Minimal/maximal.

I was looking at Middlebrow's blog yesterday (although, Middlebrow, I know you're on vacation, but when your post reads "Day 1: Driving to Blanding, Utah," you have to know your reader is going, but what about Day 2? not to mention Day 3? I'm just saying.), remarking on its sleek minimalism. For instance, he announced about the re-upping of his Flickr account, but no shiny, distracting Flickr badge. He's got his blog roll, his del.ici.o.us, a site meter, and that's about it. Middlebrow is a notorious minimalist. I think he has, like, three e-mails in his inbox at a time. He deals with things. Things have their places. He doesn't have too much stuff. I admire this quality, mainly because it is a quality that I manifestly do not have, not in the least. There is not one minimal thing in my entire life. Not my blog, not my house, not my office, not one thing.

I am thinking about this because of all the projects going on around here. The organizing of the study. The reshaping of the downstairs. The outdoor projects, front and back yards. Every room in my house has more things than it should have--remnants of all the periods and eras of my life. For instance, there are chairs outside from the historian's house, from my apartment, from thrift stores. Two lawn chairs were my grandmother's, one is from somewhere else, I'm not sure where. There's a stainless steel table of which I do not know the provenance or what it's supposed to be for. And, of course, there's the new old stuff I bought at the consignment store.

I could do the same rundown for every room in my house, but it's already freaking me out a little. What is all this stuff? What is its meaning? Sometimes I think it is a pathology, the acquisition and retaining of stuff which names me to myself and comforts me in the renaming. I'm sure there is an unattractive Freudian explanation which I shall just skip over ("denial"). Also, I kind of just like stuff. There is a certain physical pleasure I derive from just going out, looking at things, thinking of which ones I'd like to take home, put on tables or in cupboards or in closets, wear, use, handle, have around me.

I think that tomorrow, I'm going to take everything out of one half of my study and make myself be a little ruthless. Let me just say, however, that this is by no means a cure. It will, at most, deal with the symptoms. To cure maximalism, you have to believe that the stuff you have, the stuff you acquire, the stuff you keep, is only stuff, and not somehow a part of you. I don't know what it would take to believe that. I think it might be kind of like having excellent vertical leap. Some people think you can improve vertical leap, but I don't think anyone believes you can improve it much. If you have it, you have it. Of course, that's until you get older and you lose it anyway. Okay, it's not very much like vertical leap at all. Perfect pitch--it's like that. I'm pretty sure that my maximalist tendencies are related to all the good, interesting qualities about me. I just wish these excellent traits would help me to clear a path between my desk and my chair, and also reduce the stuff in my closet by a third.

Tell me which way you liked that.

It is time to break the Summer of 2007 all the way down with the Best and Worst list:

Best new recordings: Rickie Lee Jones, The Sermon on Exposition Blvd., Feist, The Reminder, Rufus Wainwright, Release the Stars

Best family stuff: the Scots came to town, baby Deacon was born, family gatherings of all sorts when my brother came to town, my sister came to breakfast at my house. Running out with college daughter and running son for sodas late at night. Late night movies with college daughter.

Best household developments: I cleaned out my closet and gave away so many clothes, so many that I can now see that I still have a bunch to give (I told the historian last week that I bet I could reduce my sweaters by a third--and I did). I bought a vacuum cleaner. I got the downstairs carpets cleaned.

Best television: so many middle-aged actresses have shows now--Lili Taylor, Holly Hunter, Glenn Close, Kyra Sedgwick. I now have a weekly regimen of State of Mind, Saving Grace, Damages, and The Closer. I'm also watching The Office, 30 Rock, and the pretty horrible most recent season of Scrubs. Also, a brilliant series on AMC called Mad Men. Also random episodes of Top Chef. Aside from that one, I could never get into the reality tv scene, so summer has kind of been a wasteland--but now, there's actual new television: some shows that are only barely passable as shows but with terrific acting (State of Mind and Saving Grace), but also terrific shows with excellent acting (The Closer, Damages, The Office, 30 Rock, and Mad Men).

Best movies (aka, movies at which I had a good time): Superbad, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Hairspray, Once, Hot Fuzz, Knocked Up, Disturbia, Away From Her, Broken English, and The Simpsons Movie.

I'm also adding the amazing vacation we took to the "Best" list.

Sundry other bests: I got to write new poems, including trying my hand at a canzone (still working on it), read new books, and relax a lot. I wrote a paper with counterintuitive. I've got some poems coming out this fall. I feel invigorated about my writing and submitting life. I can carry a lot of music around on my iPod.

Worst: Well, after a summer like that, it would be a little churlish to linger on "worst." Worst is, maybe, having to contemplate checking all the links on your readings pages for the online class you're about to teach. Or having to spend Tuesday in meetings. Or having to get your parking hang tag. Or thinking about how very, very whiny you have all of a sudden, after a pretty much blissful summer, become.