I love my Moleskine.
I have lots of them.
In several colors.
In various sizes.
They are a bit pricey, so I also have other journals/notebooks that are much like the Moleskine. I like them, too. But I like to say, “Moleskine.”
History says that Ernest Hemingway made the Moleskine famous, but I suspect that is more a romantic fable than truth. Truth is, these little books were readily available in Paris and were used by a number of people, both famous and not. The writers and artists loved them in particular because the paper was good quality and the size was right for travel.
The more popular they became, the more the small Parisian company could not keep up with demand. As it goes so often, the small Paris shop stopped making the Moleskine. Ten years later,
an Italian company brought them back to life. Most are now “Made in China”, so the romance is lost for me.
However, the love affair continues. There are hundreds of photos of people’s Moleskine pages on the internet. I have posted several of them here. They are proud of their musings, drawings, reflections, quotes, stories, scribblings, poems. You can find almost every conceivable physical manifestation of thought and imagination. I, too have taken photos of a couple of my pages, to show to you, of course.
I have another smaller book for a daily Haiku that I write.
Why do I write these?
I like drumming my fingers
To make sure it’s right.
I have another containing Life Lessons According to Carmen.
Example: #2 Never use the bathroom stall with the plunger in it. 12-16-07
I misplaced the Haiku notebook and, in looking for it, I found more Moleskine books scattered throughout the house: one with grocery lists, one with books to find on my next visit to the library, one with a list of books that I want to read and why I want to read them, a list of food that I ate when I was tracking my calories/fat/protein…
All-in-all, they fill some sort of need that I have. A need to put pen to paper. A need to make lists, draw pictures, see my thoughts rather than just feel them.