Today I have felt like something between Santa Claus and an ancient Viking king. Interesting that I never noticed until now that Viking has the word king in it already. Either way, I have spent my day giving my possessions freely, mostly because I notice that anyone will take anything that is free, where paying $1 for it would be absurd and without moral standing. It’s amazing that the woman I felt the worst for, the one that took my microwave, was the only one that decided to give me money, probably because she accutely sensed she was robbing me. Giving away a microwave used maybe a dozen times seems too much, I guess, so unlike Santa or Sigmund, I have Andrew Jackson letting me know I have completed a transaction with capitalistic pride. Materialistic prostitution, really. Well, “wild living” followed by some unintended prostitution, I guess.
It is interesting - I posted some things with actual prices connected with them, and none of them are of any interest to the whole of Portland and beyond. And, I see in hindsight how I probably could have asked money for things like a DVD player and a microwave and a TV, but why perpetuate the notion of the value of material things when it’s not necessary? Loaded philosophical question, I realize. Value, necessary, material… how ridiculous am I to the phenomenologists? Probably a bit.
In unrelated news, I updated my Facebook status to reflect my relational connection to Goldie Lobs. Annie once told me that a Facebook status update was more important than consumating the marriage. It’s truly an interesting thought. Interesting enough, that I actually called the woman of all loveliness herself to confirm that it was fine that I intertwine our Facebook destinies in so jarring a fashion. So, even though I would like it to be a joke (Facebook, not my love of Goldie Lobs), it shows that I actually give it a level of significance that I was not immediately prepared to admit. The joke, apparently, is on me.
Well, I need to go to bed. Maybe I spent the day giving away stuff instead of packing because it was just another way to put off packing until I “have to”. Just theories. That’s all this really is, mostly, sorta… kinda… “and he wears T-shirts… sometimes?”
From unserious to dissilly, for a final thought thanks to tonight’s reading:
“Between the superhuman and the inhuman, is there no place for the human?” - Simone de Beauvoir, c. 1949