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I don't mind rainy afternoons, good for movie watching or reading or napping, nor do I mind rainy nights, good for sitting on porches or fcking, but I get uneasy about rainy mornings and rainy evenings. Something about the sun sitting lower in the overcast sky, something about my associations with these times of day -- don't leave me alone in the twilight, twilight is the loneliest time of day, though actually I don't always feel this way nearly as frequently as those song lyrics are lodged in my brain.
It's also extra depressing to go out into the alley and see all the remnants of the yard sale getting drenched and even more useless, including my collection of Remix magazines and random hip hop zines and the selection of records I put out there because I knew no store would buy them off of me. I know its just stuff, just items that passed on to me because of other owners who made no use of them and then I purged them because I had made no use of them, but knowing that the cycle is dead and now they will sit in some landfill makes me feel guilty.
A good number of appliances and lamps and furniture bits were taken by a salavage guy in a pickup truck yesterday afternoon. And all the clothes got bagged and boxed and carted over to some variation of a goodwill center. They might end up in garbage trucks too, but at least I don't have to see it happen.
It's strange, it's not like I'm mourning the loss of the actual stuff. More the sadness of getting to a point of having so much of it that is wasteful.
It's also extra depressing to go out into the alley and see all the remnants of the yard sale getting drenched and even more useless, including my collection of Remix magazines and random hip hop zines and the selection of records I put out there because I knew no store would buy them off of me. I know its just stuff, just items that passed on to me because of other owners who made no use of them and then I purged them because I had made no use of them, but knowing that the cycle is dead and now they will sit in some landfill makes me feel guilty.
A good number of appliances and lamps and furniture bits were taken by a salavage guy in a pickup truck yesterday afternoon. And all the clothes got bagged and boxed and carted over to some variation of a goodwill center. They might end up in garbage trucks too, but at least I don't have to see it happen.
It's strange, it's not like I'm mourning the loss of the actual stuff. More the sadness of getting to a point of having so much of it that is wasteful.
