Today I was surprised with a marvellous surprise present. A “Music Journal”, made by the ever-desirable book object people, Moleskine, from the ever-desirable affection object person, J.

Music Journal

The marvellous artefact has pockets and stickers and tabs – oh my! – and space to write music, do playlists, “music maps” for non-listy moments and, oh, all sorts. New notebook excitement! I actually did a little dance when presented with it.

Of course, I am not in the slightest bit getting paid by Moleskine for this gush, although if they want to send any freebies my way I will happily witter all day about their erotically fine acid-free paper products. However, I was quite tickled by the supporting bumph on their website, so here – gratis, Sr. Moleskine, note ye well – is a Moleskine ad jingle:

Yeah, but can it cook? I mean, just to sound a note of realism – HA! SOUND A NOTE – and grateful excitement at the ace pressie aside for a sec, I remain unconvinced by the bland marketoid assertions about ‘contemporary nomads’ in the packaging, particularly with how connected to a digital lifestyle these delovely pre-hacked notebooks are. Compatible, yes… yet there are no USB ports, you can’t actually play a CD in it… and this is all kind of the point. I’ve said it before, I dig the internets, but increasingly as part of one’s complete experience of whatever we’re calling reality at whatever we’re calling this time. It’s nice to not be joined up/switched on so much.

Why, I feel a lashing-rain-forecast, weekend-fast-approaching, brand-new-book-to-baptise playlist coming on. I shall compose one and get back to you directly.