Wind Sock

'44" long wind sock. attach to a vertical pole and it will spin in the wind.'



The Social Contract, at its most basic, reads like this: "you don't fuck with me; I don't fuck with you." Capisce? This simple, originalist interpretation has long led me to the conclusion that wind chimes are an affront to mankind's attempts to create workable organization. The norms, needs, and niceties of community require that we don't willfully annoy others without some good goddamned reason. Wind chimes, however, say, "I have no qualms about imposing my need for constant noise upon you, without your consent." They suggest, "My 'New Age' spirituality is primarily a form of aggression." They declare, "I am a sociopath."

The wind sock is but the wind chime of the eye.

Oak Media Center

Sweet! Room for my 30" x 30" x 30" low-def 1997 Hitachi TV, and it's hide-able behind attractive woodgrain doors! You know, sometimes I don't want it to look like TV is the center of my universe, so I need to discreetly disguise my addiction as a giant wooden box that could have *anything* in it. Who knows what I'm storing there? Not you, girl I just brought home after meeting in the aisles at Best Buy! Not you!

I also like all the DVD storage. Why? Well, my TV may be a little out-of-date, but DVD's are the way of the future! I look forward to years of adding to my DVD collection, with pristine visuals, and none of that VHS-tape-losing-contact-with-the-tape-heads-blue-screen bullshit I've put up with for so long. They're the perfect media. Have you ever had trouble with a DVD? Shut up, you're lying. Man, it's fantastic here in the future, and this media center, my new technological home base, is going to serve me well for years.

Sure, I've heard about wi-fi, streaming enabled, box-and-storage-media-free, 70" LCD screens that stick two inches out from the wall, and that seems fine:



. . . but where's the oak? That's something you just can't replace.

Recliner Chair

Look, I know what you're thinking. You're looking at the seat of the chair and thinking, "holy hell, someone not only died in that chair, they decomposed in it for weeks!" You are mistaken. The chair's former resident died in the hospital. He merely soiled himself repeatedly for years in the chair. Stop being so dramatic and take it.

"Reclines, Swivels"

But that's just the beginning. It also "causes itching," "makes eyes water," and "ruins rooms."

Work Bench

Does your work involve stitching together crude pigeon-dog hybrids? Insect racing? Mold husbandry?

I suppose a corollary to "to each his own" is, "to someone, this work bench."

Ramp - Skateboard or Wheelchair

Fun! I mean, necessary for making my way out of my home, which would otherwise be my prison. Rad! Or utilitarian. Frontside grind! Maybe just a cautious roll down to the sidewalk. Axle stall! Again, I think more of a cautious roll is in order.

But you know what? Ultimately, we don't have to decide. Here's the ramp:

I guess this could be a skateboard ramp, for someone in a wheelchair, with the skateboard in their lap.

The Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name

There are many frightening, repeating categories of objects on the CL free section. Every day brings more broken concrete ("use for fill!"), obsolete projection TV's ("50 inches, and only 400 lbs."), and dying palm trees ("you dig, you take"). But there is no more persistent, frequent and depressing category than . . . the loveseat. If you take one of these, love will be forever beyond your grasp. It will be a faint wish, bubbling up between the regular inhalations of computer duster fumes that always fail to alleviate your pain. Love will be dead to you, and you to it.

But hey, it's FREE!

I bring you a suite of loneliness seats:

MODERN ART

"If you would like it, please tell me your phone number and why you want the picture. After the item is given away, I will delete all correspondence that comes to me.... I ask for these things to determine whom I will invite to my home for my safety and that of my family. Thank you."

Some possibilities:

"I want it to record for posterity how little was required at the beginning of the 21st Century for something to be designated 'art.'" [threat level - uncertain, what does "posterity" mean?]

"I want to use it as a coaster. I am 28 feet tall and drink from three-gallon cups." [threat level - surprisingly low, 28 foot tall people are easy to spot and apprehend]

"I will shoot it. It has a bulls-eye quality to it that inspires the marksman in me." [threat level - medium, has guns, but is accurate]

"It's beautiful. I want it to make my home a more aesthetically pleasant place to live." [threat level - high, is insane]

Abstrax, from the East Bay

Since I'm going to open up the blog a bit, a new delight is artists selling their work on craigslist. Here's a great, um, "artist's statement":

"Hi, I've made a new genre of art, since I see a modern trend for pop art, but I like abstract art as well. Tend to be ahead of trends. I've predicted trends in music, business for some time."

There's so much going on here. Hubris. Optimism. Insanity. I may want to support this gentleman/woman, but first I'm going to need to see a List of Trends Predicted. I worry, though. How will I tell if they were predicted, rather than post-hoc noted? Photos of prediction being made next to that day's newspaper, you say? Interesting. This art-buying thing is complex.

Microwave

"I used this microwave for many years before it stopped working. Maybe you can fix it and get use out of it."

Or maybe I could buy a new one for $50 or so and be spared: (1) the residue of your many years of use, and (2) the danger of fixing it wrong.

Baby steps, folks. I think I'll bring the blog back, but I may use it for purposes beyond free-stuff-mocking. Perhaps the occasional parable . . .