I have given up pretty much all of my earthly possessions. Some people don’t need drugs and alcohol to have a good time. I don’t even need socks.
I live for free in a walk-in closet in a friend’s apartment. I sleep on a salvaged mattress that smells like anti-freeze. Sometimes I imagine how the anti-freeze got spilled on the mattress, but those fantasies end quickly because inhaling anti-freeze fumes makes linear thought . . . I dunno.
I scavenge a lot of food from my roommates, Ben and Chopper. They put their cast-off food in a bag for me, and I check the bag for edible specimens. The bag is white and plastic and lines a short, white bin that fits under the sink.
Sometimes I scavenge food from the refrigerator or even a cupboard.
I do not own a phone. If I want to use a phone, I wake up very early, before Ben and Chopper are awake, and see if either of them are using their phone. If they aren’t, I use it for the whole day, and return it at night, after they’ve gone to sleep.
Neither do I own a car. But Ben does. If I need to get somewhere, I get up very early and climb into the back of the car and cover myself up with blankets. Then Ben and I play “chauffeur”. He drives me to his work. When we get there, I wait 5 minutes under the blankets, and then let myself out of the car and go about my business.
My business is climbing to the top of the parking garage, finding discarded pigeon feathers (and, if I’m lucky, whole pigeon corpses), and creating dream-catchers from them. I sell these handmade artifacts to many grateful patrons who are so eager to part with their money that they often throw it at me. That’s consumerism for you. Retail-therapy. A fool and his money . . . the anti-freeze is singing its lullaby.