Physical media is an albatross. Or so Wiley wrote on my Facebook wall. Behind me on my dining room table is the pile of physical media that I’m firmly determined to give away before I move to LA. There is another pile—of 40-odd books, maybe 20 records, and some DVDs in one of those black sleeve folder things—that I’m having trouble moving over to the dining room table pile. I know that Wiley is probably right, and that it would feel terrific to show up in Los Angeles with nothing but a suitcase and a laptop (maybe not even that—my Macbook seems to be nearing its expiration date), to start a new life without these physical reminders of my various old lives.  I liked the light backpack bullshit part of Up in the Air. Maybe I am an addict. Please, God, give me the courage to accept the things I cannot change … and also to give up the copy of A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again that I’ve had for over ten years and have already shipped back and forth across the country three times.

Physical media is an albatross. Or so Wiley wrote on my Facebook wall. Behind me on my dining room table is the pile of physical media that I’m firmly determined to give away before I move to LA. There is another pile—of 40-odd books, maybe 20 records, and some DVDs in one of those black sleeve folder things—that I’m having trouble moving over to the dining room table pile.

I know that Wiley is probably right, and that it would feel terrific to show up in Los Angeles with nothing but a suitcase and a laptop (maybe not even that—my Macbook seems to be nearing its expiration date), to start a new life without these physical reminders of my various old lives.  I liked the light backpack bullshit part of Up in the Air.

Maybe I am an addict. Please, God, give me the courage to accept the things I cannot change … and also to give up the copy of A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again that I’ve had for over ten years and have already shipped back and forth across the country three times.