Every notebook needs a home.
Every notebook needs a home.
Every notebook needs a home. Every notebook has a home. Every notebook thinks every other notebook can take every other home and go home.
A week ago (I think, two maybe) I flew from New York to San Francisco and left my notebook in the AirTran. As I entered my gate, I realized it was gone, and I could either run back and get it and miss my flight, or I could let it go.
I chose to let it go. I chose to let it go. I said, you know, fuck it, you know. I said, you know, forget it, it was a Molskine anyways, and I’d been wanting it to get filled for months because I hate Moleskines and I have this amazing Quattro reporter’s notebook waiting to begin. I said, you know, fuck it, you know, just, you know, just, everything in it was nothing, everything in it was the thing that nobody wanted to know in the first place, so everything in it was something but nothing.
That was an interesting plane ride. I was kinda sorta having a moment, I think maybe.
When I landed, I had a message from a nice New Yorker who had found my notebook, and a few days later it was in my mailbox.
I am kind of upset to have it back because there is a certain freedom in loss, you know, a real freedom, and it is so easy to reach back into the past, but when I lost my notebook I was realizing I had to reach into the now for things. It was all new. And I am thinking more about it, and when I write into the past I convince myself that I will never write into the now again, I do that all the time, but losing the past is the now.
I often daydream about finding someone else’s notebook, and stealing all her or his secrets, and turning them into things. Into projects. Is it weird that my most recurring fantasy is of finding someone else’s notebook? Just a little, just a little.
Comments are closed.
i feel the same way, i mean about loss, when i lose files of stories, or accidentally delete them, or whatever. it is freeing not to have that draft holding onto me. ive accidentally saved an old version as the new version before, and after being mad/annoyed, i calm down and jus go on.
weird about your moleskine coming back.
once i left my wallet at a kayaking shop on the hiwassee river. someone mailed it back to me a few days later. it was neat.
Yeah, losing your writing, I think, in itself, is a very interesting thing. It’s sort of a constraint that often produces amazing things.
Can’t believe I got the notebook back. Sending her signed copy of my book. She even refused the promised $80 finder’s fee! (I’d have taken it if I were her) Speaking of finder’s fee… Curb Your Enthusiasm.
is that the same notebook i had harboured for you b/c you had misplaced it before? that moleskine is going to have some sort of daddy issues.