Many fantasize about intentional living, but few put in the work. For a time, I was one of those committed, idealistic fools—the kind the world relies on to model different ways of being. In my post-college burnout years, my friend and I lived as freegans, surviving on the largesse of consumer capitalism: discarded food, abandoned goods, and the detritus of others.
I was an inveterate scavenger. My mother raised me that way, combing through the trash during the bulk pick up days in the summertime. By college, I became quite adept at finding things of real value, specifically textbooks. I started to train other people— some folks were too squeamish, but my friend Q took a liking to it. At a certain point in your life, you know your people; you can recognize the ones who are “decadent beyond their means”, ambling shambolic through the alleys to find some treasure.
Q and I would move in together. We found an apartment that rented for something like $650 a month. At the time, this was a moderate expense, but split two ways we could afford it on our part-time wages (and with me selling things I found). Other than our mattresses, most of the furnishings themselves were pulled out of the garbage, including our prized leopard-print fainting couch. Much of our food with salvaged too. We even managed to put together a music performance space in the basement. Over a couple of weekends, we found some junk and turned it into something special, all the while listening to Fiona Apple and Money Jungle by Duke Ellington. I also remember us putting on the Wild Beasts record here, this new act that Q had put me onto. We believed, above all else, that the garbage would provide. It was our mantra.
Hayden Thorpe and the rest of the band were taking a similar tack with the themes on this record, highlighting the tension between the wealthy and the disaffected. The chorus which will ring forever in my head embodies so many different parts of who I was at the time: "Wanderlust/With us, the world feels voluptuous/I just feel more, with us/It's a feeling that I've come to trust”. When you meet the right kind of people, your people, the world opens up, revealing hidden resources, something more from life outside of money.
At some point, we heard through the grapevine that there was going to be an eviction above the coffee shop that we frequented. While we had spent a lot of time in the garbage, we had never been on the front lines as people were having their property removed. Their rent was in arrears. We both left work early to get in on the action.
I made my way to the coffee shop just as the two burly men had made their presence known. A small crowd had formed. There were a few ground rules: a notice had to be posted on the door before anything could start; the burly men would have preferential selection; anything valued over a thousand dollars would remain property of the people who ran the eviction business; if there was any sign of a disagreement over who would take something, everyone would be forced to disperse. We all agreed.
Apparently fuerdai (富二代) princelings who study in the US have some fancy stuff. The burly men brought out a flatscreen, a popular video game, console, an iMac, other electronics. I picked up a coat and a pair of shoes, both of which were perfectly in my size and perfectly outside my price range. Since Q and I lived around the corner, we ran some of our winnings home in shifts. My girlfriend picked me up for work after.
In the winter, I would go to my second job at the library wearing the beautiful outfit. Eventually, I would receive a text from a friend saying that his cousin knew these two gentlemen. It turns out they died in a car accident. I was wearing a dead man’s shoes, wrapped in his coat. The discovery was a profoundly perverse feeling—like Scrooge witnessing the people picking over his possessions after his death in “A Christmas Carol,” fighting over curtains and scraps of fabric.
Eventually, when I returned from China years later, settling in the same college town for a gap year, I would stick my hand in the breast pocket of the coat and pull out a $100 bill. The previous owner was still supporting me, contributing to my lifestyle.
Verdict: Keep
What is your simple, beautiful truth?