"...[Other peoples'] stuff is shit, but your shit is stuff!" (On staying overnight at someone else's place) "Oh Shit, no! Now what do you bring? Now you just bring the things you know you're gonna need: money, keys, comb, wallet, lighter, hanky, pen, cigarettes, contraceptives, Vaseline, whips, chains, whistles, dildos and a book!"
- George Carlin -
Finally getting to some much needed chores this weekend, I've become aware of the fact that my little house is slowly, but surely starting to get cramped with stuff.
Like anybody else, I desire to accumulate stuff. It's easier to have a certain item of stuff on an occasion when you need it, even if you don't use it everyday. That's the idea of getting stuff in the first place. The other aspect of acquiring stuff is that it somewhat fills a void. For some, the acquisition of stuff becomes an obsession. George Carlin noted and ridiculed this often in his acts.
For some it's a status symbol. For other's it's a substitute for something else they feel lacking in their life. For yet others, its a paranoia that if they don't have the correct stuff, they may not be able to get it in the future.
Since well before the start of my Koyaanisqatsi years, for me it's been merely a fulfillment of basic needs.
I used to be like many people, working in order to simply be able to buy more stuff.
Books were one of my first objects of desire. Throughout my teen years and well into my late 20's I bought thousands of books, mostly hardcover. But I couldn't make enough money to afford bigger homes to display them all in, so I gave many away and boxed the majority of them. Eventually, those boxes became too numerous and too heavy for the number of moves I was making through the years and box by box, I shed them all; the bulk of them when I moved to Florida and left my friend John C. tens of boxes of them.
Artworks were another obsession. Mostly my own. But they're even more bulky and awkward to move, when one is a wanderlust like me, so they too were shed, piece by piece, over the years. At present, I own not a one of my many framed paintings or drawings, and I haven't for over a decade.
What's stating to build again, now, after so much time spent de-accumulating?
Computer games: From 1993 to 2002 I had built a huge collection over those years, but much of it, by the early years of this decade was painfully obsolete. During the early months of Koyaanisqatsi, hard up for cash, I sold it all (at least the stuff they'd take) to Electronics Boutique for about $25 total, the rest I threw into the same dumpster at Reflections that consumed my family photos, knick knacks, clothes, dishes and Nastralia materials in one drunken gulp.
Now since 2005, I've rebuilt my vast collection of computer games. Literally thousands of dollars spent on over a hundred titles. Most of the CD-ROMs and DVD-ROMs just gather dust, but I cling to them in case I get a yen to play a forgotten game some bored evening.
Clothes: Like every other overweight person on Earth, I hold on to clothes that no longer fit in the vain hope I'll drop the necessary pounds to wear them again. I have favorite shirts and pants that go back one or two sizes less than what fits now, and they sit in my closet, taking up valuable space, "just in case" I get back on track tomorrow and can squeeze back in them in a few weeks or so. Those weeks never seem to come.
Bills: Despite the financial disasters throughout the Koyaanisqatsi period (and before), my economic house of cards has miraculously been pretty stable over the course of the past few years, by comparison, of course. I am still quite poor, in my humble but astute estimation. But I'm not on the verge, just yet anyway, of outright panic or even discomfort. I live within my means and I'm happier for it. I've learned the invaluable lesson of settling for the basics and not coveting the trappings of luxury. But with stability comes traceability. Having a mailing address known by now ancient creditors (some from over a decade ago) means the accumulation of letters from all sorts of collection agencies.
Oh they won't ever be paid, of course. They're just kept neatly in a pile. An ever growing pile.
To remind me of the high price to pay for the wanton desires and constant yearning to get more stuff.