So, I mentioned the other day that I bought a couple of Moleskines at the LA Times Festival of Books, and now they're coming out of the woodwork. A fellow writer has stacks of them already and carries two sizes with her at all times.
I've been carrying mine around for a couple of days and haven't yet been possessed to write in it.
Here's a cool Moleskine blog I found.
Spent Sunday wandering the aisles of the LA Times Festival of Books at UCLA. Unbelievably hot and sweaty, but tons going on. I only went to one panel, Bruce Wagner
and William Gibson
talking about Hollywood in the 21st Centry. Gibson seemed like a very nice absent-minded professor, but Wagner was fricking brilliant, as I expected the author of Force Majeure to be.
They also had these wicked neat notebooks for sale called Moleskines. Evidently, everyone from Matisse to Bruce Chatwin couldn't live without them. I bought one with graph paper in it for June's garden sketches.
Now, the oddest thing I noticed was the fact that the Jews for Jesus had descended on the place to proselytize. Tons of folks who looked like my people (typical Ashkenazic Jewish features, hair, etc.) but with the vapid smiles of the recently converted. I just wanted get right up in their faces and shout IFYOU'REAJEWFORJESUSTHENYOU'REACHRISTIANDEALWITHIT! Maybe if they keep Jew in their organization's name it helps them recruit. Either that or they don't offend their grandmas that way. Sheesh.
Maybe it has to do with turning 40 last week, but this one struck home. It's David Sedaris, talking to a graduating class at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago (and quoted in James McManus' great poker and murder book Positively Fifth Street):
"There is no escaping the people who love you, especially not today. Their gift is wrapped in a complex, difficult paper and tied with a ribbon five miles longer than your patience. When you open the package, remember to look surprised and behave with grace, as theirs is the gift that brought you here and will accompany you, kicking and screaming, to whatever future awaits you."
Quite honestly, 40 seemed so fricking far away, even 5 years ago that it was a safe target on which to load my schemes, plans, hopes and anxieties.
But now it's here. What the hell do I do now?
Michael has this bit on caffeine on his blog and it's got me thinking that might be the reason I've been such a frickin' asshole lately.
I'm officially cutting down.
And if that doesn't fix me, I don't know what will.