It’s four years ago, see, that I began my first Moleskine. I’d begun filling a small notebook two months before, on the day that the seniors the year before us graduated. That one thin notebook now precedes nine identical notebooks that I’ve filled, writing every day since that first sort-of first day of senior year of high school. I’m on Number Eleven now, and beginning first day of senior year of college.
Right now I’m too sleepy to think of much to say, but: hello.
One day, someday, I may do work that’s not last-minute and caffeine-fueled. Not today!!!
Nowadays everyone must love (or at least pretend to love) pleasures that were supposedly once disdained or taken for granted: dive bars, street food, trashy films. But knowing, sophisticated attempts to replicate those things often traffic in their own kind of snobbery, confusing condescension with authenticity.
A. O. Scott, “Someone Done Her Wrong. Horrible Mistake.” in the New York Times. See also “The Strange Ascent of ‘Strained Pulp.’”
Food for thought.