Ani DiFranco has this song called “Soft Shoulder” from her album To The Teeth. I love that song. The first verse is perpetually stuck in my head:
I don’t keep much stuff around
I value my portability
but I will say that I have saved
every letter you ever wrote to me
I want to be able to value my portability. I’ve lived in four different cities and seven different apartments in the last six years, and sometimes I wish that moving was as easy as filling up a backpack and a little satchel and walking to the next destination. That’s what I imagine Ani doing.
I’m no pack rat, but I do have a few boxes of letters, postcards, ticket stubs, mementos, school work, photos, and Xerox copies of interesting articles. And books. I’m not a collector — I think I have less than 150 books — but the books take up the most space each time I move.
Half of the books I own are still in boxes in California. I have a routine of going through my boxes of papers a couple times a year and throwing a way a little more stuff each time. But books I almost never get rid of, even though I haven’t read more than half of the books I own.
Books are the items most standing in the way of my imagined life of portability. Yet, even when I’m in my annual cleaning mode, I never consider weeding through them. Why is that?
The New York Times has a great post on this very problem. David Matthews says:
A lot of this stuff can go. If I’m being honest, some of it is on my shelf because I like the idea of it being on my shelf. Things I will never, ever read: The biography of Willem de Kooning. Ditto the 600 pages devoted to Wittgenstein’s life and thought. Malraux’s “The Voices of Silence” will remain mute, its spine un-cracked, the book’s presence meant to imply to anyone perusing my “library” that I’m a man of serious ideas and scholarship.
I think that’s part of my problem. I like to keep books around for show. I think my 2010 resolution should be to read all the books I own that I haven’t yet read. And if by 2011 I don’t read them, they have to go. Portability, here I come.
















