Humor
As Your New Notebook, I’m Thrilled to Be Here With Your Other Blank Notebooks
I just know we’re gonna be inseparable ❤
Oh boy! What an exciting opportunity! I’m so glad that you selected me, of all the notebooks at the stationary shop. Imagine, from all those choices: coil bound, hard-cover, lined, un-lined, you chose ME. A durable vinyl softcover Moleskine, in a limited edition Lorenzo Petrantoni theme. With meticulously rounded corners, might I add. I am going to do such a good job collecting your thoughts and feelings, planning your creative endeavors, helping you achieve your goals. We are going to have so much fun together every day. We will never be lonely again.
And look! There are all these other beautiful blank notebooks for me to share this drawer with. It’s just like being in the store; I really feel at home here. You have such good taste, so ambitious. Now that you’ve written your name and contact info on my liner, my ruled, acid-free pages are your oyster.
I can’t wait to be of service. I was just so EMPTY before we met. I finally feel like I belong. What are we going to tackle first? New screenplay? Next draft of the novel you’ve been working on? So inspiring. I am PUMPED. When do we start?
Oh look, you have so many gorgeous pens here too. It’s going to be so smooth when you start writing your socio-economic manifesto inside of me. Or in any of these other notebooks. You have so many! It’s almost intimidating. Needing all sorts of unfilled notebooks at the ready to record your genius ideas. That is why you have all of these, isn’t it? Like, what a cruel joke it would be if you bought all these unique and beautiful notebooks, with such potential, only to lay them to rest in some kind of bedside graveyard to gather dust. What kind of writer would do that to a quality paper product? To me?
Anyway, I am really truly grateful to be here in your drawer. And with such an industrious author and philosopher like you. I am so lucky; we are going to accomplish so much as you take note of your unique and witty observations. When you get to me. That won’t be long now, will it? I hope I don’t get filled up too fast; I want to be there to see your progress.
The anticipation is killing me. When do we work on your next poem? Not yet? I mean, fair enough. You can’t rush art. And yeah, I suppose you really should take care of that laundry first. Sure, of course you have to prep dinner. And go to bed early because you have to get to work in the morning. No worries. I’ll be here when you’re ready to go. After you finish that podcast series. And go for a jog.
Like, I get it, it’s not like I have gilded edges or anything but you know, I’m not picky. Like, maybe sometime you could just plan out your day, do a little journaling, maybe jot down some notes when you take a phone call. My margins are great for doodling in. Hell, I don’t mind if you rip off one of my corners to wad up some gum, tear a page out to give a cute barista your number. I’ve got 176 of them. Whatever works for you. I’m really flexible. And have inner pockets. You can put printouts of writing exercises in there or something. When you’re less busy of course. Or when you’re finished with this hardcover coil-bound you just put on top of me. I understand completely; you can’t play favourites.
Hey pal, where are you going? Off to research that short story you’re going to eventually outline? Get some inspiration from a walk through the park? Brainstorm with some friends at a café? Can I come too? Ok, cool, maybe another time. Write soon! Right?
