Marta Owczarek - We Like Notebooks

and writing in them.
it's funny quotes, things to remember, to-do lists, not-to-do lists,
expenses, vacation plans, phone numbers, maps,
cooking ideas that strike you in the middle of a stroll or on the bus,
song recommendations, notes (scribbles & musical), nonsense, party maths, poems from friends, everything. and things you glue in. not like tickets. more like stamps.
things you find in the street that are not 3d or squashable to two dimensions.
it's good phrases you hear around or come up with yourself, bits of coloured paper, little shiny things that come off swanky invitations, octopus phonebox images, reduced stickers from sainsbury's, post-it notes, concerts you want to see, cds you want to buy, shopping lists and travel dates. particularly attractive candy wrappings or postcards, if they fit in. bus or plane reservation numbers. addresses of places and people and how to get there. drawings made by kids you ran into in the street, places to visit and gift ideas. public transportation schemes and funny words in languages you don't know. occasionally pieces of genuine trash that get there by accident. sometimes dried discoloured flowers either placed there intentionally or fallen in by a similar only much more fortunate and pleasant accident. email addresses and things you meant to say to your friend when they just got on the bus that you feel are of urgent importance and then forget about them as soon as you have written them down. your friend's packing list for a trip that mocks your inability to travel light and lists a hundred pair of white sunglasses as essential travelling equipment.

stories you start to write.music you hear in your head.secret messages or perfectly public announcements people leave in your room. lists of things you borrowed and lists of things you lent. synonyms and euphemisms to remember, such as 'cold bitch' signifying 'fridge'. hilarious place names. indecipherable notes done in states of intoxication or rush. distances between towns. books you want to read and can't spell the author's name. playlists and doctor appointments. meeting hours and venues. attempted verbalizations of gestures you find potentially useful or just hilarious. post office opening hours. poems you saw on the underground and essential points to future manifestos. an odd business card of a restaurant or hostel. silly and impractical attempts at code when you are writing about something absolutely noone can discover. you can put exactly everything in notebooks, in particular the things you don't know where else to put, but know they'll fall out of your head or drawer at some point, and you don't want that to happen. they are timeless and current at the same time. you can rip blank pages out anytime you want to make a paper airplane or need a makeshift tablecloth or umbrella for one person. they are small enough to carry around in your pocket and even smuggle on the plane when they decide no carry-on is allowed, but big enough so they don't get lost in big bags. and if you don't have a pen or not even a mini ikea pencil, you can always write in lemon juice and stick it in the oven when you get home. to use a stupid metaphor, it's like your brain's external drive, only infinitely nicer and better. you can make it whatever you want, and when it's done put it away and discover after 20 years (or 2 months) and read like a history book crossed with your favourite childhood comic. or give it to a friend. just don't throw it out; or at least if you do, recycle.