On my first day of being able to walk around any supermarket after surgery, I went to buy S&M2, and also soak in the excessive capitalism materialism. While passing through the apparel section, I impulsively bought a Nirvana shirt that I’ve probably spent years deciding to buy. I enjoyed wearing the shirt and love S&M2. While my days of randomly buying things are done, I think I’ve achieved a good balance between excess and satiation.
I woke up this morning not wanting to wake up this morning. Everything about existing hurt. I did wake up this morning, but it took me about one hour to pry myself out of bed. I still have four more mornings, potentially this bad, before the surgery to help my spine. Until then, I have to make every effort to maintain my body’s decrepit state. After meandering through some media, I feel ready to write.
When I wake up without pain, my mind will now automatically plan out charming long-term ideas that are quite enjoyable. I like some of them because they seem realistic and feasible. When I wake up to pain, it’s not so much that my mind becomes reclusively selfish, it’s just that there is no space for creativity. I can’t comfortably imagine what will happen in five years when I can’t even predict how tomorrow might go.
In my earliest memory, I’m sitting in my childhood backyard pondering, perhaps, Indra’s net? The sorts of interconnectednesses we have within all of humanity, where you and I are the same consciousness experiencing reality through simultaneous simulations, coalescing in an immediacy where you react to me based on the you-experience bias of the me-experience bias. The Midnight Gospel doesn’t shed significant light on my journey, however, once I find the destination, what would I do?
What is it about a videogame aimed primarily at children that appeals to me so deeply? Answering that question in detail will require going through specific experiences, so let’s summarize Pokémon, and specifically LeafGreen as the culmination of everything I had wanted from other videogames as a kid from a pure gameplay perspective. 150+ playable characters with individual strengths and weaknesses? In a saccharine, idyllic world? The games appeal to me most when I’m feeling unwell.
Two months ago, a local company that buys and sells music and such posted that they had received a partial discography: “Come grab some of the albums by the progenitors of Jet Rock n’ Roll, Guitar Wolf!!! No flight to Japan necessary!” This was the post that made me realize the full extent of what I want from life. I have a box full of Nirvana stuff, over a thousand CDs, but soon, not anymore…
I’m still not sure what the appeal is of a one-string bass guitar, really. I mean, I bought it because it was cheap, I like playing bass for maybe 30 minutes every other month, and you can get some interesting sounds with exaggerated string bends. But, really? Why did such an object latch onto me so much? By donating it, I think it’ll be like admitting to myself that I draw for fun; nothing too serious.
An important topic regarding ownership of property is commitment. If you buy a fancy car, are you committed to the maintenance time and costs associated with it? Houses require upkeep. So, too, do the objects within anyone’s abode. I once wanted a massive collection of CDs, perhaps out of some excess curiosity, and now as I organize dozens of boxed CDs, I ask the contents: would I budget the time to see your band live?
I donated around 100 records some months ago. I don’t remember how many, just their overall mass. I kept my then-favorites, most of which I’ll sell off after I sell the records in this bag. I thought of bringing this to-sell bag along to my first Record Store Day, but they were too busy selling. It was fun walking through some music shops searching for my CD essentials – Nirvana and GUITAR WOLF – and walking away empty-handed.
“This CD smells like cleaner…” If it plays all the way through without skipping, does it matter if the packaging isn’t in great condition? I own too many “fragile” CDs that might have a scuff or two of either my own doing or someone else’s. How do we balance a CD’s inherent fragility with wanting to play them? What if we’re still attached to the idea of listening to an album outside of digital means?