Items and objects; material in a non material means.

As a high class hoarder (genetic gift) I have traveled this world and admired/acquired many ‘things’. Things of normality and things of non-belief.

Items ranging from a kiss from God to a set a bull elk antlers found at a dumpsite. Items. Things. Memories.

What does this mean? A sickness? A disease? Dragons are known to collect and covet gold while in my laughter knowing they truly collect other things…

“What is it worth?” asked by those coming to my gallery and wondering. The reply, “Whatever it is one wants to pay.” Pay being a dollar or a curse, maybe a blessing or a sneeze. Value is whatever it means.

Lately I have been selling/casting away/throwing away things while attaining a deeper meaning and treasure from the experiences as the dust after years is blown away.

The pictures above are of a stool. A wooden stool of very little monetary value yet hold a story deep and rich as any item can be.

No, the stool is not the crown for the King of England nor a bit coin, which no one can see. It is a memory, a collection, a story. It is today and tomorrow and the next of next until it is yesterday; one of my favorite things.

The story: As an avid collector of anything NOT made of gold…(yuck, cosmic shit if anyone were to ask me) I bid on fifteen chairs being sold by a police department. The police in the small town had just buildt a new station with new cells, new windows, new carpet, new, new, new, so out with the old things.

Online auctions, a place where one can sit naked and sip whiskey while bidding on absolutely anything. Navy aircraft carrier screw shafts weighing more than a semi truck fully loaded. A submarine. A most wonderful and amusing distraction to enjoy while being hundreds of miles away.

On this auction of fifteen chairs, I won. My high bid was $10.00. 10.00 + 6% sales tax+ 10% commission (you do the earth math) and the chairs were mine.

What kind of chairs come to mind when reading this? Office chairs? Metal chairs? Obviously the wooden stool must have been one.

Off with the invoice in my hand, a truck full of corgi’s and a wife rolling her eyes and wondering if maybe there might be a cure for my obsessions. (lucky there is no cure, only relief)

Arriving at the new police station the directions further given were to an old shipping dock located in another part of town.

Pulling up in the truck it was a new adventure trying to find the gnomes in charge of the multiple manmade caves holding all sorts of ‘things’, things to include my newly purchased chairs.

The head gnomes eyes gleamed and in true gnome fashion laughed when seeing me. His friend came in from the dark and he too, laughed. (Gnomes have a unique sense of fashion and humor)

With the formalities out of the way and the minor social verbal tests given and passed, the chairs were released. Chair after chair after chair. Ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty. Fifty two chairs were now mine. Chairs of every sort and style. Years of abandoned chairs. One chair actually was covered in faux leopard skin.

The chairs completely filled a 24′ flatbed trailer and the truck pulling it. The wife had eyes either filling with tears of joy or tears of sorrow. The corgi’s were just excited there were some gnomes to torture instead of the usual elves.

Fifty two chairs. A full load. A lot of strange looks driving back home. And once back at home there were calls to friends to be made. A LOT of chairs needed new homes.

Currently as I type this I’m sitting in a very large office chair that was a part of the goods. A wonderful chair and very comfortable and also fireproof. It had to be as I left it next to the heater and instead of bursting into flames, it just melted a little.

And now, the stool. As soon as i saw this stool i fell in love with it. And why? An old, ancient device a man once spent years sitting upon?

Look closely and see for yourself. The screws were of the old guild as were the square nuts. The wood from a tree long ago important and still sporting that importance today.

Look at the vibrant colors heralding the owner of the stool. Notice the scars of life given and taken during the duration of the legs sitting firmly upon stability while chaos unfolded around it.

Yes, there is definitely more to this story. Maybe one day i will write more of this little stool, a stool worth more than money or words, a stool that will always make me smile.