The newest acquisition that will simplify my life is a back-pocket-sized journal called a Moleskine. All of the cool kids in New Mexico had them, shaped like their ass and bursting with beauty. It’s just the thing that will inspire and collect oodles of imaginative introspections as I stride confidently through life. This, I believe, with my whole heart.
At the open-mic pseudo poetry slam, prophets spit out verse that was embedded in these mysterious black books with the elastic closure. Less cool cats printed out poems, and I was forced into the ultimate indignity: holding up my (formerly hip) laptop to offer my meager contribution. Which was just embarrassing. An uncool poet (no matter how poseur) is a contradiction in terms.
I successfully held off this first wave of acquisitiveness, until I was privy to the actual, physical embodiment of Paul’s Lenten Moleskine. The colors were even more vivid than they are online, and my eyes are still vibrating from the encounter. There must be some magic here; magic that even a kid from Iowa can access.
So, though I recently replaced my overburdened wallet to streamline my existence, I think I’m unavoidably sliding down the slippery slope toward Moleskine-dom.
Posted in: Moleskine