There is something about pens and paper that inspires me to think, and to write. Receiving a new pen, or a new stock of paper or notebook, fires my mind. A myriad possibilities seem open to me, and I positively hum with anticipation when a new package arrives. Tomorrow I receive such a package, and it will contain french paper by Rhodia, a stock of Uniball pens (cheap but excellent), an O-Check slim leather notebook and a collection of other goodies. Tomorrow's package does not contain a Platignum pen, but last week's package did. It was inexpensive but remains quite satisfying to use.
I have a strange, creative compulsion to stockpile such goods. I have more than I need at any one time, and the miserly puritan on my right shoulder tells me that I should be more economical. Somehow, I can't stop, though - and having a selection available for spontaneous use seems to be encouraging and comforting in some way. Comfort is important, and I think this is because writing hurts. Not to say that it is corrosive, or destructive, or diminishing in any way. It's more the case that something gets exposed in the process, like a bandage coming off a wound. The air is good for it, but the exposed flesh is vulnerable.
For those in Australia, I can recommend Notemaker and Manifesto Brands to feed the habit. Luckily for them, I won't be easing my compulsion to hoard anytime soon.