Broken Chairs and Yesterday

My trash gets picked up by the city on Thursday’s but if city employees are hoping to score some good stuff, Thursday is too late. If you want to go through my trash, you better get there early because my neighborhood has some of the best dumpster divers in the world. For the past several weekends I’ve been throwing out a lot of stuff from my apartment and garage, and while the trash pickup isn’t until Thursday I know that anything left on Sunday will be gone by Monday, the ugly chairs, the broken lamp, the table missing two legs…all gone. Either there is someone badly in need of furniture or someone is building a Be the Boy museum, which now that I think of it, isn’t a bad idea. Future generations are going to need to know how to win the heart of a girl or where to find the last page of my partial biography. I guess my furniture will help get the point across as part of the virtual Be the Boy Experience where you can sit at home playing records and watch old movies just like me (Slackmistress not included).

There’s a chance that it’s not an archiving mission though, it could be me from the past trying to get his stuff back. This is a very Jorge Luis Borges scenario where my past and present self exist in the same space but never cross paths and I couldn’t do enough drugs to unravel the intricacies of it, so I’m going to assume that’s not what happening.

Anyway, delusions of grandeur aside if anyone needs a broken TV stand you better get there before someone else does. Who know what tomorrow may hold; a blender, a box of midget porn, a toaster? Someone will find out soon.


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