My life is comprised of: 

I was saying that my life is comprised of a feeling of gloom which occasionally lets up and is then replaced by a feeling of gloom.

Today, I tidied up my apartment by placing things inside of things. Moving objects from here to there. Out of view. Out of sight. Consolidation.

I have three favorite objects which you can find in my place if I let you in:

1. A carved statuette of the Goddess Isis. First century BC, probably Roman Egyptian in origin. It’s badly made, possibly the work of an apprentice or a child dabbling in the arts.

(Clarification) It might seem a tad unfair to call this 2000-year-old artifact, “badly made,” but if I had a son who made a shit drawing that survived 2000 years, it’d still be a shit drawing.

2. My next favorite object is a book of short stories called The Elephant by Polish dramatist, Slawomir Mrozek. The title story is called “The Elephant” which is why it is the title story. It’s about a group of zookeepers who blow up an elephant like a balloon.

3. My last favorite object is an ivory shoehorn I got from my great-great-uncle Albert. It does the job and does it well, in theory at least.

I only wear sandals.

These are my three favorite objects and as I contemplate them now, my gloom is subsiding.

Except something is missing. My gloom is returning. The Mrozek…it’s a bit, well…how shall I say it? The colors on the cover, they’re a bit busy. I noticed this yesterday and well…something’s not right. Should I? No, I must. I must replace it with another book. A book with a cover that doesn’t look like a piñata.

I have decided to replace my Mrozek book with a story collection by Raymond Carver called “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love.” I think this book will help my feeling of gloom and maybe my love life which was nonexistent in the past and nonexistent in the present but hopefully not nonexistent in the future.

After reading the Carver, I realized I could condense each of his stories into one which is this:

            -How long have you been smoking menthols?

            -Don’t ask

            -Alright, I won’t ask

Needless to say, Mr. Carver did not help my feeling of gloom. He made it worse. Perhaps books aren’t the best kind of object to include in my favorites list.

Perhaps I’d like the book better if I use it for show and not for reading. Yes, that’s it. I’ll place the statuette on top of the book. Here. Let me see. Ah, here we go. It looks nice. Except… 

The statuette. It’s a bit…creepy, cultic even. I don’t want to sound superstitious but, it’s possible it’s the cause of all my problems. I mean, you can’t really prove it isn’t, can you?

Yes, consolidation is no longer enough. I must dispose of some things and this statuette has got to go. I chucked it in the trashcan. It’s 2000 years old, but everything gets thrown away eventually.

Now I must regroup. This act of disposal did not dispel my gloom like I thought it would. Think. Calm yourself.

(((Meditate)))

            ((((Meditate))))

                        (((((Meditate)))))

That’s better. My feeling of gloom has subsided. But now I have this book sitting here. I already dislike it. I know it makes my gloom worse and without the statue to place on top of it, I can’t use it for show. It has no use and things that have no use must go you know where:

The trashcan.

As for the shoehorn, I like it. It’s my third favorite object. But Uncle Albert wore boots. I wear sandals. It has no use to me. How can a useless object make me happy? What’s that? Throw it away you say? Alright, I’ll do it. I did it. It’s done.

But these three things were all I had. My apartment is empty now, and the gloom…

Well, now let me tell you how I feel…