Patti Smith/Source: gifake, flickr
The Persistence of Memory, Salvador Dali/source: tfs
Valeria Lazareva, Magnificent #6/source: Tobacco and Leather
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Last night I raided my family's overstuffed garage. One realizes just how much stuff we have when they see our house, neat and orderly and full of knick-knacks and such. Then they venture to the determinedly delapidated garaged and find tons of boxes, looms, stack of plastic bins with fabric, threads and clothing. We don't have nearly enough space for all of our memories.
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My hunt was specific enough. I wanted to find my Harry Potter books. It seemed simple enough anyway, once I got over the multitude of spider webs. My boyfriend and I spent almost two hours going through stuff. We checked every box and we didn't end up finding the books until right before we gave up. The funny thing, they were in a box at the very front of the garage.
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While in there I came across my inheritance. When my grandmother passed away almost 10 years ago the family held onto her record collection. There are tons of them. Well, my uncle was the keeper. He decided, upon my request, that I should have them. So now I have tons of old records. While in the garage I looked through some of them. I found a few Marlene Dietrich records, some Marilyn Monroe, a ton of classical compositions, a few Scottish bagpipes and some Billie Holiday. I cannot wait to bring them into the house for more proper inspection.
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The bad news? I am out a record player, having never fixed my old one. So now I have to save for a new one plus a decent stereo system. The things I do for music.
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How on Earth does this relate to the photos? I'm not sure. Except that I feel a bit of nostalgia. Or rather, a feeling of nostalgia for a time that I never got to experience (being born in the 90's sometimes feels like a huge mistake to me). Now that I feel properly melancholy about the things, I'll read some blogs, write a few poems and use up the last of my 35 mm film so I can get it developed.
