With the new apt, I'm finding myself making more and more trips to the locker, looking to free up various of my possessions & ornaments, while the flat may only last 6 months, I want it to be a comfortable 6 months.
The locker, Stygian, boxes piled high and falling on my head, stereos, boxes of cuff-links raining down, watches in chests, a surprising number of chests, trunks and suitcases for somebody with no discernible organizational skills. It's like, in a way, attending the best garage sale ever, in every box a forgotten treasure or surprise, but inaccessibly packed beneath, behind another, art supplies - paints, easels, mixed media Starbucks cards, buttons, postage stamps, postcards, boxes of vintage neckties, buckets of rocks, prospecting equipment, stray pots and pans, working my way to the back where - if I can reach it - I can free up a few paintings to ornament my walls.
I'm within 5 feet, but it's a towering 5 feet, dozens of boxes will have to be moved to the apartment, reorganized, repacked, and the last 3 lean years, with no more possessions than I could fit in my car, well, they've made me question the necessity of storage, this endless acquisition of momentarily useless clutter, my thoughts are broken by the distant tinkle of glass as another box shifts, ...
It's Aladdin's cave, in a way, and in another less subtle way it's become the metaphor for my subconscious, the unending work of organization, editing, cleaning and purging, and it scares me almost as much as 2 hits of acid at clown and puppet festival, but I'll get it done...