I dug into some sorting of STUFF at home and was having a fine time. Clothes and old hats and dusty books, no prob. But I hit an impasse with CDs. I have a few hundred of them and a few dozen of those are easy donations to the library or trade-ins at the record store. But to REALLY LET GO of cds (obsolete music media form that I really don't use much anymore, you know the story) is tough.
I came to this conclusion: for many years, my cd collection was kind of my household shrine. If I didn't have a pot to piss in, or a half package of Hebrew Nationals to cut up in a batch of Kraft Mac and Cheese, I at least had my music collection. And I lived with it, and in it, and used it hard. They're scratched and probably not sellable and have dried salsa on the jewel cases. It fueled and inspired a lot of creative effort. I guess I identified with it, with all that music.
Now it's almost all available on my pocket computer--but I'm not on my pocket computer. I'm right here, with these things that still mean a lot. I'm thinking I'll shed quite a few but at the same time track down a nice cd boombox and make a chill spot for revisiting the ones I keep, maybe with a guitar in my hand. Kind of like in first grade when we had The Reading Rocket--which was actually an old bathtub with carpet in it. It was a cool deal when you got to have a book jam in there.
That was back when phones were ON THE WALL.
