Friday, May 23, 2008

In Memorium

In memory of my latest Moleskine, which has taken a back seat to this budding blog, I have transcribed an old leather-bound entry today. Actually, I'm just lazy because it's a holiday weekend.

"I was pondering writing last night and my mind was creating some incredible prose despite the lack of a writing implement or substrate in any tangible form. I thought about how I love to compose, and even though I can do so in my head quite successfully sometimes -- I've written many an essay in the shower on the morning it was due -- it does not provide the same satisfaction for me as physically recording the thoughts, either for posterity or for my own future embarrassment.

"I like to look back at the words as I write them, and get instantly inspired by the flow before the ink has even dried. One can only hold so many thoughts at once, especially if one wishes to lay them out and look at them. The paper looks back, but the active mind with no page to sully does not look back on itself, at least not efficiently.

"My airport writing is my best. I care not to speculate on why. It just is. I don't say much with the words I pen at airports, but I always manage to manipulate the language in new ways (new to me) and find the energy at a steady flow.

"A film-maker friend of mine carries his Moleskine everywhere. He stops mid-sentence to record thoughts that hit him like mosquito bites. Instead of slapping himself, his hand slaps down on the leather journal, waiting on the bar or the dinner table for its owner to get bit. Do the thoughts have to do with the conversation? Or are they just intruding, unrelated thoughts about his work or about life? Is he thinking about his words tucked away in the journal while pretending to have a conversation?

"As a woman I don't know if the Moleskine and I could have such an exclusive relationship. A certain amount of cordiality is expected of me in social settings. Young, dark men with wild hair and wilder eyes are expected to punctuate their social outings with creative burps. I feel I am not allowed such a public display of indulgence. The Moleskine and I will keep our private lives private. But I still like being seen with it."

--from the archives, sometime in 2006

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