Brian The Collector
Jun. 27th, 2014 09:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captain_slinkyHector The Collector, by Shel Silverstein
Hector the Collector
Collected bits of string,
Collected dolls with broken heads
And rusty bells that would not ring. Bent-up nails and ice-cream sticks,
Twists of wires, worn-out tires,
Paper bags and broken bricks.
Old chipped vases, half shoelaces,
Gatlin' guns that wouldn't shoot,
Leaky boasts that wouldn't float
And stopped-up horns that wouldn't toot. Butter knives that had no handles,
Copper keys that fit no locks
Rings that were too small for fingers,
Dried-up leaves and patched-up socks.
Worn-out belts that had no buckles,
'Lectric trains that had no tracks,
Airplane models, broken bottles,
Three-legged chairs and cups with cracks.
Hector the Collector
Loved these things with all his soul--
Loved them more then shining diamonds,
Loved them more then glistenin' gold.
Hector called to all the people,
'Come and share my treasure trunk!'
And all the silly sightless people
Came and looked ... and called it junk.
Had dreams last night that woke me up with feelings of self doubt and questionable value of character. Excitement over finding grocery bags full of old comic books for free, only to be dashed when I discovered that it was my own collection being offered and nobody - NOBODY - was showing even the least bit of interest except for *me*.
That's how I've been feeling about 98% of the stuff I collect lately; why did I spend so much of my life thinking this stuff was so important? It's all just pop-culture JUNK that Crystal and Molly will have to deal with once I'm gone, one final burden for me to place on the living from beyond the grave *shudder*.
Wow that sounds a lot more depressing that it did when it was just in my head.
Hector the Collector
Collected bits of string,
Collected dolls with broken heads
And rusty bells that would not ring. Bent-up nails and ice-cream sticks,
Twists of wires, worn-out tires,
Paper bags and broken bricks.
Old chipped vases, half shoelaces,
Gatlin' guns that wouldn't shoot,
Leaky boasts that wouldn't float
And stopped-up horns that wouldn't toot. Butter knives that had no handles,
Copper keys that fit no locks
Rings that were too small for fingers,
Dried-up leaves and patched-up socks.
Worn-out belts that had no buckles,
'Lectric trains that had no tracks,
Airplane models, broken bottles,
Three-legged chairs and cups with cracks.
Hector the Collector
Loved these things with all his soul--
Loved them more then shining diamonds,
Loved them more then glistenin' gold.
Hector called to all the people,
'Come and share my treasure trunk!'
And all the silly sightless people
Came and looked ... and called it junk.
Had dreams last night that woke me up with feelings of self doubt and questionable value of character. Excitement over finding grocery bags full of old comic books for free, only to be dashed when I discovered that it was my own collection being offered and nobody - NOBODY - was showing even the least bit of interest except for *me*.
That's how I've been feeling about 98% of the stuff I collect lately; why did I spend so much of my life thinking this stuff was so important? It's all just pop-culture JUNK that Crystal and Molly will have to deal with once I'm gone, one final burden for me to place on the living from beyond the grave *shudder*.
Wow that sounds a lot more depressing that it did when it was just in my head.
no subject
Date: 2014-06-27 06:17 pm (UTC)