This is the bottle from which Julia and I drank on the night we got together.
I'm so torn about these possessions. I love the idea of the post-materialist life: owning a computer, just enough clothes, a couple of pairs of shoes, that sort of thing.
Yet these memories are important to me. These mementos. Maybe I'm taking these photos so I can throw them out.
I love my books. I love the old ratty band t-shirts I wore when I was 15.
I lost me wallet a couple of months ago. Not because of what was in it (I don't really use cash and the cards were all replaceable) nor because of the quality of it (it was ratty as) but more because of the symbolic value of it. Like, I'd had it since I was 14-ish and it was great. Worked so well, held everything it needed to. It was present for so many memories, it accompanied me, ya know.
Anyway, I soon bought a new wallet. Of course, I found my old one pretty quickly after that, but I chucked it out because I was over it. We're all a little odd.
Mot's real shit, when it's rainy and nobody has a suitable venue for partying and everyone's grumpy because they're in Mot and all these people can't figure out what to do with their lives.
