This is my pen.
The Pentel BL437R1 — otherwise known as the “Kuro.” It comes in many colours. Different flavours of that liquid-smooth, ultra-pigmented Pentel EnerGel ink. I write with black. 0.7mm tip.
I’ve tested many pens over the years. From many reliable makers. Pentel. Zebra. Muji. Pilot. Uniball. Most of them Japanese.
But for some reason, I always come back to this one.
Discovery
I discovered it by accident. I was traveling in the U.S. and wandered into a Target (we don’t have those in Canada anymore). Naturally, I made a beeline for the stationery section. There, I spotted a 4-pack of these blackened pens — sleek, simple, around a dollar each.
I picked them up. Tried one out. And I’ve never looked back.
Feel
What I like most is the feel.
The barrel has a soft, grippy texture — kind of like a silicone phone case. But it’s not just at the grip. It covers the entire pen, front to back. Same diameter all the way through. No ridges. No bulk. Just smooth, steady control.
It’s like a traditional pen grip extended across the full body — letting me hold it wherever I want, depending on how I’m writing or drawing.
Reliable
It’s reliable, too.
Some of the Kuros in my collection are several years old. I know because I started dating them (more on that later).
And the only time one’s ever broken is when I broke it. On purpose. I’ve sawed the end off to see if I could shorten it. Glued two cut pieces together to prototype something else. Bent one in half just to see how much tension the barrel could bear.
At most? The clip snaps off.
But the barrel, the click mechanism — they’ve never failed me.
Available
Another thing I love: it’s cheap. And easy to find.
That means I don’t have to be precious with it. I could lose it and just buy another (though I never do). I can buy a dozen and give them away. Which I have. Many times.
It’s the kind of thing I can recommend to anyone, without hesitation. A solid, $1 pen that punches way above its weight.
Customize
Of course, none of my Kuros stay factory stock for long.
Each one goes through a ritual of customization. It’s how I make them mine.
Step one: I remove the gold ring that sits at the tip. It serves no purpose. Just gets in the way when changing cartridges. Plus, it ruins the all-black look.
Step two: I peel off the barcode sticker. Sometimes it leaves behind goop. Nothing a thumb and some patience can’t rub off.
Step three: I decorate. Here’s what I use:
- Pro-Gaff 1” fluorescent pink gaff tape
- Pentel Presto! correction pen
- Any black felt-tip marker (Sharpie’s work great)
- Sharpie oil-based paint pen, black, medium
I start by blacking out the Pentel logo on the clip.
Then I add a white dot where a few plastic mold lines intersect — no practical reason. I just like the pop.
And finally, the tape.
All my gear is marked with pink tape. The Kuro is no exception. I rip a 1.5” strip of fluorescent pink gaff. Then I split it lengthwise and wrap one half just beneath the clip.
The last thing I do? I put a date it.
I didn’t always do this. But I wish I had. Now, every time I pick up a pen marked 2022.02.26 or something like it, I remember when I customized it. I wonder how many pages it’s written. How many thoughts it’s captured. How far it’s come.
And with that — the Kuro is ready.
Debranded. Blackened. Dotted. Pinked. Mine.
Spirited
All of this — for a $1 pen?
I know. It seems unnecessary. But that’s kinda the point. This is how I make something ordinary mine. It’s how I integrate a tool I use every day into my world.
The pen itself isn’t special. The pen doesn’t get special treatment. It becomes special through treatment.
And I think others can feel it too. When they receive one at some meetup. When they pull a pen from their pencil case or stationery drawer. They notice the pink tape. They notice the date. They see the Sharpie-blackened clip — weathered and patina'ed.
This whole ritual is an homage to Van Neistat. Years ago, he shared a story about his Pentel pencil. A story that inspired me to see and respect everyday tools in richer ways.