Detritus sounds like a disease to me. It could easily be the disintegration of my life as the discarded Reece’s Peanut Butter Cup wrappers, M&M bags and coffee cups strewn across my office would indicate. Since when did I become such a fucking slob? Is my life as empty as the discarded shells of my caffeine and junk food consumption? Does this indicate a psychological detritus? Is my personality- the thing that makes me essentially “me”- sliding into the void?
Probably not! I just love the drama. I also love saying detritus. It’s a great word and it makes me smile. But, mostly I love the drama. Crisis is necessary for meaningful growth or change and when there is no crisis I must create one. Things have been going relatively well for me more or less over the past several years. I am happy. I still suffer a little from my PTSD and anxiety disorder. I still hit the doldrums of boredom induced depression, but over all I am happy. Is it weird that this makes me nervous?
I work because I need water, food, shelter, medical care and retirement savings. In that order and my personal needs are somewhat modest. But, if it weren’t for those basic essentials I could run around naked and lie in the sun warming my balls and ass on a grassy hill somewhere. I probably could still do that if I felt more comfortable about being naked. I have covered the mirror in my bathroom so I don’t have to look at myself getting in and out of the shower.
I am proud to say that my personal carbon footprint is quite small. My crisis is no longer personal now that I have begun to embrace life and enjoy being more of a slacker. Work to live, not live to work that is my motto. More work means more consumption; more accumulation of material junk that you could live just as well, if not better, without. The internet and my cell phone have not made my life better. It has made my life more frantic
This is my life. It may seem worthless and unambitious to you. But, why do you care? It’s not your life to live. While you were busy climbing the corporate ladder and conquering the world I was listening – really listening to good music. I was having sex, spontaneous spur of the moment sex, not a conjugal visit with my wife or lover that I had penciled in a week earlier. I made good food and made some art for my walls. I snuggled with my dog and laughed with my girlfriend over the silliest things. I did all this guilt free.
I prefer the intangibles of life over the clunky shit you can accumulate. We all know we can’t take it with us so why are so busy stockpiling shit? It’s somewhat disingenuous to say we are doing it for our progeny. Why should we burden them with any thing? We have already burdened future generations with more than they may be able to cope with. Our grandchildren and great grandchildren won’t be able to enjoy the level of life that we do know. That is the crisis we are really facing.
I had all that once and I lost it to a bankruptcy. The bankruptcy was my own damn fault in a lot of ways. It was scary as hell and I plunged into the darkest most anxious abyss of my life. I lost my footing and tripped in the dark. I lost my wife, my business and for a long while, my family. But, when I emerged from the dark into the light I was happier. I have never been happier in my life. I still get anxious, depressed and I still have mild OCD and PTSD. I never said I wasn’t still a loon. I am just a happier loon. I can still get a pretty solid erection, which I am told many men my age have trouble doing without a little extra pharmaceutical help. Stress seems to be the number one cause of Erectile Dysfunction outside of anti-depressants and alcohol.
The other reason I love detritus is that it signals the passing of an old way of life. The accumulated complications of business relationships and material acquisitiveness have decayed and started to disintegrate. I am no longer burdened. I don’t have anyone I need to impress, least of all myself. What you think of me is none of my business. I am not a slob after all. I am just ejecting the flotsam of my former misery.