Both of them use "Decomposition Books," something I'd never heard of until two years ago at a writing conference. They're basically your average composition notebook, but made out of recycled materials and printed in soy ink, gussied up with whimsical drawings. Some are spiral bound, others perfect bound. I had to buy one, of course, if I was going to hang with the cool kids.
That of course made me want to see if there was a design that I had to have. Until I realized that the notebook I bought two years ago remains empty. As do the several notebooks I bought in Italy this year. As do . . . oh, maybe a dozen more. (They're mostly not nearly as large as a composition book, so stop looking at me like that.)
(And in my defense, I got another Decomposition Book last year at a different writing conference, and I started using it forthwith, and it is now this far from being full—and I write small and on every part of every page.)
Yeah, I'm a notebook junkie. A pen junkie, too. And it's time I started writing more by hand, dammit. That would be a good segue for when this wretched blog comes to an end. Right?
|I might have to go with this one. Love that sloth!|