Today, in Perfect Things
in manhattan, i watched a man in a ron paul shirt get scolded by a trader joe’s employee for availing himself of too many samples.
“sir! sir! you can take one like everybody else.”
Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast
How bad does it suck when you realize he’s talking about his Moleskine? I didn’t have to finish reading it. If you walk down Bedford Ave you wade through three or four feet of those complimentary Moleskine brochures that remind you how Picasso and Tim Curry and Charo all had them and could justify spending $18 on a leather bound burial ground for confessional poetry.