My previous post on canceling my Netflix disk shipments has collided with the reality of the oddness of my tastes. I have suddenly decided I want to watch gorgeous black and white noir, and the Netflix streaming catalog is not really up to it—though I did do a nice impromptu John Huston marathon last weekend. However, I work for a library at a university with a film program, so my office is well-stocked with outmoded formats.
MPOW is getting ready to replace the carpet in the office I share with two dozen people, so we’re all temporarily packing up our desks. Some of my colleagues have twenty years’ worth of paper records (we’re a library, so for some it’s journal literature and for others it’s order forms and vendor records), but I’ve kept my cubicle fairly minimal because I find that I can’t concentrate if my desk isn’t mostly clear. I’d rather keep old memos on my computer anyway. But while clearing out the drawers I found the true expression of my obsession: partially-filled notebooks of every description, size, and style. Three kinds of steno pads, legal and graph-ruled writing pads, tiny jotter notebooks, three Moleskiné-style things in two varieties, a few 3 x 5’s, a pile of notecards. About two years of business notes scattered through all of them, filling most of a standard-sized paper box. I am oddly delighted by this.