s T r E am # 4 8

If you drop a notepad and it hits the ground, it’s not going to break. And you don’t need to recharge a notebook – that is, a paper-filled notebook. And unless you’re famous (or infamous), nobody’s going to want to steal your paper notepad or your paper notebook, either. Not that it matters. Forgive me, I am in mourning, for a Constant in my life has now faded into oblivion: The Chandler’s Assignment Notebook.

In these parts, in the past, they’d go on sale around the beginning of August. But as I feared with last year’s edition, all was not well in Chandlersland. In years past, there’d be some famous, inspirational quote printed on the upper lefthand corner of every page. But for the 2007-2008 edition, there were no such quotes. That space on that side of every page was left blank. 

Yesterday, whilst stockers stocked the shelves with Back-To-School supplies at the local SavYah, I asked a manager when they might expect their annual shipment of Chandler’s Assignment Notebooks. It hadn’t arrived yet – and she confessed to me that this worried her. 

And then, minutes ago, it dawned on me to “surf” on over to chandlers.com. 

Alas! 

They’ve posted a simple note:

“Thank you for your patronage over the last several decades. 

Unfortunately, Chandler’s Inc. has officially closed for business. We will not be selling the Assignment Notebook or DateBooks in 2008 or beyond. 

Best of luck and well wishes to all of our past customers.” 

This comes as a crushing blow. It signifies, for me, once and for all, the true end of the pen and paper way of things. Truth be told, the Chandler’s Assignment Notebook was, largely, a scholastic tool. And one reasonably might ask: Do kids even write with pens, pencils, and paper anymore? 

I, however, still write by hand. This, here, these words, no, they’re typed. But I accomplish most of my “real” work upon a 6” x 9” ruled wireless (not Wi-Fi) writing “tablet,” using a Uni-ball Signo 207 Premier pen (with the “responsive cushion grip”).* Compared to keyboarding, there is something more intimate about writing by hand. Likewise, there is something so much more independent about pressing a pen to paper. 

But perhaps that’s me. That’s just the way I grew up. 

Before too long, there will be nothing available to read on the Internet. No, it’ll all be some talking head or cartoon. After that, we’ll probably have wireless (yes, Wi-Fi), streaming interpersonal thought – but nothing of substance. Precious little will be worth remembering. Heck, if it all can be stored on an external hard drive, why bother remembering anything at all? 

Yes, ultimately, mankind will live on impulse alone. If we’re very lucky, the machines will keep a watchful eye. They’ll make sure that we don’t injure ourselves. We’ll all be infants again – and forever. Blissful ignoramuses. Yes, I believe “Wall-E” does, in all likelihood, accurately augur humanity’s future. That’s the best-case scenario. Here’s hoping I won’t be around to experience that level of pathetic wretchedness. 

So it seems I must write solely for myself. I suppose I do already. Writing is a means of ordering the chaos of one’s reality – albeit a largely illusory means, at that. 

I wish I could have as much fun as everybody else appears to be having, but I can’t help staring at all the Doom looming on the horizon. Perhaps that is why so many of you smoke and drink and drug: It’s an effort to beat Global Doom to the punch – that is, by hastening Personal Doom. 

Bottom reached.† 

25 July 2008

*[Indeed, to this very day, I still use the same Uni-ball Signo 207 Premier gel pen—albeit refilled many, many, many times since 2008.]

†[Hardly a “stream” of consciousness at all, eh? My apologies. I’m too fixated on providing meaning. After all, if not ordering the chaos, writing is the act and the art of mining and refining one’s own thoughts.]