Possessed, Consumed and Hungover

Packing up my possessions, transporting them across Cardiff and putting them into storage has made me wonder how much I actually need them. I don't have a lot of bulky items - furniture, etc. - but I still have enough to fill half a garage from floor to ceiling. It's a heck of a lot of stuff.

For the next six months, I will survive on the contents of one back pack. OK, I will buy some new clothes when I get to Taiwan but I don't really need anything more. This is quite a liberating thought. In fact it makes me feel incredibly smug because it proves that I am a failed consumer.

For a moment, a few weeks ago, I even thought about shredding all my possessions, like Michael Landy did in 2001. But the idea quickly evaporated when I realised that I would have to include all my books, my computer, my leather jacket, tailor-made suits, photographs and plants. These things are, in fact, very important to me. So I am not totally anti-consumerism and I am partially defined by what I own.

This blog post is fast turning into a philosophical mess, so I will go back to my Saturday chores. First on the list is dealing with the hangover from last night's leaving party at the Cayo Arms. It was a good night and, judging by the contents of my pockets this morning, I only bought one drink. My head and liver tell me that I consumed many more.