That Sofa Time of Year

May 22, 2009

Yup.  It’s couch season here in Berkeley.  As the students flee the city they leave behind a wake of discarded futons, IKEA shelves and other assorted flotsam and jetsam.  In recent years the City of Berkeley has brilliantly (and I am actually not being ironic or sardonic or malicious in saying that) placed dumpsters in areas with high student populations so that at least some of the wreckage gets hauled away quickly instead of mouldering on the sidewalk for weeks or even months.

It’s kind of fascinating, watching the dumpsters fill up, get emptied, and then fill up again.  Watching what people just throw away.

Then again – I’m kind of in awe of how most people live… furniture wise at least.  I know it takes all kinds… and I try not to judge because I have no desire for anyone to judge me… but I can’t image living with a home full of nothing but temporary furniture.

John Waters says in “A Filthy World” that you shouldn’t have sex with anyone who doesn’t have books in their house.  My mother has serious qualms about the psychological state of anyone who doesn’t have books, art and plants in their home.  I think they might both have points.  Ally and I also worry about people who don’t have music but you can keep all that on a computer these days so … how can you tell right off the bat?

Anyway – I think my mother and my father had a hand in my solid furniture thing.  Mom with the love of heavy antiques and Dad with the building of furniture (most of which I know possess… how cool is that?)…  anyway I have a thing for real furniture.  This is not to say I don’t have things from IKEA in my home.  They just aren’t the main pieces.  Most of my furniture is bloody HEAVY and if I ever move from my beloved home I will take every single stick of it with me.

So this whole season of disposable furniture kind of freaks me out.  Am I the only one attached to their home and the contents there of?  And if so… what is it like to live in a disposable apartment?  Is it really home?  Or is it really just stuff?

I don’t think this will ever make sense to me.

I’m going to go stare at my cubes…

Dad's Cubes



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