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Monday, June 2, 2008

Single Serving Slide

What I proudly present here is a guest post by Sir Jorge.


I was on the floor, looking up, and I realized that I was swimming in
a sea of my own expenses.

Do you ever do that?

Wake up to realize that you have too much stuff? Seriously, open your
eyes, look around and see what you have, see how you live...

I was eighteen when I decided to sell everything I had online. I sold
every last posession, with the exception of a few shirts and
necessities. I had made a few hundred dollars, and it was nice to be
free of my posessions.

Through the years, I began to collect more and more things, creating a
vapid existence when I wasn't working for someone else or asleep and
motionless. In America, we are spoiled, and even the most frugal and
"green" of people are spoiled.

I am spoiled.

I have 400 cd's in my collection, and have at least 200 dvd's in my
vast collection of films that I've purchased. They are all great to
me, but when's the last time I've watched "Night of the Demons" or
"The Faculty".

Now what?

My yearning for simplicity is smashed to pieces by my posessions. I
feel as though one day those posessions will grow arms and legs and
choke me while I sleep.

Why did I spend so much money?

If happiness and love are not found in world posessions, than why is
it that my walls are full of books, music and other media?

I feel vapid, I feel strange, and apparently am alone in my thoughts
that having too many things is only reason to prove that we are all
chasing the obsession that is involved with escapsim. I know I buy
into the idea of escape. I try to not think about work, and when I
can't sustain my mind into emptiness, I watch movies, I read, I listen
to music, I listen to podcasts, and I do anything to change my
perception of fallacy and design. The obsession to have things, to own
things, to purchase items, never stops.

I don't think the answer is to sell everything again.

However, the weight of my posessions grow heavy, and my thoughts grow
bored with the old media, and my thirst for new media grows ever so
hard to satiate.

What about the world around me?

My coworkers, my family, my long lost friends, where are all of them
when I fear that one day I'll have to carry all that I own and move.

Imagine if you had to walk away from everything and carry your
posessions with you; could you live? How far could you go? HOw big of
a vehicle do you need to get out?

I'm alone a lot.

These are the things I think about. Do I have too much? I'm poor, but
to an outsider I seem rich. With my vast posessions.

In the end, like I've said many times, all they sold me was boredom.
In the end all they sell us is boredom.

We are all bored.

We are all blind.

We are all poor.

We are all rich.

Yet we fail to say hello to each other when we walk by. We refuse to
give to the poor guy with the sign and the addiction. We fail to
support the widow, the orphan, the casualty of flood, earthquake, war,
and famine. Yet we struggle to find the remote, when our favorite
program is on.

The most pious of us all, is still bored.

We bought it though, we bought the boredom, and it is packaged in so
many different ways.

I don't have the answers, but I sure have a lot of questions. No one
is around to answer them either.

I wake up at 4 a.m....and I start work at 9 a.m...or do I ever wake
up? Every minute our life draws closer to the end.


Jim Murdochsaid...

Interesting piece, Jasko. I have never considered myself a materialist. I have a lot of CDs and tapes, being of a certain age, but I threw out my LPs years ago. It's been a while since I counted but I should be about the 1000 mark – two tall bookcases full of music – and I do listen to most of it. I go through moods but it's nice to be able to spend an entire evening listening to Sibelius or Jean Michel Jarre. Or a week listening to Tangerine Dream. I bought when I had money and I bought wisely. Now I'm not so rich I have all of this to fall back on. I've moved house so many times over the years that I'm surprised I've amassed so much because every time I move I throw out tons of stuff. I don't romanticise things. I don't need the latest whatever. As a writer I do need stimulus and all the things I treasure are to that end even my collection of Gerry Anderson spacecraft.

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