I collect fragments of this, that and the other. Quotes, lines, ideas, thoughts. I used to write them down on assorted pieces of paper, and post-it notes, which got lost, and later found when I took out my battered vacuum cleaner from under the stairs.
I collect fragments, and have recently attempted to note them all in an oracle. Namely a collection of battered moleskin books, like the sort you can get from Waterstones. I started with a red book, and now am working my way through assorted shades of green. Red remains my favorite. There’s an urgency about it. That book became a backbone in my life.
The books are slightly curved when placed on a flat surface, like a 1950′s coffee table, which I once carried all the way from Exeter to Plymouth. The curve is due to the flat that they live in my back pocket, and have been subjected to ‘arse impact’.
The books also contain potential sources of conversation. This is due to my poor recall, which has gotten progressively worse, or more sustained over the last few years. Forgetting what it is I want to talk about during a conversation is absolutely crippling, and frustrating. I am sick of it.
I have absolutely no idea what to do with these fragments. I lack the confidence and, indeed patience to write lots of words, and engage in intellectual debate. I enjoy anecdotes. Sometimes I read your words and go blank. I like this.
I want to write some anecdotes on blank post cards and post them through a door or two at some point in the future.
One will be from Rotterdam.
One will be from Amsterdam.
One will be from Berlin.
One will be from Paris.
Oh yeah, and one from Plymouth Hoe. But none from Liverpool or Rome.
Where can I get some decent blank postcards? I went to Wilkinson’s this morning, and they were rubbish.