Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

mess

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The apartment is like some sort of musical war zone right now… all of my guitars are out and about and the electric’s case is lying open right in front of the bathroom. Meanwhile, the amp has struck out a position exactly in the middle of the floor with it’s cord racing under the coffee table to connect with my bass, which is seated comfortable on the couch. My acoustic is thrown over the other arm of the sofa, and inbetween the two instruments my cd book is flipped open to the Peter Mulvey page. On the coffee table there’s some Bowie cds, my computer speakers, my cd walkman, an Ani DiFranco sheet music book, and a box of guitar picks. One speaker is connected to my computer (another cross-room cord) and the other is plugged into the walkman. My stereo is hovering slightly in front of the door as if anticipating a visitor, and behind it the amp is plugged into the wall (usurping my cd changer for the time being). Only Matt’s 5-string bass has managed to stay safely tucked away in the bedroom, awash in a certain fear that it might be called into action if my attention rests on it for more than a moment. Happily, my bedroom door is closed … there’s a whole other mess in there to deal with.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2000/12/1821009/

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Matt and I just cleaned. The whole process is really an exercise in futility because i know for a definite fact that i have more stuff than we have room to put it. Despite having thrown out two trash bags worth of discarded handouts and totally reorganizing my bookshelf the overwhelming lack of space remains an inescapable fact of my life. It’s likely that i could live in an apartment where all the walls were lined with shelves and i still would have a pile of something on the floor. However, it would be a smallish pile of something unimportant, which is why shelves turn me on so much.

Semi-pornographic obsessions with furniture aside, the apartment is clean right now. Clean. Saving me from celebrating in any fashion (perhaps through sleep?) there’s also easily my weight’s worth of miscellany covering the whole of my bed, which i’ll obviously have to displace in order to sleep tonght. I have repeatedly bemoaned my unescapable bulk of possessions, but i haven’t ever addressed why i own what i own. Frankly, i’m obsessed with material things; I wish i could just have some massively easy catchall mechanism to organize every little scrap of paper and ball of fluff that i want to keep. Sadly there is no mechanism available to me that would do just that, and i’m not nearly organized enough to be able to make good use of it.

My material possessions fall into three categories: things i use or might use, thinks i need or might need, and things i can’t throw out. The first category includes things like my entire cd, book, and comic book collections, which i could easily condense down so that they would fit onto my shelf space (but what would be the fun of that?). The second category includes clothing, half of which just endlessly sits in my drawers hopelessly relegated to being the bottom layer (and with no rhyme or reason, so that some of my favourite clothes fall out of rotation for months at a time because they were the first ones i folded after doing the wash). The third category features the aforementioned balls of fluff and also includes paperclips, half used pencils, and playbills from every play i’ve been a part of or seen. I generally wouldn’t mind throwing out everything that fits into this category, but generally i’m afraid to because all of it is is marginally useful or important in that way where it’s never actually useful or important.

Today fit into that last category, by the way. And i can’t even end it by going to sleep on my own damned bed.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2000/12/1696365/

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When i spend a weekend at home, the place turns into a cyclone ravaged wasteland. Matt told me he wouldn’t be home until tomorrow… and so i wasted no time in leaving everything i could on the floor and in the hallway. When left to my own devices for a weekend i tend to enter my residence and start shedding stuff as i make my way to the couch or bed. After two or three such sheds, the apartment looks either like it was ransacked or like it played host to a rather rambunctious threesome (or foursome) who couldn’t wait to get into the bedroom to get naked. Of course, neither of those things ever happens in my apartment. Yep, it’s just me in here….

https://crushingkrisis.com/2000/10/1202993/