Stupid, stupid, stupid...If you’re anything like me (and the very thought of anyone out there that is should be enough to make one shudder), you almost always have a notebook somewhere near your person. Either a notebook, a journal-like item, or at the very least a notebook app on whatever mobile device of your personal choosing.

I’m always thinking of stuff that should be at least jot down in one form or another. Maybe not something that I’d want to share with the masses on the interwebs, necessarily. More as a purging, from my brain to the page. I usually save everything I’ve written down on the hard copy journal I have on my computer’s word processor (which is also a much-used prerequisite on every computer I’ve had in my possession through the years). You get the idea. Not so much an aspiring writer, as more of a person who HAS to write. It’s an urge. One of my tallents and callings, if you will. It’s just who I am.

And as such, I normally carry around something to write in, whenever the urge to purge hits. Normally. And one of my favorite places to have a notebook handy is at a cafe’, a sit-down restaurant, or the bar where the Coven of Exalted Geeks congregate every Thursday.

See, I like to arrive at said bar a couple of hours earlier than everyone else, loaded with a book, a notebook, and a writing utensil. Yeah, I like to call what you normal people refer to as “pens” and “pencils” as “writing utensils”. It further demonstrates my inherent weirdness. But anyway, usually I have all three along with, packed up in my man pur…er, um, my satchel (yes, my satchel). Sometimes with my Walkman, sometimes with the glorified PDA that is the secondhand iTouch that Brian gave me. But, always with the first three items. I will sit and read, write, and sip on my pitcher of Root Beer they provide there.

Tonight, however, I forgot to bring along a notebook.

This is, as one might put it, a bummer. I had at least two actual blog rants percolating up in my noggin. Still do. But, thinking I had a notebook packed in the satchel, not bothering to double check, I arrived at the bar, sat down in the reserved table, and discovered as I was unpacking that I was without a notebook. Nothing to jot down my thoughts, ideas and brain droppings.

I realize I could have used some of the bar napkins, but think about it: how many of those smaller squares of soft cloth-like paper would I have had to use? Scientifically speaking, several. When I start writing, I tend to keep going. Like right now. This is just an off-the-cuff mindless blog post of how the night has gone, and look how long it’s starting to get.

But, anyway, point is that I ended up reading mostly while waiting for the guys to show up. And there were several instances where I really could have used that notebook of mine.

Ah, well. Next time I’ll remember to double check.

::END TRANSMISSION::

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