Little Black Books

So, I was at the book store, looking through the Classics section, and generally enjoying my Sunday. And I went up to the counter with my intended purchases (which is generally my way, as I am not a dirty common thief, and so I often pay for both goods and services) and what did I see but a three pack of those little Moleskin notebooks. You know the ones at the front counter of book shops that advertise themselves as the note book Hemingway or Picasso or Chopin or some other suitably fashionable artiste of old used. Well, I am a forgetful sort and often have good ideas, or just remember I want to see a certain movie, whilst on a constitutional--or just out walking, depending on the weight of the moment--and I thought that this would be a useful investment. But now I almost don't want to use them because I have this image in my head of kids in army surplus jackets smoking clove cigarettes on the grass at Sarah Lawrence writing in their moleskins about infinite loss or the tragedy of Emily Dickenson's life. You get the idea. So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to make little notes when they pop into my head as I read my snooty books, and I will try my best not to seem like Rob Lowe's character in St. Elmo's Fire. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, well then, you need to get to the video store and check it out, ASAP).