I write to lots of people, in my working life and in my private life. To students, clients, colleagues, editors, bosses, loyal blog readers, even sometimes my friends and family get a remote look in. But it seems that a lot of the time I spend writing to myself. I am an inveterate scribbler of notes to self: partly because I have a brain like a sieve, and partly because I am always having ideas and thoughts which at the time seem good, and only in the cold light of day, when I re-examine the bar receipt on which they are scribbled, turn out to be unoriginal, uninteresting or unimportant. That is, if they aren't simply incomprehensible.
Notes to myself current littering my desk include:
Napoli - Amalfi 2hrs; Salerno - Amalfi 30 mins
Roma - Napoli 1h5 20; Roma - Salerno 3hrs
"Silver Platter" p 37 role of art
Jnl of Contemporary History: Culture & Combat Motivation special issue?
PPT entro domenica?
"Figli d'Italia: Viviamo e vinciamo nel loro esempio / Senza nostalgia, senza odio, senza paura" firmato "La Comunità"
is there a relationship with Liberal perceptions of romanità/Risorgimento traditions?
Prawn Pathia, spinach rice, 1 naan
Some of these I can decipher, though I don't think I know anyone called Emanuelle nor, sadly, do I live in a city with a likely source of Prawn Pathia home delivery, so that note dates from 2005 at the latest. Other things are mystifying: is that a war memorial inscription? a fascist poster? an ultras' striscione? why did I write it down & when & where? what is the silver platter? what was I thinking about Renato Zero? answers scribbled on the back of a bancomat receipt or half a torn envelope, please.