Less: The Stuff That’s Worth Caring About

I donated, passed down and gave away most of my belongings after I graduated from college.  It wasn’t any sort of hippy, fuck-the-world, Christopher McCandless-type political statement, nor was I attempting to create some sort of pseudo hero’s journey.  It was really that I compiled too many things, most being junk, throughout the years.  I felt it was only necessary to keep the items which I felt I absolutely needed: my laptop, a few electronics, some clothing and books.

My perishable stuff consisted of a large quantity of a few unique items:

An abundance of clothing, most which did not fit anymore or was destroyed from college debauchery.  I donated the clothing to Goodwill, and gave the nicer pieces to friends or younger family members.  I found in my closet boxes of old electronics and computer parts, some which were broken, that I’d been too attached to to dispose of.  I trashed them.  Also, I parted with my excessive physical CD and DVD collection, which I gave away to people that cared about collecting the cased media.¹  And finally, I disposed of my rugged notebooks of sketches, notes, journal entries, ideas and essays.  In case you are wondering, they weren’t wasted.  Anything truly valuable has already been executed.

My room is basically stripped, which I did in preparation to move, even though for awhile I didn’t know where I was going.  What is left is stuff I’m either keeping, bringing with me, or is too big too move.  I’ve heard that you can tell everything about someone by observing their room, and as I take a last look around on the things I am leaving, I would completely agree.  Here is what’s left:

• A reprint Bob Gruen photograph of John Lennon in the famous New York City t-shirt, hanging on my wall.
• The framed, original records of Tommy, Who’s Next?, Led Zeppelin II, Disraeli Gears and The College Dropout sitting on my various shelves.
• A colorful painting-print of Muhammad Ali’s reign over Sonny Lison signed by the artist Stango which rests above my desk.
• The canvas I painted in Florence, which is my stylized version of Van Gogh’s Skull and Cigarette, sitting on my drawers.
• A large, framed poster of Dark Side of the Moon, which hangs horizontally over my bed.
• My black Takamini guitar, hooked on the wall, which has done more not playing than playing.
• A framed, original cutout of the Rolling Stones fan club invitation sitting on my night stand.

It’s easy to see where my cultural inspiration comes from.  Eh, so call me dramatic.  I say that’s what makes the little things worth caring about, or at least remembering.

1. I still own the copies I care about digitally. [↩]

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