I love notebooks and notepads.  I have Moleskines (some real, many fakes) in every vehicle and jacket pocket.  My mother-in-law staples sheets of scrap paper together at the top and keeps them by her phone. I love that too.  To me a notebook is a place where that novel I’ve been meaning to write will finally take shape.  It’s a place where those song lyrics (She had hair the colour of ketchup chips and a Celtic knot from hip to hip…) that bounce around in my head will become more than just an idea, they’ll be real song lyrics because they’ve been committed to paper.

When you buy a notebook and stick it in your pocket or purse you’re sending a signal to your brain that says, “I’m a writer now–let’s get to work–I’m open to ideas.”  It’s sort of like buying yoga pants because, well, everyone knows you can’t become a yoga enthusiast without the pants.  Actually, that’s a horrible analogy because if everyone in yoga pants was actually doing yoga there would be no one at this Walmart.

Anyway, Santa slipped this one into my Christmas stocking this year.  I’m going to fill it with song lyrics and thoughts on music.  My first musical thought of 2012: Can a guy my age wear Dr. Dre Studio Beats without looking like a complete douche bag?  (I got those for Christmas too.)  Discuss.

Garn