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One we ponder on long plane rides overseas and cross-country car trips. “You’re not free.” they would say on their way to work, “you’re homeless and you’re poor.” Money means freedom? It was an interesting theory. But the easily liquidated video games from Blockbuster were just as good, and we found plenty of those… Somehow, at that time, in that place, it seemed possible. “What’s next? Dumpstering money at the bank?” And when we felt like the craftiest kids in suburbia, a new all-you-can-eat salad bar would open and we would laugh at suburbia’s endlessly accommodating nature. Our skillz evolved - from starving, to subsisting on table scraps at the food court, to humbly scraping by on discarded American excess, to an extensive dumpster diving/shoplifting course. Our philosophies evolved - from general dislike of work, to the feeling of exploitation, then seeing the American way of life for what it is and turning our backs to it. A job? “Well if you didn’t make unemployment so easy… We reflected on past dives in that very dumpster - the functioning CD player, nutritional supplements, photo department discards with scandalous pictures of former high school classmates. We explained our positions as “freelance excess reduction engineers engaging in the reallocation of surplus.” He told us to get a job. Until the manager flew out the back door, shaking his fist, demanding to know why we were in the dumpster. What does a vegan do with fifty packages of Chips Ahoy anyway? And why did Walgreens throw them all away? We began to think maybe they were on our side.
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Ironic that as perceived “struggling” and “starving” kids, we maybe gave away more than we ate. we ate what they threw away, whatever we could fit in a basket and walk out with.
#Twice treasured thrift bozeman manual
And even though we never completed The Complete Manual for Urban Survival, made the front page, aired the dumpster diving public access show, stole every “No Skateboarding” sign, or patched things up with the bread delivery guy from whose truck we stole fresh bagels every morning, well then we were content knowing it was possible. When everything was possible, but there wasn’t enough time for everything. Notebooks of conspiracies, crimes, schemes, and maps to abandoned buildings. Every day, and every plan and plot were a reaffirmation that our lives were our own. Some of us read all day, others chanted and held signs, some were full-time defendants. Everything fell into place when we decided our lives were to be lived. We dumpstered, squatted, and shoplifted our lives back. We left behind the other kids, their path - working, drinking, and being grown-up - and rejected all that made them grumpy, uncreative, and lifeless. Late night mob action advances on the thrift store donation bin, long bike rides through the industrial ghetto, shopping cart races, and competitions to see just how many times we could make the “Police Blotter” column of the local paper. When we looked at the big, crazy urban chaos and suburban sprawl, and it all began to look suspiciously close to a big playground. When we stopped going to the mall to buy things and started going to collect derelict baby strollers for the 75c refund. When “every day is April Fools’ and every night Halloween.” When we stopped shopping inside stores and began shopping in back.
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Unemployment when one’s role in life shifts from passive observer to active participant. At night, after running around, plotting and scheming, our checklist items all crossed out, we paused to think - What to do tomorrow?” and the answer was always “As we please”. Then life began, and since then we remember each dumpster, abandoned house, and footchase by retail security. Being “born again” for us wasn’t finding “God,” but shedding convenience. But those years of school, work, and middle-class lethargy are a blur. We had spent uneventful periods of our lives paying rent and long practiced the dull habit of paying for things. What about how much we can steal? Doesn’t that count for anything?!Īnd poverty in pocket means richness of experience.
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Poverty is a mathematical equation, an expression of how much one can buy. If it was poverty it was poverty only on paper. It was a romantic life, maybe to be looked back upon as the glory days of youth.