I’m on the floor, next to my bed, covered in dust and pennies and pens– three things I seem to horde in mass quantities– and sorting through the last two years of my life. I am trying badly to minimize, to simplify. I am throwing out old cell phones. Why have I kept old cell phones? I am having trouble parting with my dead iPod, but that’s another story.
In my under-bed digging, I came across a piece of paper I had ripped out of a notebook and folded over.
Just remember that things you put into
your head are there forever, he said
You might want to think about that.
You forget some things, don’t you?
Yes. You forget what you want to remember
and you remember what you want to forget.
I remember writing it, but I don’t remember where. But I recall reading that passage, folding over the page.
Hopefully, as I throw away bobby pins and ticket stubs, pens and notebooks and shoes, I will remember what I want to remember and forget the dust-to-dust induced allergy attack.