If there is a Heaven for a heathen such as me, it is comprised of long dusty gravel pathways lined with tables of junk. And bargains. But mainly junk.
So some Sunday morning when others are reaching across the veil to commune with the spirits and their kin, you will find me crouched over a box of CD’s seeking a type of absolution via smart shopping and a canny memory for sounds Ive heard before, but a prices I wouldn’t pay. I will be among the toy pianos and old cult movie magazines, choosing only 5 from the 8 remaining. And a plan to be back for the errant three. You will find me half dressed, half awake shambling with a cup in my hand that ain’t helping.
And I will see many of you there. because whatever you need is at the flea market. The path to righteousness starts at the snack bar.
I am not unrealistic; I don’t need this junk. The music I find can be sent digital, the cult movies have innumerable sites dedicated and toy pianos are so 2010. It is not the stuff I acquire, its the zen state of a central purpose, the simple hand work of panning for gold though endless sand.
And maybe like all things best served on Sunday mornings, it starts with a lack of sleep, an excessive Saturday and $20 bucks in your pocket. These are the tools, whether you are dropping cash into a gaudy silver plate amongst hymn or talking down a man who looks like every decision starts with ‘gimme a double’ from 2 for $5 to 5 for $10.
It’s bargaining. And an argument can be made your eternal soul isn’t worth an Eagles box set. And that’s not worth a lot.
But I will leave it to you to keep counsel re: your higher self… Im too busy trying to figure out why I should get a new, battered Casio keyboard (cause it’s $8 bucks and COULD work) or shouldn’t (cause the other 4 I bought did not).
And flea markets are erotic affairs. If viewed though enough distraction and dust. Where else do you go and common with people who clearly put on the first thing they pulled from their bedroom floor? It’s a public intimacy, it’s TMI for those seeking MI, in general.
It’s a perfect ‘Morning after’ activity. Don’t think. Too early to feel. Just…react. Just laugh. Together.
We are bargain shoppers, as a species. Affected by the axiom that ‘one mans trash is another man’s treasure’. A universal truth.
And it’s not simply ‘he who has the most toys wins’. It’s’ he who has paid penny on the pound for his toys wins bigger’.