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?
Staying in hotel rooms might help reduce hoarding tendencies. On a recent flight, I brought a nearly-full suitcase and the intention of only getting meaningful souvenirs. I had myriad materialistic moments between visiting: two music stores, one thrift store, one videogame store, one museum gift store, and five airport souvenir stores. I barely succeeded in not buying anything meaningless. My collecting intentions were focused around two questions. Second: “Do you have any rare Nirvana stuff?”
“If you don’t go to the store all the time, and you don’t look around that much, you won’t buy anything that you don’t need.” What’s the balance between buying the things you need versus merely wanted things? Should we be as minimalist as possible, or can we indulge in collecting certain things? My biggest current/future consideration is: how important are those wants for you and how much room do you have for those items?
A “taco festival” with only one vendor dedicated to tacos? Excelling in gluttony should be a priority for Sabroso Taco Festival, like noteworthy food festival Bite of Seattle, if they intend to overtake retiring punk rock festival Warped Tour. If music festivals are declining in ticket sales in the United States, new and remaining festivals need more diverse content enticing wider audiences that might otherwise only be moderately interested in music. Sabroso is nearly there.
Music Rating: ★★★☆☆ [“2.8″/5]
Non-Music Rating: ★★★☆☆ [3/5]
Tacos/Food Rating: ★☆☆☆☆ [1/5]
Overall Rating: ★★★☆☆ [“2.2″/5]
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