I made an important purchase today: a Molskine notebook. I hope to bring a laptop along on my trip, but even if I do get it together to buy one before I leave, I still want a notebook for jotting things down old-school style. And for scribbling on trains and on hostel bunks, I just love these pretentious little things beyond all reason. They have a secret pocket inside that’s perfect for business cards, ticket stubs, and other little souvenirs. They come with a bungee cord that holds them shut. (So they don’t accidentally deploy at high velocity? I’m not sure. But it’s great.) I love that they’re ruled. I love that they fit in a pocket. They come with packaging that calls them the “notebook of Hemingway, Picasso, and Chatwin,” and I love that, too. Even though I’m not positive I know which Chatwin they’re talking about, and I never knew Picasso wrote at all.
I will try to save the notebook until my departure, but I may not be able to resist going to a café, ordering a fussy drink (perhaps in French), and scrawling intensely until someone mistakes me for a mysterious woman.
(And if you should accidentally walk into the same café while I’m doing this, it’s okay; you can pretend you don’t know me.)
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