Four Hours in Iceland: Notes on Exhaustion, Brain Drain and David Sedaris

- loopy, jet-lagged scribbling journaled on layover at Keflavik Int'l Airport -

20 Sept. 2K17

1:45pm - 5:45pm

8dg C. (outside, duh)

How many degrees Fahrenheit are 8 degrees Celsius?

What is the Icelandic currency, and how much is it worth? When "nachos" cost 650kr, what does this mean, to me?

Beer and Brennivin is what this pub, Loksins, offers. What is Brennivin? (In fact, a vile schnapps-like fuel that tastes like Scope. Blech!) My Internet connection is failing; ergo, I cannot research any of this

Inspired by a simple yet beautiful Instagram photo, by fashion and design superstars at Demu Label, I add my own voice, echoing historical scriveners, to the present paradigm of writers, designers and sketch artists everywhere. I declare, "La plume et le papier ne sont pas mort!" The pen and paper are not dead!

Like a garden shed or one's shoe closet, the journal is a storage unit of sorts: a private spot where one gathers, collects and organizes one's thoughts before committing them to the exposure, sunlight and scrutiny of the harsh outside world. Combined in perfect unison and in complementary usage throughout the creative process and stages, the pen, the journal, the lone bits of hotel notepad paper, plus all necessary digital mechanisms can trudge forth as one. Vive le tablet, vive le laptop, but longer vive the pen and the paper! (Waterman pens, especially :D Thanks, Mom!)

Happy Scribbling!