Being glared at by these, neat, tidy Moleskine journals whilst visiting a bookstore is intimidating.
They’re just too cool for school. And now they come in all colours of the rainbow. Reaching to touch them, they ooze a tactile temperament as if to say ‘yes indeed, I am irresistible to touch, the likes of my pages are only ever caressed, by the most elite of writers’. Articulate types, possible academics, who delight in stationary shopping once a month. These Moleskin foe would also have a special writing pen and cherish their neatly scribed ownership within the top right hand corner of the first page, if not on a separate label. These would be the right owners of such Moleskins. And they deserve to be. They would look after it, and it’s worth. Maybe, as with dogs and their owners, could Moleskin’s reflect similar characteristics to that of their possessor? I’d like to imagine a simple, sandy cargo pant, boot-cut and slightly cuffed, a minimal navy canvas shoe, all sporting an encumbered stride, enough to support the writers clearly observant nature.
Holding it, I couldn’t help but wonder if I would write better or worse. Making a mistake would defiantly convert me to Guiltism. Where mistakes before, merely a gateway to possibility, would now not be that. No more a gateway to possibility than something else I cannot be bothered creating a metaphor for.
My current on-hand notebook is an absolute trash bag of a whore. She’s always semi open, pages crushed amongst sand from last years beach visit, and a few dirty coins. I feel sorry for her, for treating her with such disrespect. Pages utilized over and over again, filling her to the brim. Stressing that I couldn’t find a page to write the name of the Thai shop phone number quick enough, that exquisite word I noticed on that advertisement banner, or jot the dialogue of the guy pinching a chicks arse murmuring ‘at least well be in bed by 11‘, along side a personal judgement of yuck!
Trying something new. The Lolskine.
Not only is this Lolskine doused in my favourite January colour which seems to be swiftly jet setting its way into February, it was also reduced to $1.00. An absolute lol in itself. I felt completely at ease with this journal, and thought it’s pages will provide my writing with an extra serving of necessary humour. Utilizing lol for what it really means, and not just adding it on the end of a ‘I’m going to the shops, do you need anything lol’.
I believe people these days have mistaken the acronym lol for a full stop. Making everything sound light-hearted, unsure, senseless and well just bloody stupid. lol.