After reading Joan Didion's "On Keeping A Notebook" I had two thoughts: why have I never read this, and my God I do the same thing. Unlike Joan D though, my million little thoughts – bits of dialogue I overheard, observations, advice, notes to self, funny Southern expressions my parents say, lists of books I should have read by now, lists of films I should have seen by now, lists of words I should use but never do, all of these things – are written, scribbled, really – on hundreds (well maybe not hundreds but lots and lots) of little pieces of paper – on pulled-out pieces of notebook paper with the perforated edges still attached, on Post-It notes, yellow ones, green ones, pink ones, some faded, some still bright, on cocktail napkins, on the back of flight itineraries, on brown Starbucks napkins, on the back of a Pink Dot coupon, on ripped-out blank pages from the back of books, and a countless number of them are on the ripped-out pages of my cocktail server pad, things I scribble down while at work, story ideas, characters, notes on what people are wearing, saying. One of them (for instance) reads: German man, bad breath, wind pants, windbreaker, drinking half ice-tea, half-Diet Coke. Others are scribbled on the same side of the sheet as food orders. One reads: Spicy tuna roll, extra sesame, shrimp tempura, no mayo, salmon sushi, and below that: If you say “Don’t Touch My Mustache” really fast it sounds like “You’re Welcome” in Japanese.