Berlin and getting organized. A short reflection today, about things. I sing the material blues. How do you relate to the things you possess? I guess it is something positive, the fact that you are the owner? How can it not be positive, that is the question. And, as you can guess, I think I have an answer to that. You know I have this storage room in Berlin, cramped with things, absolutely totally full. I have to put something on the street in order to close the door. It can be such a burden to possess things. So why not throw them away? Because certain people might then think badly of you. Because you don’t want the things destroyed in a garbage oven. Because you could use them later. Ask some friends if they want to have or borrow them. Nobody home. It seems ridiculous in a time of crisis where everybody seems to be severely hit by downward trends and tumbling curves. But can you see what it is? I am sort of training not to attach too much to matter. There are other things much more relevant in life. The positive associations that I attach to material possession that I have as an average citizen can be annulled by the negative associations I am creating by dealing with the stuff in that damn storage room over and over again. I pay for them to be my possession but I am forgetting about them. So I’d like to compose some kind of Weild material blues that could go as an entremets to a Brecht play.
Things, things, things, what you’re gonna do
with all those things you’ve got?
what you’re gonna do with all those things of yours?
tell me honey, let me know, you know that only things can show
can show who we a-r-e, can show who we a-r-e.
Things, things, things, what you’re gonna do
with all those things you’ve got?
what you’re gonna do with all those things my dear?
– I’m thinking of giving them away.
Giving them to whom? To whom? Oh no my dear, you’ll give your soul away
And I can’t have it, a stranger with your things, I can’t have it, no, no
– Then I’ll burn them out at sea.
Burn them, why? But why? Oh no my dear, you’ll erase your soul forever
And I can’t have it, a stranger in your body, I can’t have it, no, no
– Then I’ll bury them in the garden.
Bury them, why? But why? Oh no my dear, you’ll erase your future thus
And I can’t have it, a stranger as my future, I can’t have it, no, no
– Then I’ll sell them and with the money do some good.
Sell them? O, I don’t care no-more.
Do what you want. Whatever you want. But your soul it will be blank
With all your things sold my dear, with everything gone
you’ll be just another white butt under the sun.