lundi le 29 mai 2017
Le Bon Marché, Paris
And so a new daily practice begins.
I first considered the idea of a handwritten blog on Saturday. And yesterday was such a beautiful dimanche (indeed, the hottest Paris has seen this year so far) that when I got to our office in the afternoon I finalized the domain/blog name, got on insta and twitter, and posted my first blog post — all within the same afternoon. And that’s with a leisurely Parisian brunch in between.
I wanted to create a little space in the world just for my thoughts and daily adventures.
Albert-Claude, my intended, was the first person I showed this blog to, as no one’s opinion matters more to me than his. “It’s so good,” were his first words of feedback. To him, this looks like it was written by someone from centuries past but has time-travelled to our time, and is embracing this new “blog” technology but doing it in their way.
I wasn’t sure how to sign off on each post, and whether to keep this blog anonymous or not. As you can probably tell, I’m a traditionalist, so I’m accustomed to signing official letters with my full name and title; for more casual letters, just my first and last name. I’ve decided it is good to keep anonymity in order to keep things honest, true, and unfiltered. And so to keep some of my classic sensibilities, I’ve signed my first three names.
First thing today I went to Le Bon Marché (where I still am now, having dejeuner) to pick up pen and paper. I chose a gold and silver fountain pen with a fine nib, and also a pad of Crown Mill vellum paper. It’s one thing I do love about France — they carry proper writing accoutrements partout, partout.
Albert-Claude said my tone of writing so far was as it should be — I’m writing to myself, which he thinks not everyone can do. We both think it’s best if in the end this is something people like to read, otherwise it’s just a boring record of events/self-serving private journal. But what if, in writing on things of interest to others, I forget the things I’d like recorded, but left out? “Don’t worry,” he said, ” by writing, you’ll remember.”
“You’ll write everyday?” he asked. “Yes.” I said. Yes, I will.