The Quest Continues

No longer for perfection, but for the one, the fittest.

Not the grandest, the strongest or the like. The one most suited to me, which fits me the best of all.

A bit Darwinian, a process of natural selection?

Who is selecting whom, me or the notebook?

It comes down to sensing the aura, the Zen of the book

Taking the Zen thing a bit further, it's not how do you feel about the book, how does the book feel about you?

It's the strange feeling, the sensation of losing touch with something.

Pick the book, whatever it is, take it down from the shelf. You sense something, a sympathetic resonance perhaps? You replace the book on the shelf and continue browsing, and end up where you started with the first book you lifted from the shelf.

You take it to the till, pay the cashier, and away you go. The book arrives home and its not the same, strange but it happens.

I remarked in an earlier post about my first encounter with the Moleskine brand and how I felt it necessary to find the right instrument to make the first mark.

I admit, I fell for the romance of the history described in the pamphlet that comes with each one. I bought the book and the story and it took me a while to get over it.

It was the day my brain clicked into gear and did the arithmetic. I checked the figures. Page for page the three pack of the pocket sized cahiers with the soft cover was equal to a hardcover notebook of the same size, and roughly half the price.

I made the switch and awaited an introduction to the Fauxdori, the Traveler's notebook lookalikes.

That introduction stared a whole new journey that brought me to here, now.

An odd side effect has been to bring to mind all the different notebooks I've used over the years, and decades and attempts at homemade notebooks.

Armed with a printer, photographs and a comb binder, assorted papers and a laminator. The research, documents downloaded and printed out would be comb bound for future reference.

Now I'm on the handmade notebooks, cut and trimmed to size and bound by a pamphlet stitch. A new expression of life with a notebook, springing from a superbly matched surprise gift. The Fittest gift I've received in a long time.

Christmas is around the corner, and this year there is a sense of anticipation of what it will bring.

Only a few more sleeps and we've notched up snow already this month. The bookies adjusted the odds for a white one.

Let the dreaming begin!

Martyn

(Image, December 2010)

Under the skin

No pun intended, but the idea of the Midori, Traveller's notebook or whatever brand name your variant may, or may not have, it strikes me that is what this item does. It gets under your skin.

I've found the concept and the way so many users employ it to facilitate their own personalities, fascinating. 

The number of pins dotted around Pinterest offering downloadable formats for the inserts, and the production lines feeding the internet stores and Etsy will easily pass an hour while the tea goes cold in the mug.

It creates a discussion inside my head.

The old habit of carrying multiple notebooks is hard to break, and the reality of multiple books inside one cover is equally hard to establish.

Not one book, books with paper layouts specific to a role, or task.

Plain, lined(ruled), grid, dots, storyboards, musical staves, the list is bounded by the imagination.

Sketchpad, story board, planner, diary, bullet journal - the list is comprehensive. If you are inclined to make your own, incompetech.com has a variety of downloadable formats. 

The result is a pleasantly tactile, versatile tool.

A tug of war ensues, the notebook on the desk says, pick me up, write, you know you want to, and it's true, even when the idea isn't there. 

An endless notebook, a literary suitcase, when the pages are full, at journey's end?

The inserts are unpacked, and fresh ones are stowed for the next stage of the jounrey. 

The previous inserts are tucked away, not sent to the laundry - hopefully!

A reversal of the previous reticence to plunge into a new volume. A pamphlet stitched signature drawing you under the covers. 

The package exerts an intimacy, the individuality of each one, shunning the regimented uniformity of staples. The way the elastic cords, the bands, hold the notebook inserts into the cover, and each, other is quirky. Not precise, they snuggle together under the covers.

This quiet intimacy creates the connection, and is self reinforcing. The more contact you have, the stronger the hold and the pull becomes.

It has gravity,  The evidence of its experience is on the cover, as we wear the traces of our own, and reveals the character of the notebook itself. You wouldn't be surprised to see Indiana Jones draw one from his pocket, and all eyes are on the book.

Who wouldn't like that notebook?

Martyn