Letting Shite Go
Goodbye to more damaged cards. It was like youth sliding through my fingertips.

Goodbye to more damaged cards. It was like youth sliding through my fingertips.

I have decided to let the 1990s go.

I have decided to let the 1990s go.

It took a lot of effort just to skim through this book. I am proud to let it go.

It took a lot of effort just to skim through this book. I am proud to let it go.

What if all it takes is a shower? While rinsing the shampoo from your hair Sam Beam sings that it’s like a message from God, and you hear that message as David Byrne yells from somewhere in the distance, the distance inside your head, “My God, what have I done?” and you open the shower curtain and suddenly this isn’t your beautiful house and these aren’t your worn books, and the adrenaline flows like a loosed fire hydrant and your heart pounds against your chest like a V-8 rumbling at a red light in your childhood and suddenly everything is so so wrong. But, it’s trash in someone else’s heap, someone who walked into that shower and not the person who walked out. And you push it all out into the hall and sit down in the empty, just you and the dust bunnies the glimmer of everything that could be, sitting in a ray of warm bright hope shining directly from God onto the spot where you sit, and you breath and you start over. 

There used be over twenty thousand baseball cards in my possession. Thanks to a fire at my mother’s home last year I’m down to a few thousand and most of those have water and smoke damage. It’s only been my reluctance to let go that has kept me from culling through them to pull out anything protected with sleeves and still of any value.  Slowly this is happening and today this stack of 1988 Donruss cards found their way from a shelf by the door to the trash can. 
Mostly though, these cards represent the single obsession of my teenage years. Thousands of hours were spent opening wax packs, chewing stale gum, sorting and cataloging each card to maintain an inventory that was constantly lost in the bowels of my insipid Commodore 64 and it’s penchant for erasing disks. 

There used be over twenty thousand baseball cards in my possession. Thanks to a fire at my mother’s home last year I’m down to a few thousand and most of those have water and smoke damage. It’s only been my reluctance to let go that has kept me from culling through them to pull out anything protected with sleeves and still of any value.  Slowly this is happening and today this stack of 1988 Donruss cards found their way from a shelf by the door to the trash can. 

Mostly though, these cards represent the single obsession of my teenage years. Thousands of hours were spent opening wax packs, chewing stale gum, sorting and cataloging each card to maintain an inventory that was constantly lost in the bowels of my insipid Commodore 64 and it’s penchant for erasing disks. 

Purchased Dec 1995 for $1.00 at the college library book sale. This was a discarded book from my college library. After finally reading I can not say they made a bad choice. Mr. Ransom has a great styled poetry and a ginormous vocabulary. After about 40 pages today I started just writing down words to define later. Here are some examples:  perruquiers, chevelure, paternoster, dithyramb, jennet, fumiter, sward, and asphodel. I plan to increase my level of interest to others by using these in cocktail party conversations soon. 

Purchased Dec 1995 for $1.00 at the college library book sale. This was a discarded book from my college library. After finally reading I can not say they made a bad choice. Mr. Ransom has a great styled poetry and a ginormous vocabulary. After about 40 pages today I started just writing down words to define later. Here are some examples:  perruquiers, chevelure, paternoster, dithyramb, jennet, fumiter, sward, and asphodel. I plan to increase my level of interest to others by using these in cocktail party conversations soon. 

I have no idea when or where this book came from. It was a short read and mildly funny and is now released into the wild on a bus stop bench. 

I have no idea when or where this book came from. It was a short read and mildly funny and is now released into the wild on a bus stop bench. 

This is an old copy and was almost falling apart. Inside were no markings for where or when it was purchased so I’m assuming it was an early thrift store buy in college. Still, I read it today and released it in front of my apartment building.  There are books you read, and reread, and never understand. And there are those that sometime your mind is finally prepared to receive. Today was that day. It was as if every page was a lesson, whether in creativity, love, being too serious, or death even. As I walked down the street I considered seriously for a minute what it would take to memorize this book. I look forward to grabbing a copy from the library some time in the future and giving it a reread. 

This is an old copy and was almost falling apart. Inside were no markings for where or when it was purchased so I’m assuming it was an early thrift store buy in college. Still, I read it today and released it in front of my apartment building.  There are books you read, and reread, and never understand. And there are those that sometime your mind is finally prepared to receive. Today was that day. It was as if every page was a lesson, whether in creativity, love, being too serious, or death even. As I walked down the street I considered seriously for a minute what it would take to memorize this book. I look forward to grabbing a copy from the library some time in the future and giving it a reread. 

In my memory this book was purchased during a junior high trip to Washington D.C. and came from the store in Ford’s Theatre. I could be wrong about that. The copyright was 1968 and it had no newer markings so it is possible.  It’s a Scholastic book and written for children. I still read it today before releasing it at the library. 

In my memory this book was purchased during a junior high trip to Washington D.C. and came from the store in Ford’s Theatre. I could be wrong about that. The copyright was 1968 and it had no newer markings so it is possible.  It’s a Scholastic book and written for children. I still read it today before releasing it at the library. 

This is a silly green bunny. I don’t remember when she gave it to me, but as you’ll see on the tag, it came from Mama. She usually signed things “Mother” and only said “Mama” when she would leave a voicemail. She would almost sing “Hi xxxx this is your Mama….” Like anything she gave me I held onto it pretty closely. It would be a lie to say I didn’t sleep with this bunny after she died. I took the tag off and have it in a baseball card sleeve and it shall stay with me a little longer at least. I don’t remember why she bought this. It wasn’t anything special, but probably just a cute cheap bunny she saw at the dollar store and thought she would get for me. Fucking tears.