diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'published/2016-05-15_root-down.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | published/2016-05-15_root-down.txt | 14 |
1 files changed, 9 insertions, 5 deletions
diff --git a/published/2016-05-15_root-down.txt b/published/2016-05-15_root-down.txt index 14c0b00..3f6f31a 100644 --- a/published/2016-05-15_root-down.txt +++ b/published/2016-05-15_root-down.txt @@ -1,14 +1,18 @@ -One of the interesting things about moving is the archeology it requires, digging through layers of accumulation to reveal yourself. The longer you've been in one location the more stuff that's accumulated. As far as I can tell there is no real way to combat the detritus of the world seeping into your space, saving cutting off all contact with the outside world. I imagine monasteries are generally immaculate; the rest of use get out the pick axes and clear the rubble. +One of the interesting things about moving is the archeology it requires, digging through layers of accumulation to reveal yourself. The longer you've been in one location the more stuff that's accumulated. As far as I can tell there is no real way to combat the detritus of the world seeping into your space, save cutting off all contact with the outside world. I imagine monasteries are generally immaculate; the rest of us get out the pick axes and clear the rubble. At first I spent a lot time thinking how hard it is to move, but then I realized it's probably no harder to move out than it was to move in. Moving out just happens to severely compress time. You acquire over the span of 10 years. You un-acquire in a matter of weeks. -But in between the crap, the dirt as it were there are the occasional shards of pottery and other things of interest. It's fun re-discovering this stuff. +But in between the crap, the dirt as it were, there are the occasional shards of pottery and other things of interest. Many moons ago I was down in Laguna Beach, CA at the now long gone Tippecanoe's clothing store when I ran across a relatively innocuous dark olive green shirt. Probably handmade, it looked a bit like an old-style baseball jersey, with an iron-on number three in red on the front pocket. On the back it had a cheery serif script that read "Fuck Our Society", flanked on either side by anarchy A's in padlocks. You bet your ass I bought it. -I was in a band back then and I played quite a few shows in it. My friend Ruben asked me to play with his band on the side, I'm pretty sure just because he wanted the shirt on stage with him.But this was Orange County CA in the mid to late 1990s, deviations from the norm simply didn't happen. I didn't wear it out much. Wearing it has always been a kind of performance. I haven't warn since I moved back east in 1999. +<img src="images/2016/DSCF9320_01.jpg" class="picfull caption" /> -Once, on the way to a show, we stopped at Trader Joe's to grab a snack for the road and while we were standing in line I felt a tap on the shoulder. I had been conscious of wearing the shirt since I got out of the car so I turned around expecting some kind of confrontation, but it was a tiny woman, not much over five feet tall who looked me up and down and then smiled and said, "I like your shirt." +I was in a band back then and I played quite a few shows in it. I'm pretty sure my friend Ruben asked me to play with his band on the side just because he wanted the shirt on stage with him. + +This was Orange County CA in the mid to late 1990s, deviations from the norm simply didn't happen. The shirt stood out. I didn't wear it much. Wearing it was a kind of performance. And this site notwithstanding, I don't generally live my life as a public performance. I haven't worn the shirt since I moved back east in 1999. + +Once, on the way to a show, we stopped at Trader Joe's to grab a snack for the road and while we were standing in line I felt a tap on the shoulder. I had been conscious of wearing the shirt since I got out of the car so I turned around expecting some kind of confrontation, but it was a tiny older woman, not much over five feet tall, a grandmotherly figure who I had no doubt was about to express some offense at my shirt. But instead she looked me up and down and then smiled and said, "I like your shirt." I felt like that was probably the shirt's high water mark. I don't think I've worn it since. Why do I still have it? Fuck our society's obsession with keeping things. I fired off an email to a friend I knew would want it and it's gone. @@ -28,4 +32,4 @@ On the plus side this keeps the entirety of my photo collection to single shoe b I don't normally advocate for buying stuff, but a [Fuji Instax printer](http://instax.com/products/printer/) is on our short list of trip purchases. I want to leave my kids a record of their childhood that exists outside these digital walls. -That's always the hard part of these excavations, figuring out what actually has personal value and what doesn't. I find I'm often wrong. I thought the banjo and the books had value to me, but they don't. Five years ago I almost threw out the photos. Now they're the only thing I keep around. +That's always the hard part of these excavations, figuring out what actually has personal value and what doesn't. I find I'm often wrong. I thought the banjo and the books had value to me, but they don't. Five years ago I almost threw out the photos. Now they're the only thing I keep around. |