Just what the heck is a Moleskine, anyway?

Wannabe writers, rejoice. The ultimate "look at me, I'm a writer!" status symbol is now available at your local Barnes & Noble. That's right... Simply sit down at your favorite coffee house with a piping hot cappuccino (it must be in a ceramic mug, not one of those environment-destroying paper cups with the 10% post-consumer recycled thermal sleeves) and whip out your Moleskine, and you will soon find yourself in the enviable position of having to fight off throngs of crazed women-folk. But what the heck is a Moleskine, you ask, and what is this mysterious power it possesses? Both excellent questions, my friends.

A Moleskine (pronounced mol-a-skeen'-a, but if you actually pronounce it that way in America, you're likely to get the tar beaten out of you by a true red-blooded American male, and rightfully so) is a notebook. But it's not just any notebook. It's a special notebook: one which possesses the miraculous ability to attract the ladies. According to the official Moleskine website, it is "the legendary notebook of Hemingway, Picasso, and Chatwin."

All pretentiousness aside, it is a high quality notebook (and sketchbook) available in various sizes and formats. It is available in both pocket and large sizes, and with plain, lined, and graph style pages. Its most identifiable features are the oilskin covers, ribbon marker, and elastic band (to hold it closed). It is also highly prized for its ability to lay totally flat when opened up, something very few notebooks these days are able to claim. They do seem to have developed something of a crazed cult following, and how much of this is related to the ingenious marketing campaign developed by Italian manufacturer Moda e Moda is up for debate.

Regardless of which long deceased writers and painters may or may not have used some iteration of this notebook, there are a handful of still living celebrities who give this little notebook their stamp of approval, including comic fanboy favorite Neil Gaiman (check out his post for Sunday, September 23, 2001).

There is a certain mystique to this handy little notebook. It won't make you a better writer, but it does have a certain inspirational quality to it. Just having one open in front of me makes me want to start writing. Sometimes I start writing and quickly regret having done so. But every once in a while, when the mood and the inspiration hits me just right, I end up with something worth keeping. Occasionally, it's even worth sharing.

For the record, I carry one of the pocket sized lined Moleskines with me just about everywhere I go. Most, if not all, of my blog musings (both here and on my personal blog) have had their origins in one of these notebooks. Because inspiration rarely hits me when I'm sitting on my butt in front of my computer. It usually strikes when (and where) I least expect it.

Plus the chicks dig it.

Cry Freedom!

While people in Taiwan and Darfur are still living difficult lives without some of their most basic rights as human beings, I'm experiencing a bit of the pain here on my side of the pond. My liberties are threatened by a political sandstorm, and I'm beginning to fear that my future will soon look as bleak as that of my brothers and sisters in South Africa.

I refer, of course, to the Hollywood writers' strike which has darkened the halls of the Ed Sullivan theatre (where Letterman's late night is taped), cut off my supply of Stephen Colbert, and seeks to stop new episode airings of "Chuck" as soon as December.

I really don't have a side in this squabble except for my own. Lost in the great debate on Capitol Hill about national health insurance, is the fact that millions are still uninsured (and in poor health) while the policy fight is going forth. So is the case here. Who's looking out for my best interests, while the two sides are deciding (or currently, not deciding) how to split their billions?

Some out there are saying, "Look, how hard can it really be to script a television show?", and in response I only need point in the direction of Bionic Woman. It is a rare gift exhibited by those in the WGA (Writer's Guild of America), and we should not expect to have any sort of meaningful existence until this dispute is resolved. For America, Hollywood! For America, WGA! Cease this bloodletting!

Sidenote: Another consequence of this great disaster will be a sharp increase in reality programming, the longer the strike goes on. Apparently "writers" aren't needed to film a strong reality show (that phrase seems like a contradiction in terms), so the networks are upping the orders for more unscripted, boring-as-hell reality drivel.