Every afternoon I get an email from Ebay alerting me to new items that match my interest to previous items I have been interested in, including, but not limited to: Hot Wheels, Dungeons and Dragons rulebooks, transportation tokens, aspirin tins, poetry books, Spiderman comics, The Monster Club, Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things, Zombiethon, Shock Waves, silver, copper, and nickel bullion, and Mont Blanc pens.
It's good to have interests in life. Hobbies. Collections.
I used to do Sears delivery, and was inside several peoples' homes every day for a few years, and I was astounded by how little people had that distinguished them from the next person. Now you could say I didn't really see where they kept their most private possessions and items they didn't want anyone else to see, but I saw enough to get the sense there wasn't much else going on besides what I saw out in the open. I was behind and underneath and in enough unusual places to know I'd seen enough to get an idea who lived here and what they considered important.
I never saw journals or collections or studies brimming with books and personal mementos gathered during a lifetime of travel, experience, and contemplation.
Mostly I just saw a VHS copy of the movie Independence Day. I'd have to say that movie was the most common item in all those years. Every house seemed to have it, and someone appeared to have watched it recently.
I like that Ebay shows a daily concern about the collections I curate and wants me to complete some of my ridiculous collections sometime in the coming
Perhaps the thing I lost that was most painful to me was my burgundy Mont Blanc meisterstuck pen. I had bought it in the late 90's at Office Max for $119 and adored it's balance and the smooth, equal amount of ink the ballpoint cartridge exuded. Perfect. And beautiful. I had to Ebay mine when I moved into this apartment because I had lost everything. I needed money for food and to get the utilities turned on. The saddest thing about my life was I had nothing left of value. Except plasma. I got a very fair amount for the pen. More than I had paid for it, in fact, as the meisterstuck now costs almost three times as much to buy new. I suppose my circumstances are that I could buy one right now online, but this one was bought to reward myself for publishing my second book of poetry, and even though they all look the same, that one was mine.
I'll buy another one, eventually. And perhaps I'll live long enough for that one to replace the memory of the other. These things happen. Lessons that things are just things. Or perhaps the opposite lesson: that things are damn important and should be cherished.