I’m house sitting a dear pal’s loft while he and his family sup and sip their way through the south of France. He’s lived here for twenty years and everywhere the eye lands tells a story from his life. He has lived an interesting life. Interesting people tend to do that. I’m always curious about what people read, so I immediately began perusing the books. The bookshelf reveals our secret self, or presents a carefully edited profile to the world. I wasn’t really expecting to find any secrets, we’ve known each other a long time, but I was happy to recognize a few titles I read back when we lived together after University. His copies of J.G. Ballard’s Crash and Charles Bukowski’s Ham on Rye, were my introduction to both authors. There are also a few pieces of art and knick knacks that I remember living with, some have new frames, some have more dust, but they all tell a story of this person.
My story is currently an unbound manuscript sitting in a box in Los Angeles. In ten days I will begin a major edit. In ten days I will begin clearing out the storage unit and deciding what items will continue to represent this life story. It is a daunting task because I mean to lighten my load considerably. When did the load get so burdensome? How did it? 
My pal has an eclectic collection of Homer Simpson inspired items. Given that the show is in its twenty-third season he’s lucky he’s not overrun with Homer clutter. Of course friends have come up with alternate gift ideas over the years. Maybe that explains the collection of rubber duckies.
The majority of my hoarding is books. When I moved to Los Angeles I brought clothes and a couple of boxes of personal effects but I left my books with my sister. In time I re-aquired throw cushions, candle holders, assorted tchotchkes and even new books. But for two years I pined for my book collection. When we were united I felt complete again. There were some titles I knew I’d never read again and there were some I’d forgotten I’d read, but they all were reminders of various chapters in my story. Books are not an easy thing to move under any circumstance. I have at least three times the books I had when I started my LA story. I’ve already purged some but I’m going to have to purge more.
So, if half our acquired shit are actually memories, can I delete the physical item without deleting the memory? Certainly the memory isn’t deleted, but the hard drive is so full, can I trust I can find it without an icon? Isn’t that what all the photos and tchotchkes are, the external hard drive we keep so our operating systems aren’t overburdened. In ten days I’m going to downsize from a desk top to a Macbook by reducing a three bedroom house to a car and a trailer.
How ruthless can I be with the memories?
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