This has been a very productive weekend of unpacking my books, records, and ephemra — and deleting some stuff in the process — excluding old journals from the previous, oh, 22 years. A memory of a prescient entry on a flight back from Spain in January 2002 came to mind:
"Slowly, slowly. Thoughts come back to me as I re-enter my Boston life… We have spent all day traveling… When we left Barcelona the moon was waning and birds were beginning to chirip in the morning....... well, I can’t quite call it light. I’m ready to see the rest of the world. I’m ready to give up what I have here if it means I can go further elsewhere. I am ready to drop the bullshit completely, and deflect — not reflect — the image-conscious, exterior, impersonable, fake, trendy, piss-ant-quality-minded folk I sometimes encounter, and stick to my guns for some real solid work and play. And while we’re on the matter, it probably isn’t so far away that I get rid of more stuff — stuff I think I will one day need or one day re-use… With a sharp mind I’ll be able to rely on it as experience-minder, and not need the object-based heavy sentimentality that comes with carrying around a lifetime of things.”