... as many of you know, I am a lover of simple pleasures.... scratching the itch, per se... Hell, hedonistic even.. a blue sky.. a singing bird.. a sunset and a smoke... a large Scotch in the evenings.. a freshly grilled steak.. basic, but vital stuff...

... however, I do have another side.. a side that is objectively OCD... (don't most bloggers?)... and I often find myself clinging to small, yet significant things... for instance.. I smoke non-filtered Camel cigarettes... usually, my shirts don't have pockets.. in combating the fact that the cigarette packets get smashed and crumpled while in jeans, long ago I bought an old antique cigarette case... made circa 1921... so, when I head out on the town, I fill it up.. it snugly holds ten cigarettes and keeps them from harm... but, here is the thing.. I have carried this case in my pocket... every single day.. for over 8 years... my Zippo is much the same... I was gifted it for being Best Man at my Cousin's wedding in 1992... I've never lost it... never damaged it.. and it is still in my pocket these 12 years later... although once engraved with my initials, they have long since been erased by the constant polishing received from my needy fingers.. it may be worn, but it is still with me..

... the same focus can be applied to many other trinkets I own... my pocket-knife... my challenge coin... my leather wallet... things that I have in my pockets on any given day... they are usually small, dear things.... quite often shiny... and most have a story... either of how I found them, or how/when/why they were given to me...

... you know... in a way, I recognize that some underlying need must be present... something driving me to latch onto these mementos... wanting me to stay grounded in where I came from.. where I am going... and where I have been... like an Indian with his medicine bag, I suppose... a life's collection of mobile memories...

... one thing is for sure, though... the coroner who eventually empties my pockets will never even begin to understand the importance of the objects he places in that plastic bag...

by Eric on March 26, 2005 | Bullshit (8) | Psycho Rants
» Gut Rumbles links with: i know what he means
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Bullshit So Far

Hot damn, Eric! You become a better writer every day. Seriously.

Bullshitted by sadie on March 26, 2005 05:16 PM


The last thought you share above is very true. Carrying it a step further...my dad had a watch he wore most every day. I imagine it was of no significant value dollar-wise, but charished as a gift or for its consistent faithful service over the years.

Where it gained real value was when my mother passed it on to me. Every time I look at the shelf above my monitor there it sits, a constant reminder of my father an arm's reach away. Same thing when I have occasion to wear it, it is as if I were seeing time through my father's eyes. When there comes a time for your daily treasures to be dispersed, may they proudly serve as your totems to a future generation. There is powerful magic there, in what the foolish consider commonplace.

Bullshitted by Guy S on March 26, 2005 05:31 PM

I think it's awesome that you take value in the smaller momentos like that. The same lighter for 12 years, used daily. Yeah, I think you can be part of my OCD club. You'll certainly qualify! I'll email you the password and site :) Just kidding!

Bullshitted by Sheilah on March 26, 2005 07:34 PM

"...like an Indian with his medicine bag, I suppose... a life's collection of mobile memories..."

Damn, that's good.

Bullshitted by Jim - PRS on March 26, 2005 10:19 PM

A most excellent post...

Bullshitted by Boudicca on March 26, 2005 10:50 PM

Dude, I don't want to run your life, but unfiltered Camels were what my grandfather smoked until the day he died from lung cancer.

That is when I got his hammer... you remember that post...

We'd like to keep you around.

Bullshitted by Jack on March 27, 2005 02:23 AM

I know what you are saying. I've carried the same pocket knife for close to half my life now. It goes with me everywhere, and when I don't have it with me, I feel lost. And since 2000 I've been carrying the same gold sacejiewa (sp?) dollar. I wont spend it, but I still carry it. I don't know why, but I just feel better knowing it's in my pocket.

Bullshitted by Contagion on March 28, 2005 08:56 AM

Being in the Navy, having to move frequently, and having next to no storage space on the ship, I learned to let go of objects.


What I *really* learned was to use very SMALL objects as the touchstones that keep my life's memories alive. Except for my dress blues, my Navy memories take up about a cubic foot of space.

But every object in that pile overflows with the magic you speak of.

Bullshitted by Harvey on March 28, 2005 02:26 PM