Planner history

From Jillian Hess’s Noted, “A Short History of the Daily Planner”:

Today we tend to think of daily planners as records of what will happen. But most of its early users saw daily blank space in their notebooks as a way to record what had happened. It was a way to account for one’s time and how it was spent (as George Washington noted).

It’s not until the 20th century that we see pocket diaries regularly used for recording future events.

The 20th century! That’s exactly when I started using a planner to record future events (and each day’s things to do).

My planner history took a strange turn in this century when I discovered that my 2024 Moleskine pocket daily planner was missing sixteen days. (Yes, really.) So I bought a Leuchtturm pocket weekly with notebook and found myself trying hard to like it. But the faux-leather cover, ultra-faint print, and tiny Saturday/Sunday spaces are just not for me. Using this planner for just a few days made me realize how much I like the idea of every day having its own page. Or as Harvey Pekar says in the OCA sidebar, “Every day is a new deal.”

So why didn’t I buy a Leuchtturm pocket daily? It’s not offered on the company’s U.S. site, and Amazon has it only as an import from Japan, taking weeks to ship, with this cryptic warning: “Imports from Japan may differ from local products.” Would I be getting a planner with Japanese text? Also: “Manufacturer warranty may not apply.”

Twelve days ago I wrote that my defective Moleskine would be my last. But last weekend I ordered another 2024 Moleskine from Amazon. It arrived with all the days of the year included, even February 29. I ordered it after being told via e-mail that Moleskine would not replace the defective planner (their former practice) and that I’d be issued a refund. Okay.

But then, oops, they said they made a mistake. Since I hadn’t ordered from their website, I could receive only a credit. I had of course sent them a screenshot of my Amazon order at the start of our correspondence. I’ve now written to the company asking for a refund and am awaiting a response.

Does it go without saying that I noted in my planner the date on which I sent my letter?

*

The story of my effort to get a refund for my defective Moleskine continues here.

[Hess notes that the OED first has planner as a thing (not a person) in the 1970s: “Something used to facilitate planning, as a chart or table containing planning information, a calendar recording future appointments, etc.”]

Fruit Stripe gum

The New York Times reports that Fruit Stripe gum is being discontinued.

Did you know that Fruit Stripe gum had several animal mascots? From the Times:

Yipes the Zebra emerged as the dominant mascot, with every gum wrapper doubling as a Yipes temporary tattoo. The tattoos depicted Yipes in active poses, such as skateboarding, playing baseball or eating grass.

Yipes I hardly knew ye.

Jack Hamm’s Cartooning

Bill Griffith has been invoking Jack Hamm’s Cartooning the Head and Figure in Zippy this week: on Wednesday, Thursday, and again today. And lo: the book is available at archive.org.

Recently updated

Words of the year Now with enshittification .

Recently updated

Fliqlo lives! Alas, this screensaver still uses — at least on my Mac — an enormous amount of memory.

An overview of the science of reading

“An effort to overhaul how children learn to read, known as the science of reading movement, is sweeping the country. Here’s where it stands”: “What to Know About the Science of Reading” (The New York Times, gift link).

I missed this article when it appeared earlier this month. Thanks, Joe.

Hail to thee, blithe Parsnip!

Carrot thou never wert.

I think of the parsnip as the carrot’s quiet cousin. There’s the carrot, in the center of the room, doing a magic trick or telling a colorful (heh) story. And there’s the parsnip, over in a corner, looking at the titles on the bookshelf.

As you may have guessed, I like parsnips. I like carrots too. They both belong in the stew.

[Post title with apologies to Percy Bysshe Shelley and my friend and Shelley devotee Rob Zseleczky. Our household’s parsnips come from Ed Fields & Sons.]

Intertextuality

[Hi and Lois, January 11, 2024. Click for a larger view.]

[Zippy, January 11, 2024. Click for a larger view.]

Intertextuality in today’s comics.

How did Lois know to use that enormous pot to make cocoa? She got hold of the script.

Venn reading
All OCA Hi and Lois posts : Hi and Lois and Zippy posts : Zippy posts (Pinboard)

A pallet on the floor

Jean Stafford, Boston Adventure (1944).

The opening sentence of Boston Adventure announces the key signatures, so to speak, of the novel: D and P. The novel is Dickensian, beginning as the story of a girlhood spent in poverty, and Proustian, beginning with sleep. Proust: “Longtemps, je me suis couché de bonne heure.” Or in Lydia Davis’s translation, “For a long time, I went to bed early.”

The moments of involuntary memory in the novel, the miniature essays that universalize the narrator’s experience into a “we” — so Proustian. But Proust’s narrator, unlike Sonie Marburg, never had to sleep on the floor.

Boston Adventure has been reissued by New York Review Books. My only relation to the link is that of a happy reader.

“Too many things”

Ted Berrigan, in a 1962 journal:

Got rid of all my books (about 400) except for about 75. Sold them to pay Joe’s rent or gave them to Dick & Carol. Also gave up stealing entirely. We have money and it’s a joy to buy something, to save for it, then read it! Too many things make everything less.

From Get the Money! Collected Prose (1961–1983) (San Francisco: City Lights, 2022).

Joe: Joe Brainard. Dick & Carol: Dick Gallup and Carol Clifford (later Carol Gallup).

Related reading
All OCA Ted Berrigan posts : Joe Brainard posts : A poem by Dick Gallup