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About james

hoyden will follow the free tendencies of desire hoyden is a pill dropped in a glass of water hoyden is an illusion on a surface of memory hoyden is a finger resting on the controls of a broken machine hoyden turns as she pleases toward all horizons hoyden is perfect sadism, at least as a method hoyden is a beautiful chimera hoyden crouches to intercept shadows hoyden is not in the habit of saluting the dead hoyden will always find buyers hoyden is at most a thinking reed hoyden writes sad and ardent love letters hoyden is a door someone opened hoyden is a dark intention hoyden never waits for itself hoyden leaves an exquisite corpse

stuff

As I wade through the boxes I have in storage, I wonder why I keep all this stuff. I have too much stuff. When I was 19 I drove across country to start a new life with only as much stuff as would fit into my little Honda Civic hatchback. With room to spare.

When I think about how much stuff I have, I can not help but conjure up the image of the Junk Lady from the movie “Labyrinth” who carries her house and all her stuff on her back. She is bent over and wizened from the burden.

But…but… I need all my stuff! It’s important!

I have archaic technology taking up boxes, clothes I haven’t seen since 2002, newspaper article clippings, and a usb mouse I never used.

That stuff I can consolidate and give or throw away.

I also have boxes of my dad’s stuff. His old photo albums, writings, sketch books full of his doodles, letters he wrote to various friends and family…. How long do I keep that stuff? Forever? He is gone, but his stuff lives on in perpetuity? For what purpose?

At what point does stuff become a burden? I have a friend who purges every year. Okay, that’s her closet, but at least it’s something. I know we are supposed to keep tax forms for a multitude of years, but those old VHS tapes? How often are those boxed up items really used? If they haven’t been touched in a year, how important are they really?