November 15, 2007
Forage
Though according to a sign I passed this morning “Capitalism Sucks: Let’s Get Rid it It”, I remain rather entranced by consumerism. Though I don’t love shopping as a rule, I like things and their acquisition. If I were at home now, I’d pull out Woolf’s “The Oxford Street Tide” from The London Scene so I could remember the list of things she was so fascinated that one could actually buy– a tortoise was one. She saw it pointful to set across London in search of a pencil after all; Woolf liked things too. Tonight I’ve got an errand to purchase underwear and a teapot shaped like an elephant. Doesn’t the world just hold the most marvelous stuff?
I love things as well. It’s why I have too many books in the house, and in front of them are all manner of tchotchkes, big and small. Candles, and bobbleheads, and pez dispensers, and Victorian-copy teeny little tin boxes, and…
Oh boxes! One can never have too many. For the storage of, well, things of course. Minimalists’ houses are boring.