vultures

if you ever need evidence that we have all been successfully moulded into consuming machines, hold a garage sale.

after a night spent on great conversation that ended at 5am, i rose to the sound of my doorbell @ 830am. exhausted, i refused to get out of bed, all my signs said it started at 10am anyway.

around 930 am, i finally dressed myself and trudged down the stairs. peeking out the front window, i saw what looked like a scene from a romero flick... people scattered around my driveway, standing alone, in silence, staring blankly at the garage door as if a hard enough stare might open it. my mom said there'd be early birds, but she didn't tell me the early birds could fill a football stadium. i got a chill up my spine. as i opened my front door, all heads turned in my direction in unison. spooked, i told them i'd open the garage in a moment.

when i did open the garage, i saw the most vulgar display of what fear-based marketing and consumer conditioning has sunk us to. it was like that game we used to play when we were kids, musical chairs. when the music stops, the mad scramble to get one's ass in a seat for fear of elimination is furious with elbowing and pushing... the vultures in my driveway slammed into each other and slid under the garage door before it was even half open and tried to get their hands to simply touch the first things that caught their eyes - hands crashed down on sofas, weight sets, record players and someone had already begun sifting through a box of my old files, with bills and medical records and report cards - a box i had meant to take inside so i could shred the contents. i stood there, on 3 and a half hours of sleep, a zombie myself, stunned, horrified and thought to myself, i should have just gave it to the salvation army... it was going to be a long day.

if the idea of a garage sale is to simply get rid of junk, mine was a success. we got rid of all the big stuff, thank God - moving from a 5 bedroom mansion to a 2 bedroom condo means more downsizing than even conrad black is capable of. i didn't make too much money and there was a pile of little shit leftover. frozen, my helpers and i decided to flip the sign, write "free stuff" and just leave it out all night. it worked, my yard looks as though it's been ravaged by racoons, but everything is gone with the exception of my brothers waterbed mattress, two autographed game hockey sticks, and a bunch of pillows i had somehow obtained over the years that felt a little more like slabs of marble.

the absolute shit people will buy is fucking phenomenal. someone actually asked to pay for a tiny box a ring had come in that someone gave me, that was made of cardboard and stained. i told her to take it. i tremble when i think of what her house might look like.

the real flooring moment though, was the realization that at some point in my life, *i* had purchased this shizzzy. clearly i have not been listening to mike's taoist simplification sentiments.

Currently listening: Ancient Melodies of the Future By Built to Spill

posted by Courtney at 10:25 a.m.

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