The Little Blue Notebook

Thursday 12:45pm, August 18^th, 2016, Somewhere in the West of Ireland

Dear Reader,

Once again, my bafflement of thoughts comes to you at the later time of… not exactly a week after the last one. Once again, I am without wi-fi, but having said that, it’s not a complaint.

     Of course the internet is always so helpful but sometimes it’s good to be without wi-fi, and it’s healthy not to feel a responsibility towards being connected to everyone at all times. (A certain Italian hit from the summer entitled ‘Vorrei ma non posto’ would perfectly describe my social media detox, because actually watching the sun set is far more pleasant than taking a second-rate fuzzy version of it on a camera phone)

     Being without wi-fi has helped me rediscover my travelling companion, i.e my little blue notebook, where I write with an actual pen rather than the keyboard. I cherish these moments of reflection, even if the pen, inconveniently, has a mind of its own sometimes.

     

I wrote a poem in the little blue notebook recently while I was on a flight to Edinburgh. It seemed to be written in five minutes as Ireland and Scotland are so close together; so when the tea trolley came around, it was almost simultaneously taken back for landing, and I realised that my scrawl had turned into a poem.

     The little blue notebook walked alongside me in Edinburgh, when I marvelled at the castle; imagining feasts in the great hall and listening out for Italian and French tourists to see if I could understand their wonderings. It seemed the perfect city to write in, as if I’d go to live there some time, working on a project of mine.

     Possession of the little blue notebook (or little black notebook, or little notebook of any colour) is the oldest advice any writer could give to another. Ah, but there’s a reason why it’s been repeated for such a long time. It really works. It exists for the people who want to brainstorm, but don’t yet want the pressure of a blank Microsoft Word document gawking at them from behind a screen.

That said, the scribblings of the little blue notebook can eventually lead to marvels. It exists too for the people like myself who always say to themselves: Oh what a nice thought, I must remember it for later or Oh what a cool dream I’ll have to write it down later.

But then we don’t write it down

and we regret it so much,

so that’s why the little blue notebook is essential, especially when ambling down the sun-split cobblestone streets of Old Town in beautiful Edinburgh.

I like to categorize the contents of my personal blue notebook in six ways: General Nonsense, Words of Merit, Poetry, Anecdotes & Memorable Quotes, Thoughts from Places, and Notes from Friends.

1) General Nonsense

It varies.

The best way for me to keep in touch with my good friend Éamonn is to send him a message whenever I wake up from a strange dream, and then we analyse the dream together. The same goes for when he has a weird dream.

Sometimes I’m so fascinated by the dream that I must write it down, along with the analysis, in the little blue notebook.

This section of the little blue notebook can also include penny droplets of random thoughts shot directly from the sky; Those odd little ponderings that only a pen to paper could make sense of, like that time I referred to myself as a camel zombie at Paris Orly Airport. I was exhausted after travelling, and I really wanted to know what a camel zombie would look like.

2) Words of Merit

I want to wrap myself in these words that tease my tongue with hazelnut tastes.

I write down the new words, and the old words I’ve forgotten.

I write down the vocabulary from other languages I want to learn.

I write and I think

that the best way to define a writer, is as a collector of words.

3) Poetry

The Poetry section includes what you would expect it to.

Poems.

Sentences that appeal to the ear.

The clapping rhythm of a train or the roaring crescendo of an airplane often acts as the ostinato to the poetry of my little blue notebook.

Sometimes it begins with only one word, not necessarily written down to spark a poem,

but then the sparks fly,

and before I know it I am in Edinburgh, with words written by the dozen.

4) Anecdotes & Memorable Quotes

Sometimes I look at my friends and question why they don’t have their own stand-up comedy shows because some of the things they say are timeless.

Or sometimes there are those overheard conversations; Snippets of a stranger’s life that make you envision their whole lives and what they must be like as people (like the legendary French lady outside Edinburgh castle who announced proudly to the whole group that she had just gone for a pee)

5) Thoughts from Places

This is possibly my favourite section, because I find it so hard to write about a place if I have never been there; whether it be for a memoir or short story.

And then here is my little blue notebook, with settings saved from Piedmont to Marakesh, ready to meet their protagonists, and ready for me to feel like I’m there again; gushing over the stunning landscapes.

6) Notes from Friends

This section is always full of surprises and unique scripts – those loving messages from the past that make me smile nostalgically and thank the stars that I have such kind friends that transform cities into different towns, just by being in them.

I wrap myself in their words,

their perspectives,

and think about how interesting it is that no one ever reads the same book or sees the same city, because we all see them in different ways,

and it’s afterwards that we share our stories.

*The little blue notebook knows all of this;

my slender,

rectangular writing quarters.

*No wi-fi required.

Ciao,

Madame Mayreed x

*

Edinburgh

Edin-burr-o

Edin-burr-a

Edin-burg.

How funny my

face must look,

when I play

with sounds.

Or the Italian words

that end in O’s

and A’s.

Cast-ell-o

Ang-ur-ia

For-mag-io

Hazelnut vowels

teasing my tongue

-          -  I want to

wrap myself

in these words.

And listen

to their gentle waves

when I

can’t fall asleep.

I’ll stay warm

in winter,

and shield myself

from a book of

faces,

at times when I

don’t feel so

social.

I’ll crave only

the company of

my cat,

so that,

I can wrap myself

in her purrs,

collecting words

at every stroke

of my fingertips.