11.9 tape  

this week i gave away most of my tapes... a gentle purge of unnecessary stuff.

i have two boom boxes here, but their tape players have gone bad. they whirr and screech and squeal like slaughterhouse pigs. and i haven't had a tape player in my car for two years past. most of these 200-some cassettes have gone unplayed for even longer. they slept in a large box in the other room amid dust, dead flies, dormant christmas decorations, and my other untouched joliet moving boxes.

looking at those boxes i remember how unsettled i still must be - am - even after three years. if i were as settled as i could be, much of the stuff in those boxes would be out on the walls and shelves around me, the kind of Museum of Me that most of our places become. but the boxed life reminds me of my semi-nomadic status.... and how much i hate it.... how much i need it... better to move and become a distant memory... a dream... than to stay and become an invisible object... a rock.

no. i am not moving again - i am just thinking about it. i don't want to move again in the near future. but i am realiziing that in some ways - vague even to me - i have not really moved in to this place yet. and that's kind of freaky. what am i waiting for? the other foot? the next earthquake? ("Don't love it so well, Clark, or it may be taken from you.")

so i stumbled into this big box of tunes and decided... maybe it was my recent reading of thoreau, but i doubt it. maybe it's just time to divest. i think i woke up last sunday out of a dream or something... just knowing that i had to give this stuff away... that it would be a good thing to do... still...

there was a little sadness in it. as i sifted through hands full of cassettes, i remembered how much this music mattered... like that day pat and i sailed down highway 61 into the heart of mississippi delta blues country with (blasphemy!) morrissey's "viva hate" wailing and whining... like jumping and shouting with muddy's blues (you can't imagine me jumping and shouting , can you?)... like knocking myself out on sweet schubert tunes for the very first time just because angela carter wrote of their power to tame wild beasts... which they did... and do.

all this would come to mind as i noted which tapes these students would pluck up and cart off. goodbye... goodbye.... and i would smile because i knew - or hoped - that somebody was going to discover some very coolstrangenew sounds in their own fresh contexts... in cars with friends, alone in a room...

an accumulation of stuff may be one of the most noticeable features of human living... in our time... in our place. no longer citizens, we are consumers. this is our most significant and valuable civic function. we shop. we acquire stuff, welcome it, unwrap it, appreciate it, despair of it, desire it, and shop again. as citizens and true patriots, our most profound duty is to keep the economy running smoothly (i.e. fuel the desire of the hoplessly wealthy whose dream we are) by desiring all of this useless crap... which we mistake for beauty... for that which is worthy of our desire... i wonder what is worthy of our desire.


Is it not strange that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies?

William Shakespeare

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