Cassingles of Doom!
The summer of 1989 was mental. I was approaching my final year in college, working for the District Attorney's office in my hometown and playing rugby on the weekends. Loads of drinking. On weekends when we didn't have a rugby tournament, my friends and I would occasionally head down to Cape Cod for a weekend of frolicking on the beaches and dancing in the streets of Hyannis, as the lyric goes. Milli Vanilli was massive that summer and I'm not too proud to cop to buying a cassingle of Blame It On The Rain. Without exploring the hows and whys of this revelation, suffice to say that my Milli Vanilli cassingle hasn't seen the light of day since that summer. That said, in the ensuing years, I would move to Chicago, Stockholm, Boston, back to Chicago, back to Boston and finally to San Diego for a grand total of 17 separate moves. The houses, girlfriends and dogs have changed, but one unwavering constant has been that cassingle. As I type this sentence, it continues its mushroom-like existence, withering in a darkened closet in one of the unused bedrooms, stacked in a cardboard box full of cassettes and CDs that haven't enjoyed the exquisite touch of a human hand since Bill Clinton was running the show.I have two closets full of junk. Shit I haven't used, beheld or considered for years, and yet I hold onto it all. When I attempt to fathom why I hang onto these items, I consistently come up with a singular reason - because I might need it someday. I might need that law school diploma on the top shelf of my closet. I might need that crappy little portable speaker that I bought for the beach one day and that I haven't used since. Likewise those blank CDs, drum sticks, papers and yes, CDs and cassettes. I haven't owned a cassette player for twenty years and the last time I put on a CD for playing music was in my old Pathfinder, two cars ago. If I'm being honest, the reason I continue to give space to my Milli Vanilli cassingle and its antiquated brethren is that my brain tells me that someday I might find myself possessed of a desperate need for it- maybe there will be a run on Milli Vanilli memorabilia someday, when auction houses will be trading Girl You Know It's True .45s for hundreds of thousands of dollars! Yeah, I don't really believe that either, but I've discovered that I allow myself certain lies and delusions to sidestep the need to change my behavior. Because underneath that all is a mentality of lacking - that not keeping these things might someday lead to ruin and regret. It feels absurd to simply write that sentence and yet it's the truth.This weekend I publicly vowed - on camera, no less - to clear out these two closets, once and for all. It feels good to simply commit to it, but more than that, my hope is that the task might initiate a broader process of decluttering my home. I'm hoping that by liberating myself (and my dogs) from so much wasteful detritus that I can conjure a new, freer energy in the home. Whenever I visit somebody's home who's decorated according to feng shui, there's an inescapable sense of lightness and creativity in the air that I don't feel in my own home. Not to that extent, at least. And so at the very least, I'll be enriching somebody else's life by taking these to the animal shelter thrift store and placing them back into circulation. My hope is that the benefits prove far greater and that as I dive headlong into a new writing regimen, my thoughts and words will arrive with an exhilarating new freedom and that I can shift my worldview away from one of fear and lack and just be cool with whatever's in front of me.I sort of feel like I should have some sort of ceremony, where I play a bunch of tunes from these old CDs and cassettes. One last spin for auld lang syne and all that shit. But of course, I don't have a cassette player. And yes, I briefly entertained the idea of running out to buy one. You know, just in case I need it someday.