One-sided conversations with my newly discovered fountain pen...as yet I have not figured out how to make it answer me...

"Hello? Do you work? Will you continue to work for me? I will use you faithfully if you will, for you flow as smoothly as my thoughts are wont and the idea of using real flowing ink is enchanting."
"Do you still work? I think so."
scratch -- scratch -- twist -- turn -- press -- hold higher -- bend lower hmm, write, think slower, you can't write as fast...

Fog's cleared, hills are still haze covered, the trees indistinct. I feel a quiet happiness and satisfaction at having figured out how to make this work. Now I feel as if my thought are as flowing and free as the ink that flows from the tip of my pen.

"Why don't you want to work? I want to use you in a fitting manner, perhaps take you to class, but if you don't behave and give me a steady ink flow then you are no good to me and it's back in the drawer with you!!!"
"It's very unkind of you not to behave on a regular basis. How am I supposed to learn to write beautifully if you won't work when I want to practice? It's all very, very unkind...Or perhaps its my fault, perhaps it that I don't know how to use you to the best of your ability. Because you seem to be working quiet nicely now...but then again it might e a fluke and I am just being deluded into thinking that I really have gotten the hang of this and you really are going to start behaving now..."