It seems like a book with a cover of multi-colored hearts requires I need an odd-colored pen -- all pretty and foofy to start journaling by hand again.

A purple pen to go with my purple bookmark and all of those hearts.

Purple -- a color of passion, sex and exoticisms. It seems like a good pallette to dabble in, at first. Deep purple of morning glories is sexual -- following a cycle of seasons, clinging to a lattice of metal or wood -- it's clinging is sexual the way a drop of sperm clins to a penis as it begins to deflate after ejaculation.

Pale lavendar -- is the prissy color of new babies and the slick of afterbirth left behind cows in spring fields waiting for the claws of raptors feeding their young. It's the color of lilac blossoms and the way you teach little children to use them as soap in giggles and bubbles.

Dark violet with spots of sage green and light purple are the colors of crushed lavendar blossoms and my fingers. I always pull a couple off bushes as I walk and forget to empty my pockets and my fingers would make some stuffy old English lady happy.