The Box Part One

Here's something I found the other day!

Before you get started here, I'm going to warn you about something. This is probably going to be a multi-part message that could go on for awhile. If you have something to do, it might be best to not get involved. But alas. Ahem. I was about to sit here and write another typical blog like I always do. It involved me sitting at Jason's Deli the other day, and wondering what would happen if I took my plate and just slammed it on the floor. Then what if I got up and walked to each table people were sitting at, and then just slammed their plates to the floor. What would their reactions be? I'm sure the staff would be kind of perplexed, the first plate probably being not too unusual, the second probably getting their attention, and on and on. I'm sure that within the fifth plate, they would be on the phone with the police but I don't know their policies so who knows what could happen. But that's typical of what I like to write about. I'm feeling a little waxing poetic is in order. I'm wistful. I'm sad, amused, missing childhood but glad to be out of it at the same time. I'll elaborate. Aimee and I are selling our house. This isn't anything out of the ordinary because we like to move. But the only prob is that it involves me grabbing my "box". I have one box of shit that I've pulled around from my parents house to every apartment and every house I've ever rented or owned. It spans my entire life. There is an Easter card from my late godmother from 1983 and a few baby pictures of me. There are comic books, novels that were required reading from high school. CD's, cassettes (Billy Joel's The Bridge), broken Casio SK1 keyboards, ribbons for 4th place at father/son campouts, etc.. my zipperbag from 8th grade, broken cymbals, little tear-out posters of Spider-Man, the X-Men, and (I’m not kidding) Metallica. There are SEC football team pennants, a drum head that Judge Genius signed, including the names of the band members, god, period blood, and coincidentally “Gay-Metallica” which I suppose were to be Metallica’s gay counterparts. (I think this might have been in the St. Anger days when Metallica did get pretty gay). There is a BR Advocate article about Mrs. Randy Marrs and her battles with breast cancer, and I have every single note that every girl ever wrote to me in there. Not any from Aimee though because those are all in my nightstand. This is a box of old stuff, obviously nothing current. Anyways, that is all I can really remember for now, so like I said – this was part one. I will write a part two next time I go through THE BOX!