Posted by: gdevi | March 13, 2012

The Hold Up

I think I was born to clean houses. The last two days I have been cleaning this house. I am trying to do as much as I can before I go back to Pennsylvania next Thursday. My parents are in their seventies and eighties, one of them seriously ill, and they cannot take care of this house anymore, I think. I cannot believe the things they find unable to throw away, the things they keep. What is this? I don’t know anymore. Throw everything, nation, please. Let me teach you how to shed these things from your house from your heart from your soul. Please. You will suddenly see how much you don’t want. It is like Tolstoy said–all a human being needs is six feet for your dead body to lie in–Hindus don’t even need that much. We turn into ashes. Don’t you want an empty room? They ask me if I would like this or that, and I have to remind them that they are asking the wrong person: I have absolutely no need for anything. I don’t want anything. I have no desire for anything. I am actually speechless at the things I have been sifting through, really speechless. This must be what a shipwreck at the bottom of the ocean floor is like–it is like some sort of antiquated treasure chest in some children’s comic–they are attached to these things, that’s for sure–exploded randomly splattering their contents on to these squares and rectangles of rooms. Incredible. Mother shows me this or that something I wrote or bought years ago that she has kept and wants to know if I want to take it with me to PA and I say, no, not at all. I don’t want anything I wrote years ago or read years ago; I have about as much interest and curiosity about these things as in meeting some carefully preserved person, which is actually very little, almost nonexistent. It is all in here, mother, I pointed to my head, and it is much better; I don’t need any of these things. My parents are understandably shocked at my purging, but they are taking it well. I hope to finish the entire house by this weekend. I will leave you with the minimum you need to live, my dear parents. Everything else is going to the general public. Wealth is disease and I am the cure.


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