2 Books: "Days of War, Nights of Love" and "Youth in Revolt"

There are few things that I actually spend money on. Food. Music. Books. Travel. These are the things that claim most of my income after bills are paid. I could spend my life lambasting mass consumption, but put me in a hip used book store and watch duplicity take human form.

Eating good local, organic, vegan food satisfies in a way little else can. Discovering new music, or old music for that matter, keeps me moving forward. Reading a well articulated argument, passionate treatise, or lurid metaphor offers new ways of looking at our own lives and the world around us. Traveling allows us to relinquish some control, and experience things we never knew existed. My life without these things would be far less satisfying.

While somethings are best consumed in moderation, I have no qualms with over-exposing myself to new bands, artists, and authors. Which is why I own far too many albums, and far too many books.

Dave Tow, a fellow teacher, friend and writer, is one of two people who understood when I started throwing around the idea that I no longer needed to own physical copies of albums I loved. He had also taken similar measures in holding on to the songs themselves, and not the plastic medium they are transported on.

Books however are a different story.

If I give away a book I can't just access the file on my computer and read it. Yet, I own so many books that I have started piling them everywhere. There are books in nearly every room of our house, and we just keep getting more. I have taken more than my fair share of the bookshelf space. Last weekend at Comic-Con I picked up two graphic novels by Adrian Tomine (he was sitting there signing them), last night I almost ordered a copy of Alan Moore's "Watchmen", and today I initiated a trade on SwapTree.com for John Perkins' work "Confessions of an Economic Hitman".

It's time I took my library card seriously. Instead of using it for research materials, music and dvds, I should really use it for most of my reading. I do have two fantastic libraries right in my area.

So, as an act of commitment, and as a symbolic fist step, I have given two of my favorite books to Dave. I have no doubt that he will enjoy "Youth in Revolt" by C.D.Payne and "Days of War, Nights of Love" from Crimethinc. They've been sitting on my bookshelf for a few years, and now they will finally get some much need attention.   

2 Chuck Ragan Albums

When I met Patrick he was wearing a black t-shirt shirt that said, "We don't pee in your pool, stop eating animals." Little did I know that we would spend the next several years together writing music, playing shows, and protesting. 

When Patrick joined my old band The Cause it was clear we had a lot in common. Six years later, with shared triumphs and disappointments behind us, Patrick has moved on to play country music with his band the Western Set, and still gets together with me to indulge in our new zombie apocalypse band Destroy the Dead (more on this in the future). 

When we get together to write songs and record, I often send him home with a couple new things to listen to. Either I burn him some stuff that I have files of, or just give him the cds altogether.

Since my cd collection has grown to over 2,000 albums, I have no problem handing things over for other people to enjoy, especially since I've got everything on file as mp3s and saved on backup external drives. You will see 90% of these records passed along over time; sometimes in large groups and at other times parceled out as they are here. 

These first two are the available albums by Chuck Ragan, primary vocalist of the band Hot Water Music. Ragan's style is honest and timeless, just as any good friendship should be, which makes Patrick the perfect fit for these.

38 Posters

Large concert flyers and album advertisements covered the walls and ceiling creating an sense of insulation in my room during high school. Matching the inner lining of my brain, there was also the occasional political poster decrying racism or police brutality, and advocating justice.

Over time, large shrines to bands like Rancid gave way to wallpaper ala Snapcase and Boysetsfire. During my few years as a record store employee, I acquired more than a well developed skill of music snobbery; I also expanded my music collection. Part of that experience manifested itself in a collection of posters.

Everything from an impressive assortment of Ani Difranco wall pieces to three-part sets of Refused images found their way into my hands. While some kids hung up American flags or pictures of Jesus, I had Good Riddance and Propagandhi. These artists helped me develop my moral compass in the absence of priests, athletic coaches, and distant parents. From these bands I learned the value of independent thought, a naive and an acute distaste for anything status-quo, the need for conscious self-actualization, and the power of creative self-expression.

Music was my life and the bands I listened to defined my existence.

Overtime my influences expanded to include painters, street artists, and advocacy organizations, and my poster collection reflected this. Works from Shepard Fairey and Derek Hess replaced whatever hardcore band formerly owned those three square feet of wall space above my desk. Posters advertising albums turned to posters promoting animal protection.

When I started to open the many tubes of posters in the garage, I found a rich history archived there. Going through them was akin to unrolling aged scrolls revealing ancient and profound wisdom. Some from a South African art gallery I visited with a close friend, prints brought back from parents' trips abroad, some I picked up on Telegraph Ave. in Berkeley, many left out for free at record stores; all important.

I put them in large box and transported them to Lou's Records in Encinitas, where they were left out for customers and punk teens to rummage through. It is my hope that I have helped them line their own walls with the images that transformed my room into a sanctuary. At the very least, I walked away from another impractical and unnecessary hoarding of "cool" items.

On the way there my sister went through them (even though I asked her not to), and pulled out a couple that she couldn't believe I was getting rid of. While I was upset with her at the time for pulling them out, I'm happy that maybe I've been able to pass some of that down to her. Just maybe when she's feeling overwhelmed or isolated, she'll be able to look up at the burning monk on the Rage Against the Machine poster and have her determination strengthened.

45 Animal Rights Videos and Stickers/Stencils

Sweaty musicians. Lots of screaming. Youthful enthusiasm. Passionate idealism. A call to action. Last night was a shot in the arm. 

I hadn't been to a hardcore show since my previous band dissolved in early 2007. When Tamora ended I felt a mix of feelings about our dissolution, which has kept me from going to shows ever since. Our final show at the Che Cafe with the Hope Conspiracy was the last time we delivered information about animal suffering to the public. 

Since then, the boxes of animal protection literature (pamplets, stickers, buying guides, etc.) have been dutifully collecting dust in my garage. In addition to all the literature, I have been collecting and hoarding videos related to animal suffering. I acquired most of them when I spent the summer of 2003 working for PeTA2.com, but others were handed off to me by fellow animal advocates and teachers over the years.

Everything from dog labs and fur farm footage, to egg investigations and turkey production are documented on these tapes. Hundreds of hours of footage in all. They are hard to watch for most, and make it clear that humans destroy animals to satisfy even the most superfluous desires. This is obvious when people state, "I won't stop eating meat, I just like the taste too much." In the U.S., most would be appalled and outraged if they heard someone saying this about a dog or cat.

However, the punk and hardcore music scene has always made movement on these issues and still inspires people to become active in their communities. During the mid-90s it was bands like Earth Crisis that took a militant stand on issues of oppression, and last night the story continued.

I took a box of these videos to the show, along with stickers and stencils to leave out for anyone who wanted them. By the end of the show nearly everything was gone. I watched in quiet joy as members of Seven Generations walked away with a few videos each, and attendees stuffed their pockets with stickers and stencils.  

At the end of the night, Tyler, a fellow seer and information distributer, who spent the evening giving away Crimethinc posters and other materials asked, "Can I you give some money for this stuff?" I denied him immediately, and we got to talking about why. I explained that watching people take these supplies to help animals was payment enough.

(Photo: Singer of the band Hostage Calm from Connecticut - I took it during their very short set.)

 

32,000 Baseball Cards

Baseball card collecting is an American pastime. Like many other young people I was fascinated by superstar athletes, enjoyed going to see major leaguers, and spent a large part of my youth playing baseball. 

All my friends collected cards, traded them, and used them as badges of self-worth. Whoever had the most sought after cards was king. That 1989 UpperDeck Ken Griffey Jr. with the misprint was in serious demand, and getting it in your collection was a great achievement; kind of like walking on the moon. Operation Desert-Shield couldn't compare with the neighborhood battle for the best cards.

When I was 10-years-old my dad took things to a whole new level. He started bringing home cases of cards. Price Club (now Costco) sold boxes of packs from all the leading manufacturers, and dad added these cases to his routine shopping trips. 

For the next two years I ripped open packs of Donruss, Score, Topps, Leaf and UpperDeck. I searched out the high value picks, like the limited-edition Ricky Henderson Elite card, the Topps Gold Series, and made sets out of all the rest. I filed cards in numerical order by brand and boxed them up in hopes of having a valuable commodity when I was older. 

Little did I know that I would be hauling these boxes around for the next 17 years.  

It was with card collecting that I first formed the habit of mass consumption. Collect. Buy. Sell. Trade. Own. I have kept some of the more valuable ones (not that I actually checked), but the large bulk of them are going away. So, it is to baseball cards that I say farewell. I am giving them to the local recycling center, where hopefully they will come back around as something a little more practical.