Sunday, May 10, 2009

DR. FART - and other beloved possessions.

It's no secret that I'm a control freak. That's the reason why I've always eschewed group exams, haven't driven a car for 7 years, and have grown a little terrified of skiing. In all these scenarios, my logic tells me, you may be in perfect control of what you yourself are doing, but for all you know, the people around you, they may very well be reckless and stupid. Always doubt the intelligence and capacities of others, that's my philosophy.

My love for control is also the reason why a couple of times a month, I feel the need to clean up my closet, a storage box, or a drawer in the kitchen, just so I know exactly what's in there and perhaps get rid of some of the things I won't be needing. "Oh", I might think to myself, "I have a bag full of wild rice here!". Or, alternatively: "Do I really need this bag of wild rice?".

Last night as I failed in cramming a bunch of stuff into my storage box categorized "SPOOF", I decided it was time to take a look at what was in there. And I realized, of all the storage boxes I hold in my possession, this is by far the funniest one, containing so many delightful little things.

I sorted through it all while listening to this, over and over again, which of course made me sentimental beyond belief.


Anyhow, come see all the things that I found:

Miniature tambourines and a "whoopie-key-chain". It's supposed to emit the sound of six different farts, but only one or two of them sound believable.

Anne Christine's old name tag from when she interned at Mount Sinai. I keep it for costume parties and the like.

Wind-up sushis and piglet. Always good to have.

Speedo's goggles. From when I used to go swimming at NYU's gym. I never actually used them. I prefer to swim with my eyes closed.

A necklace from Afghanistan. Matteo bought it for me when he visited his brother in Kabul.

Sugar valentine hearts, Japanese sugary somethings, and tiny packs of gum bought from Raoul's Candy Shop on Avenue B. The latter place is absolutely bizarre and lovable. I once bought a beautiful pair of leather riding boots for 9 dollars there.

Super glue. What every sensible young woman should have around the house.

A little instrument of sorts that I once bought in Stockholm. When you turn it upside down and back again it emits the sound of a moose sounding like a goat bleating.

An old bookmark from Liberty's Art Bar Café. Go figure why I've saved it, but I guess it reminds me of the Christmas trips my father used to take my sister and I on every year. Most likely going to cafés was a pretty novel thing to me at the time, too.

A small picture of my great grandmother Viola. She must be in her late 80s in this picture, and she is sitting in the sun on the patio of my grandparents' house in Sweden. When I found it I missed her so much it ached. She looks like a beautifully aged movie star, I think.

A doorplate with my name engraved on it. Made by Johan for me. I've been meaning to mount in on my door, except now Matteo lives here too.

Rubber chickens and miniature Swedish amanitas. I have no explanation for these things, except that people are always so thrilled when I pull out the chickens.

Badges and brooches. One from Thailand, one from Union Square. One from Tokyo.

Decks of cards. The one on the top is a hand-me-down from Pedro. It's from Atlantic City and has a sticker on it that says it's been used in an actual casino game. I remember Pedro told me that his tax preparer had informed him that he could deduct some of his losses, and had kind of pushed him to report a loss far greater than the one he actually had. He got a huge refund, and Pedro being the sweet and moral being that he is felt so bad about it that he gave the money to charity....now I wonder if he wound up deducting that money in turn?

A "Great Moments in Art" museum journal. The pages remain blank. (Guffaw!)

A "Big Blow" bag of birthday candles. Bought from the transvestite who usually has a flea market on the corner of 7th street and 2nd Ave. I still haven't managed to figure out what the letters are supposed to spell out, but of course I fell for it because of it's unintended sexual innuendo.

Panties from Japan, supposedly worn by a business woman, bought in a sex shop in Tokyo along with an assemble-it-yourself bondage figure. The panties were my single request when my friend Anne went to Tokyo a couple of years ago. "All I want is a pair of worn panties from a vending machine", I said. And she found it for me.

"Stuff on my cat" postcards.

A mummy. Given to me by my Mamma. Bought at MoMA.

Miniature Japanese pastries and erasers intended to look like bags of candy, all brought home from Tokyo by my little Anne.

My flying accessories. Granted not very fun, except I once lent the inflatable neck support to a Nigerian woman en route from Copenhagen to New York.

A small brooch of my great grandfather's. I think it might be something he was awarded in a gymnastics contest. I keep it in a fancy nylon purse from Thailand.

A miniature embroidered tablecloth from the Swedish Island Gotland - a gift from my mother's mother-in-law - and two fake snots - a gift from Matteo, perhaps from New Orleans. Sometimes I like to test people's love for me by asking them to stick them into their nostrils after I have had them in mine. Kind of like a 21st century take on the blood mixing ritual. So far no one has agreed to do it.

I threw some things away, packed it all up neatly so everything would fit. But most importantly, now I know what's in there.

1 comment:

Johanna said...

What a little packet of curiosities. It satisfied my voyeuristic tendencies. Thanks for sharing :]