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[Originally posted elsewhere December 30, 2006]
Seriously. I'm baking brownies and I added a couple of splashes of white creme de cacao. (And I'm a little buzzed because I have no tolerance for alcohol and I just finished licking the bowl. Yeah, I know, it's ridiculous. I'm not drunk though, just a little looser.)
But I've got other stuff I need to get rid of. It's insane, I have bunches and bunches and bunches of stuff that I'm keeping because I know there are other people out there who would be happy to have it. The problem is, I don't know who they are.
It's X Files stuff,i, mostly, and some Starsky & Hutch stuff. Pat was a True Believer, she loved The X Files long after I fell away from it. But we bought every fucking magazine—you know, the ones that had "The truth is in here!" on the cover. Yeah, guys, clever the first time, but you're not the first. Pat kept scrap books, and bought artwork and action figures, and trading cards, and I don't know what all. I have a bunch of the pro tapes. And there's a 1997 desk diary sitting here next to me right now. I have no idea if she ever wrote in it or not, though I suppose I could look.
I'm not saving it because it was Pat's. There are things I am saving because they were Pat's, but I've thrown things of hers away, and I've given away things of hers—given them thoughtfully, to close friends, and given them just to get them out of the house, to AmVets. I don't think AmVets would want a bunch of X Files scrapbooks, or a ten year old desk diary. The tapes, though, I could probably sell.
I keep thinking, every time I look at it, that there are things out there I would kill to have, things other people have thrown away, and I hate waste, and I hate the idea of throwing away things other people might want.
OK, the brownies are done. Between the creme de cacao and chocolate chips, it's very possible it might make me begin to levitate, so if you don't hear from me for a while, that's probably why.
[I gave the tapes to my cousin. The brownies are gone. The rest is still here.]
Seriously. I'm baking brownies and I added a couple of splashes of white creme de cacao. (And I'm a little buzzed because I have no tolerance for alcohol and I just finished licking the bowl. Yeah, I know, it's ridiculous. I'm not drunk though, just a little looser.)
But I've got other stuff I need to get rid of. It's insane, I have bunches and bunches and bunches of stuff that I'm keeping because I know there are other people out there who would be happy to have it. The problem is, I don't know who they are.
It's X Files stuff,i, mostly, and some Starsky & Hutch stuff. Pat was a True Believer, she loved The X Files long after I fell away from it. But we bought every fucking magazine—you know, the ones that had "The truth is in here!" on the cover. Yeah, guys, clever the first time, but you're not the first. Pat kept scrap books, and bought artwork and action figures, and trading cards, and I don't know what all. I have a bunch of the pro tapes. And there's a 1997 desk diary sitting here next to me right now. I have no idea if she ever wrote in it or not, though I suppose I could look.
I'm not saving it because it was Pat's. There are things I am saving because they were Pat's, but I've thrown things of hers away, and I've given away things of hers—given them thoughtfully, to close friends, and given them just to get them out of the house, to AmVets. I don't think AmVets would want a bunch of X Files scrapbooks, or a ten year old desk diary. The tapes, though, I could probably sell.
I keep thinking, every time I look at it, that there are things out there I would kill to have, things other people have thrown away, and I hate waste, and I hate the idea of throwing away things other people might want.
OK, the brownies are done. Between the creme de cacao and chocolate chips, it's very possible it might make me begin to levitate, so if you don't hear from me for a while, that's probably why.
[I gave the tapes to my cousin. The brownies are gone. The rest is still here.]