Things I threw away last week. (part one)

I'm throwing away a lot of things that I kept.

They are things with nice memories attached. Physical reminders of times and people that were valuable to me, that I didn't want to forget. Because I do forget things, people, events I was at and all the most important things of life. It gives me an enduring anxiety, to which I respond by creating keepsakes : diary, sketches, photos, blog.

But I no longer have my own space in which to store them, and the extent of my collecting has become ridiculous. So I've thrown away things this week, including these things :

 

Torso of leaves, part of a painting I did for GCSE art.

 

 

Wall calendar without words - everything's a pictogram.

 

 

The one bottom left must mean Megadog, which dates this to 1996ish. I think my parents are next door, but who's the grinning face? My sister?

 

 

I wonder if the person top right is an old friend who chose to go by the name of Zebedee. Like everyone else in my memory banks, I wouldn't recognise you now.

 

 

The mushroom may have signified either a Mushroom ID course, or taking psyilocybin.

 

 

Balloons with names equal birthdays, I think.

 

 

I've no memory of painting this picture of The Hermit (from my tarot pack) : it's landfill now.

 

 

The undergraduate modules on this wallplanner suggest this also is 1995 - 1996. Memories of a time when my brain thought it was actually getting somewhere, and in company. That's what makes such physical memories so valuable: it reminds you that you weren't alone, but were part of a group. And the sad edge to that memory comes from the fact that that group, as all other groups, has dissipated.

 

 

I'm not sure if it's the psyilocybin or the paintbox that unleashed my psychedelic period.

 

 

Now this was the hardest to chuck of all - look at that playlist, it's still the best part of what BBC 6music puts out. And Phil and Simon were the loveliest people you could hope for to run a night. And I used to regularly vomit my spaghetti hoops up in the toilets.

 

 

You guys. I similarly have no memory of doing this picture, I guess it was over a Christmas when I stayed up longer? Waheed, Colin, James & Steve, and the foot of the other guy in our flat whose name I don't remember. 1994.

 

 

 

This also has gone to landfill. It was given to me by a Buddhist monk in Thailand as a warning against opium. 1996.

 

I could keep going at this nostalgia list for page after page after page, but you need a break.