Nothing could be more god awful that "downsizing". I can imagine being nibbled away by African ants or being forced to deal with Bangladeshi internet server tech support people for a week. This is at least my 4th rendition of "downsizing". Today, on my second trip to the free porch and my third dumpster trip, I realized that downsizing is actually a dirty nasty horrible four letter word. Now forever known as "DNSZ. Your pronunciation may vary. I will save the normal rant about buying and rebuying and duplication and all that. What I realized today was I am the slave to all this shit I can't make myself get rid of. It's a simple question of who owns who? I am the complete slave to the crap that I own. The RV, the well pump, the main breaker box. they all have a piece of me. The worst part is any one of the 5 hammers I own will jump up and hit me in the face. The amount of Time I have invested in keeping things that I don't use or need or even want has hit me like a ton of obsolete photo gear. It owns me. I am in a war people. A fight to the death with so much bizarre junk I can't even tell you. Mutant vehicle burning man pieces, costumes, amazon death masks, slot machines, camel saddles, tools of all kinds, and camera gear. Years ago I had everything I owned stolen from a couple of huge storage units in Austin. I mean a 3 bedroom house with everything in huge storage units. Everything gone accept one suit and a canoe. And what I had in my truck. Where are those guys now? I mean when you need them. Any brave soul wanting to come on down to Terlingua and participate in the twilight zone of garage sales please come on down. Tomorrow, more of the same. Pain, anguish, and another trip to the dump and the free porch. Please rub the furry belly of the DNSZ god for me tonight.
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