Edmundo Bagel [1935-2005]

There is much archived material about this intriguing man. Below is an extract from his memoirs

to give a taster. It was found by Exeter as she trawled through a mass of information 'acquired' from a dumpster at the back of Leipzig University's Archives and Historical Records Department, whilst lying low in a Montana log cabin for a couple of months last year [file notes have been retained where salient]:

Came across this in my readings, written by some Edmundo Tomsk Bagel but thought it was worth sharing in a reductionist existential fashion. whatever see what you think [can't print it all because it goes on forever but, you know...]

What’s It Like to be a Pen? Bagel thinks…

The Secret life of Biro pt 1

I have this dream. One that needs to come to full realization. To design a pen in order to reach the divine. To grasp that almost unreachable goal of inky light....oh how I ponder.

I love pens. They are quite wonderful artifacts. Utilitarian but Spiritual at the same time. Disposable but still capable of reaching heights of enlightened bliss through their use as writing instruments. Disposable is of course used as an open ended word that is multi-faceted- some pens are blatantly more disposable than others, for example a rudimentary pencil purloined [accidentally of course] from IKEA is ultimately, as beautiful an artifact as it may be, of less value than an 18 carat gold plated Ronson the loss of which would cause much sufferance to oneself. The humble pen [and of course pencil, the much derided lesser sibling] nonetheless has its rightful place in the pantheon of writing utensils with as much validity- I would strongly argue- as the most finely crafted goose feather quill dipped in a chalice of a cherished one's blood in order to seal a Lover's Tryst. But I digress.

I have presently in my pocket two pencils, a sharpener, and three pens.

The first pencil is approximately four inches long, a good noble size, and is blue and very sharp. I use it to tick of my household chores list and sharpen it twice a day [the household chore list is updated on a daily basis but this is not the forum to discuss that at the moment]. My sharpener is about half of an inch long, silver, and a cherished memento from my school days where I was habitually bullied, but I always had my sharpener in hand to comfort me. It is on it's thirty-first blade, at the time of writing. I do not however keep this sharpener continually in my pocket now, but in a small brown coffee jar lid that sits on a radiator shelf in the hall of my house.

The second pencil is black with gold piping down it's sides and is about two and a half inches long. A little too small for my liking and it's a little blunt and not as sharp as the blue one but nonetheless it is perfectly serviceable for day-to-day use like scribbling down ideas about God and Death to oneself and the like. I keep it more for sentimental reasons than effective usage and call it Mr Stubby.

The first pen is yellow and plastic and has black ink and a fine nib. The end has however snapped off revealing the slim, inner see through plastic tube of ink which clearly supplies the nib but, more often than not, often slips out of the yellow plastic housing.

I rarely use this pen and do not know why i keep it in my pocket. I have occasionally scribbled about life and it all possibly being one big dream- an illusion no less- where what I think or do is of no consequence because there is a Greater Plan but I admit at times these thoughts have come after a few glasses of good Port and, I must confess, much Vodka.

The second pen is another 'disposable' type in clear plastic but the top inch of which bears the markings of pensive teeth and the blue stopper at the end is badly chewed. I use this this pen for crosswords, scribbling aide-memoires such as ‘Asda: more twiglets and sherry’ and filling out betting slips. I am on a good run at the moment and like to think of this as my Lucky Pen and am worried it will run out soon. I am also worried that I may even be starting to think of it as My Magic Pen and as such am prey to worries that my mental health may be deteriorating again.

The third pen is a Pilot drawing pen 0.35mm width nib. it has a nice detachable lid that, when the pen is in use, fits snugly on to the top of the pen’s very tactile and quite soothingly smooth shaft. I like to use this pen for bold gestures such as letters to the Radio Times, sketching out planting plans for my walled rear courtyard garden and writing hymns.

Pens are so much more than what at first greets the eye and I believe their spiritual dimension goes largely unacknowledged, their true purpose as a prime mechanism to reaching enlightenment sorely undersung….

[to be continued...just getting all of his stuff sorted out- This is an extract from memoires in his later years when he lived in semi-retirement in Liverpool, England- Lynx]