What do the notebooks say about me? The notebooks I’ve discarded, full of words and ideas, the notebooks I’ve kept to stow away in the shadows? They garner dust, the pages yellow and grow brittle. I keep them for no reason, perhaps to prove to myself that my obsession isn’t imaginary, it produces something physical, tangible. And why throw some away and not all of them? What makes me keep a notebook I’ve carried with me for a month, two months, spilling thoughts into it at each available moment, the notebook stained with all attitudes of those stolen moments lost in thought, my hands stained with ink, black, just as the notebook, black, becomes for me the only enduring proof that I have lived this life, here, with everyone else, a walking ghost among the living? What do the notebooks say about me?
Published by TJ McAvoy
I am a thinker by trade and an artist by definition. Primary influences include, in no particular order, Chandler, Voltaire, Saramago, Borges, John Coltrane, Nietzsche, Ricardo Piglia, Emerson, George V. Higgins, Manuel Puig, D.F. Wallace, Cortázar, Denis Johnson, Michelangelo, Italo Calvino, Cormac McCarthy, Juan José Saer, Keith Jarrett, J-Dilla, Roberto Bolaño, and Don DeLillo. View all posts by TJ McAvoy