Dear Moleskin by Mark Jobanputra

I am not Jay Electronica, perhaps one of the greatest rappers of the 21st century, though one day my words will wrap every facet of the world, flowing through public consciousness like Plato’s ‘Allegory of the Cave’ among literary circles. Ok, this isn’t a word for word recreation of his song Dear Moleskine, but this is my Moleskine about an Italian moleskin coat which has draped over me during the happiest of times and the most tragic of times. Some would say it is simply a black, medium-sized, Italian coat consisting of eight pockets of various sizes and seen from various distances, to think such a thing is the height of naivety. I first felt the velvety embrace of this coat in 2013 on the very first day of University, choked by existentialism and introversion, I had no clue what would be my comfort blanket. Maybe the watery hug of a shower? Perhaps offering a steamy cup of tea to travel down the gullet of whoever was in the kitchen (*ahem* typical Brit *ahem*) and make small talk about things which will disappear into the ether faster than it would fall out of our mouths? I chose to show off my coat and have the ladies drag their soft hands over the material, but this was only temporary because we dispersed into our respective rooms like ants leaving their nest for food.
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I wore the coat during the worst heartbreak I had the misfortune of enduring in 2016. A girl I don’t wish to name (I’m saving that for the novel) who wore a black leather jacket and black fishnets upon our first meeting smoked a joint with me and was a constant, enticing flirt. Our words stuck together in real life and social media for months, what I didn’t realise was mutual flirting, philosophy, humour and me trying to invite her to Loading in Dalston would make no difference whatsoever. I wore the coat when she knew I had feelings and found her kissing a good friend after five minutes of meeting him. All I could do was walk off, find an empty bedroom, throw myself under the bed and hide under the coat as best I could and only coming out to smoke an excessive amount of Marlboro Reds. Of course, this was only temporary because he hoisted me up and gave me beers to drown my sorrows. However, the next time I saw them both, James had turned to Judas (more like Double-Judas) …Look let’s just say I saw an actual Peep Show.
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Well hey, it’s not all bad, the coat was my protective shield when I saw Danny Brown the Electric in Brixton. Throughout the life-squeezing mosh pit, I became a human pinball for those around me. The timbre slicing through the air from each lyric caused me to crash side to side into each human bumper. There was no flipper to save me, but it didn’t matter because I didn’t fall. The coat saved me from making my seizures much worse than they could have been. Although I was afraid, she would steal it, it warmed up the beautiful, yet psychotic girl I made out with outside Camden station before she returned it to me and we walked away into the next stages of the night. I wore it at my first ever house party when torrents of beer were poured over each guest. My coat didn’t stand a chance, musty droplets of Heineken were trickling slowly from my coat to the ground. I didn’t know I was a part of some weird party game. Before I knew it, a bunch of guests swarmed me and started licking different parts of the coat. All I could do was stand there and wonder what the fuck was happening.

Oh Moleskin, you have been there for me over the years. I didn’t grow to like you; I knew you were the one for me. Whenever my arms slide through those comforting sleeves, I turn from Bruce Wayne to Batman, hell, even Serena to Sailor Moon. If you were a human, I would keep on hugging you until the very last breath departs. Of course, I will be saddened for Heaven will never compare to you. Don’t ever change.