Monday, October 16, 2006


I am addicted to buying and writing in journals. I have quite a few of them, although there is not much order in the sense of either time or subject matter. So it would be difficult to move from one year to the next in chronological order. They avail them selves to randomness.

There are lots of things to write about: Observations, opinions, lyrics, poetry, doodles, web sites to visit, books to read, ideas, movies to see, pasted pictures, subjects to research, thoughts, CDs to buy, blah blah blah.

Sometimes I buy one and before I finish filling all the pages I buy another one and start writing in it. So I end up writing in all of them. A little here a little there.

When I die I imagine that my children will find them and wonder what to do with them. Maybe they will read them or maybe they will throw them out. Maybe I will be famous and a historical researcher with a Ph.D. will scour them for hints of the cause of my insanity.

I am partial to Moleskin journals and also to graph paper. It is difficult for me to walk out of the store without one if they find me. I love just holding them.