It’s not that I want to keep only my “best” possessions, or the ones that resonate with me the “most,” it’s that I want to get rid of everything that doesn’t, so that way as I’m doing my evening chores that help me prepare for the day ahead, I won’t be hindered by yesterday’s regrets or today’s misadventures. I don’t need physical records. I can record everything here that won’t enable my brightest future ahead.
Less abstractly, I’m keeping albums I enjoy over fan favorites.
If I’m not interested in listening to it in the car, what further use does the physical object represent? If a mass-market object is intrinsically tied to some highly personal memory, then it should either be imbued with more memories, personalized, or we should explore more deeply why the object resonates more deeply with us.
Less abstractly, I’m divisive on Rob Zombie.
I was introduced to his music by a role model type figure that once mystical became mortal in a way that I didn’t gel with that well, so while listening to The Sinister Urge, a CD that this individual recommended today, I thought about some of his mysticism. He told me about how he showed off his tattoos to GWAR and some adult things. I also failed this friend of mine years ago and never really could apologize, and even if I did, we were distant enough as acquaintances that I doubt he’d really care. Those were some of the thoughts I had, but more than that, I just enjoyed the music.
It was a fun time listening to the album.
Not everything we own needs to be completely exciting or thrilling on its own terms. Some of the tracks on here are boring. After seeing Rob Zombie stumble through his set years ago, I was left despondent toward his music. Those stories I heard of Oderus Urungus digging some art, or a warehouse conversation where my friend was told by someone that his art was too good to be wasted in a warehouse still rang true, but it was like these stories could have been embellished, like the caliber of a Rob Zombie concert.
There may be other compilations with more consistent songs.
At least for now, this is an example of an object I’m not ready to sell. I will someday. Maybe once I reach back out to this distant friend? Maybe if I see Rob Zombie again, by chance, and those new memories cloud the old ones. Actually, now that I think about it, the art was really only the stopping thing for me to keep this CD. I explored its liner notes nearly twenty years ago in almost awe.
The art is certainly worthwhile.
Reading over the lyrics does remind me of why I still like the manufactured music over the organic memories. Photoshopped imagery doesn’t replace reality. It sits beside it. Memories and things are complex.
When an object can still inspire vibrant imaginations, why not keep it?
|Sources: My personal experiences.|
|Inspirations: As I’m going through my CDs, I’m making these tough decisions now, so when I address other collections, I can act quicker. As I’ve been saying throughout these seemingly similar essays, I get bored of writing the exact same thing, so once I “get it,” I’ll write about other things. Until then, it’s like looking at a problem from a few hundred angles.|
|Related: Other Downsizing Zeal essays.|
|Photo: This is a more specific example of a broader situation but sometimes that helps the essay anchor more into reality. As I finished listening to the CD on my drive home, I thought: I should personalize this CD, so I took a 4-color pen and drew a quick sketch.|
|Written On: June 26th [24 minutes, mobile]|
|Last Edited: June 27th [Minor edits, otherwise, first draft; final draft for the Internet.]|