into calligraphy either. :-) I just did what I'd normally do with a regular pen via the process of dipping and using a nib.
In a way it was to handwriting what paper has become to me when writing out thoughts - slowing things down, making what what was written/drawn more meaningful for requiring more thought/planning/effort.
I started because it had occurred to me that everything I put of myself into a computer is fundamentally ephemeral; it only exists when the device storing it is getting power. Once I'm nothing but a memory, everything I've created with a computer is just so many tears in the rain. But if I were to pour myself into a physical notebook, then as long as that notebook survives something of me survives with it.
This is possibly going to sound weird, but I experienced something similar finally marrying the woman I was with for over a decade. In fact, I remain astonished at how much better my orgasms have been since we finalized - survivalized? - it.
It doesn't sound weird, but I wonder if you meant for this to be a reply to this post and not another.
The Midnight doesn't have any of that stuff either :p
Yes. Can't tell you how much I appreciate the intelligent/good people behind it, *and* the participants. It's in the vicinity of having found an undisclosed enclave of intelligent beings. I can't even remember... oh, wait a second... vaguely remembering... the one and only "m1so" (hope I spelled that correctly...) found me somewhere else and pointed me this direction. And whoever that 'm1so' actually is, well, let's pretend I'm wearing a hat at this moment in order to remove it and nob/bow their direction, because although there's not a ton of activity here, when there is it's worth reading, and I'm hard-pressed to name another site/place where I get that feeling.
Someone enters the pub, walks up to the bar. ~bartender is there, ready to help. But this time the person waves their hands. ~bartender stares a little at the unfolding pantomime --- it then dawns on him: paper! The person is asking for pen&paper to write down their order. Some action ensues, the characteristic noise of paper shuffling around can be heard ...
~bartender! Whatever this person is ordering, it's on me! Oh, it's ~inquiry! They look as if they had enough for today. So, whatever you fancy!
---
Paper and Postal Service --- they have a "low pass filter", the time to transfer said paper from sender to recipient is greatly increased, and thus your peace of mind shall be increased accordingly.
Slow greetings from somewhere near the fireplace ...
~ew
PS: Something seems broken in this thread, like a not closed verbatim tag ...
Yes! This broke my client, I was wondering what happened
It's an un-closed <pre> tag, possibly because the entire gemtext post was in a literal (```) block.
I fixed it in the original post.
The reason it (un-closed literal) was because the first time I added the closing sequence, it literally showed up in the text, so I got rid of it, having no idea it could affect subsequent responses.
I don't know why it was showing up, but when it was, the closing sequence was immediately after text. When I relocated the closings sequence to being on its own line, suddenly all was well in The Land of (the) Literal.