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You get to be my age, and stuff doesn’t mean a whole fucking lot anymore.


Look at it this way.

Immortality means you have no respect for things being old.   Because “old” is a relative term, yeah?   And you don’t get nostaglic, because there is no fucking ‘when I was young’ shit, or ridiculous family occasions to commemorate – or bloody souvenirs to keep.   Who needs to remember?   When you have eternity, there’s every chance that sooner or later you’ll go back somewhere, bump into that equally ageless acquiantance again, or have a similar experience next time.   I’ve never understood the serial-killers-and-trophies thing – why keep a memento to ‘relive’ the event when you can just go out and relive the event?

So keeping stuff – ‘valuing’ shit – because it’s ‘antique’ or ‘retro’ or ‘sentimental’ doesn’t make any sense to us.   We couldn’t fucking care less.   To appreciate that physical capture of moments in time, your death clock actually has to be ticking…


Plus – how much stuff does the average person accumulate in a lifetime?   And how many times would that average person move all that stuff in that lifetime?   And every time, how much of a fucking rigmarole is doing it?  

Now multiple that by over half-a-dozen lifetimes and equal quantities of stuff.   Doing the math?   Bloody ludicrous, isn’t it?   So all my lot travel light – we just can’t be fucked messing around with all that shit so often. (“Often” – also a relative term…)


And let me tell you this.   That thing you’re keeping ‘for a special occasion’ or ‘because it might come in handy’ or ‘just for emergencies’? – bullshit.   It’s going to fucking gather dust, or fill up cupboard space, or fall apart before you ever need it or remember it’s there.   Stuff is transient – if it’s not useful now, to hell with it.   And most stuff doesn’t last.   It rots, and decays, and disintegrates, and discolors and dies an inanimate death.   Believe me.   I know.


So I’m in my new apartment.   So far, other than the untouched kitchen and bathroom amenities, there is a chair I pinched from the laundry room, a folding table I ‘borrowed’ from someone’s unlocked storage cage in the garage, and my new (post-Py-melodrama) laptop.   There is my backpack in the corner, that has in it some clothes, a folder of useful documents to do with my finances and fake identities, my Ipod, my replacement Iphone, some miscellany – and a good supply of snaplock bags.   And there’s the Cat, who is punishing me for putting it in the Cat carrier by now permanently refusing to come out of it in my presence.


Moral of the story is: materialism is a human vice.  

That’s not to say greed isn’t a universal one.  

Greed, too, is a relative term.   It’s just that me and mine are hungry for other things…





  1. Say what you will, but I still prefer a pre-Ikea couch to the fluff and particle board that is glued together and called furniture. Maybe Cat needs a scratching post.

  2. Inanimate things are transient. Sentimentality is a weakness, though I have my share of it when it comes to places.

    I agree with Ana: pre-Ikea stuff is much better. More comfortable, less breakable.

    Back to nostalgia. People have it because each experience is unique. The concert last weekend the same as the one last year even if it was the same musicians.
    I’ve been to Yellowstone, Tahoma-bet, and Yosemite too many times to count, but it’s never been the same experience. Concerning the last, the first time I went there was with the Old Man to meet his acquaintance named Clark. Things in that valley changed so much there just within that man’s lifetime.

    I apologize. You’re right.
    Even we have too much stuff – we’re horribly greedy sometimes. Brísingamen and Draupnir were still just objects, and they came to naught in the end.
    Still, even in such an endless existence, one should value each enjoyable experience as unique. It won’t happen quite that way again.

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