Jefferson and Tracy's house makes me think of what I want.

This is difficult for me because at the beginning of this project, I was wholly comsumed with the idea of what I don't want or need. When I sifted through everything, I made piles; want and need. I made no room for sentimental treasures since I literally did not have room for such things. A little Mazda and a crazy plan steeped in logic has no room for that. These things were given away or put in the trash.

Jefferson was one of the people I gave things to. The room I am staying has my autographed framed Blur poster on the wall facing the futon. In the front room sits one of my paintings of my friend Kika. It is not necessarily strange to see "my" things in a different environment, it is more that seeing these things brings to light how much my priorities have shifted. These things have new life to them, they have shed the experience of my recieving or making them. I often forget that these things existed until I see them looking back at me.

I still go to the mall to people watch. It's the best place because people are wrapped up in their own agendas, yet are out there in the open, and trying so hard to avoid interaction with anyone else. They are sterile and hurried or dressed up and uncomfortable. I sometimes try to be someone else. If I approach these people with a lie they can swallow and be pleasant, then they have room to break a bubble. You can't give things away at malls, people are taken aback by giving without having to pay. You have to force your position by leaving things; in pockets, in restrooms, on counters. In my head I want to know what every bag has. What did you need? What did you come out for? Since I can't deal with buying anything merely because it's "cute" or I like it anymore, I can't get rid of these thoughts. I hate that because it's remnants of my judging. The more I push myself out of a seemingly regular living situation, the more I find I have a hard time accepting other people's extreme friviolities.

And I know that's all relative.

Today I am going to a huge yard sale that Jefferson's family is putting together. I have been warned that it is fairly intense, and so of course I am eager to see it. There is a pricing system, and Jefferson's mother is really organized about how the profits are split up.

This is terribly idealistic and I know there is a structure in place and moreso, its ACCEPTED. These are neccessities, housing and food. We can survive on so so little and be strong and happy. Wants take over. I don't think this is totally a bad thing, so long as the differences between wants and needs are consistantly acknowledged on a consistant scale.

When I first heard Jefferson say he owned his house, it blew my mind. Owning a house, a building. I feel horrible as so many people want this and I can't manage to wrap my head around the concept. It's an arguement I find myself having every morning. Am I different or just a fucking jerk? Not everyone wants to live the way I do, and not everyone wants a house, and thats cool and I need to roll with it. It makes me sick that I have a "thing".

What it all comes down to is death. How you want to be remembered, what others can glean and take with them. I don't want to die with land, and I know spending time trying to aquire it would be a waste to me. The thing is, I see the comfort in having this house, how it aids in Jefferson and Tracy thriving since they are so busy, how lovely it is to come home to something stable.

John asked me if I was going to continue to live like this. I told him I can't see not moving around for the rest of my life.

"I can see both sides and it paralyzed me."

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