When I set out to write Manifests, the first thing I did was pull out this music-staff Moleskine my wife got for me a couple years ago. It's one of several notebooks that I have kicking around at any given time—a couple more Moleskines (one graph-ruled, one blank) and two or three miscellaneous blank note/sketchpads. I've got an irrational fondness for the things; I almost always have a pen on me and I like to have something better than a scrounged-for napikin to write on if something comes to mind.
I've went through about sixty pages of this book in February 2007, which is about as much as I'd gone through in the prior two years. When I get to recording a song, it's usually a standalone thing, and I'll often do it start to finish in a short span of time (days or, on a manic afternoon, hours). Often, it's all in my head until it's recorded, or sketched out on whatever scratch paper is on hand, so the notebook has gotten catch-as-catch-can use historically.
But I gave it a workout in February. Constant companion. I'm a pretty absent-minded person, but I don't think I left the house that month without it in my pocket or in my backpack.