Mummified Mementos

The calm before the storm. Now is the period of quiet reflection before the cardboard boxes are assembled and the packing popcorn creates a Styrofoam snow across the apartment floor. Ready to move but the lease isn't signed, yet.

I hate moving. Is there anyone who LOVES to move? If so get your ass over to my apartment on Sunday, February 5th. I'll pay you $40, free pizza and you'll be drunk as a skunk by the end of the day.

Dear readers, my apologies for lacking my typical flare in this post. The entire endeavor of taking inventory of my belongings, packing them into a cardboard coffin and then - ah… actually the process feels much like the ancient mythology associated with Egyptian mummification. The sarcophagus being a vessel of transition into a better life; an existence on a higher plane, in this case a kick ass new apartment. I am binding my belongings; be it gauze or bubble wrap.

Where is my cardboard box?

I endow everything around me with a spirit. I think I became a collector as a result of my mother's bizarre assortment of pig memorabilia. She owns nearly a trillion unique porcine statues of various materials: porcelain, crystal, stone, ceramic, wood, paper. I too enjoy keepsakes: old t-shirts and rocks and candle holders and glass bottles. My meager collection doesn't number in the trillions. Thankfully my father's minimalist living habits also greatly influenced my domestic choices, but still, part of me feels panic when faced with the task of, yes, trimming down my sizeable selection of sentimental junk.

Some decisions already made:

Keeping an old horn I found in the woods. Not a musical horn, but rather an animal's tusk. I'd guess it's a cow's horn, but I still like to believe it belongs to a dragon. A dragon who lived in the rural north Georgia mountains. I was twelve when I found it hiking. My dragon horn will be going to my new apartment.

Tossing my women's hats. I found a box of women's hats on the street and not only did I take them home but I actually wore them (with my friends) during a particularly riveting game of Clue. My favorite is the tiny widow's hat with a veil attached. Sadly I don't believe there's any need for women's hats in my life anymore. They'll be left in a box on the street. Perhaps some other dandy will put them to good use.

Keeping my glass bottles. Presently I own three glass bottles which hold a selection of dried flowers. They adorn my mantle and are quite unobtrusive.

Tossing the dried flowers held in the mentioned bottles. A delicate rose from a prior lover. A daisy from a particularly happy Spring day. The last flower of Winter from several years past. Old flowers offer a sense of introspection, but nature's beauty lies in it's ability to recreate itself. There will be more flowers available in Brooklyn. I look forward to making more memories.

Keeping: The brown corduroy winter coat I haven't worn for two winters because I keep postponing visiting a seamstress and having a pocket stitched up. But I'll keep it in the closet and swear to stitch it up this summer. It'll look absolutely wonderful (torn) in my closet next winter. Sigh.

Tossing Chip! Chip is an Abercrombie and Fitch poster I picked up while living in Atlanta. He hung on the wall of the house I was sharing at time, but during the course of his life at 797 Penn he moved from wall to wall and was often seen peeking from interior windows during parties. I was sad he never made it to a ceiling. Alas, Chip has seen better days. His circuit lifestyle has caught up with the him and too much Botox has rendered him completely unmovable. The jury is still out regarding a plan to crop part of him to preserve in a glass frame. Eh… I really need to toss him.

So many more decisions to make before the move. Dandies hate decisions.