IS THIS AN INK PEN I SEE BEFORE ME, THE HANDLE TOWARD MY HAND?

Dizzy with the fresh oxygen of a perfect Spring day, I pulled out an actual in-the-flesh sketchbook, and then ransacked my drawers searching for that slender instrument which has provided me so much pleasure in the past. With it firmly in my grasp, I burst out the front door and announced to the heedless world that ancient analog Walt was back among the living, ready to kick ass and take names, although to be honest, I could do without the taking names part, and I'm not sure I'm up to the kicking ass part unless I see someone older than me shuffling down the street. So long story short, I saw this brush and drew it.