Chugging Past Collectivist Consumerism

One of the weirdest pitfalls of consumerism is collectivism. Nearly everyone I know who owns a house has a room for junk filling. In some cases, an extra room just for storage is a huge plus when shopping for a new home. Those that aren't so lucky rent one of those dozens of Armored Storage cells, surrounded by barbed wire and guarded 24-7 by rent-a-cops and surveillance cameras.

Day Six: Rubberneck

A mist of rain descended in the night. Had some disturbing dream about indestructible aliens.

Drove. Drove drove drove drove. Trying to find the past. Traveled 130 miles, took 118 pictures. I am a horrible driver mostly because I rubberneck all the time. I just love exploring, it's what I'm used to. Kept looking for decaying barns and road fauna. I think I got some good shots, especially the one of the dead porcupine. Yech.

Bottle neck: Found someone's collection in the basement. Just a shoebox full of really old Coca-Cola memorabilia. Not sure any of it is worth money. More than anything, it scares me. What kind of person finds fascination in coupons and advertisements for Coke? Worship of this kind is disturbing.

I find collections like this all the time. I pick and choose what I like. Everything I own is a collaboration of a million collections I've found in dumpsters, thrift stores, the street. Of Coke guy's stuff I kept the baseball cards and the advertisements which I will scan and use for my artistic devices. Then I'll probably burn it.

I also found a bunch of postcards covered in "modern art" (circa 1970). They are beautiful and poignant. I want to write nasty messages on them and mail them to politicians. And also keep them. And also leave the here. Deliver me from clever art. Found some books on art galleries too.

Watched Bravehart. What a ridiculous film. It was good, but I could never take it seriously. My mind was elsewhere, couldn't escape from some harrowing thought. Damn that dream.