The problem was never in keeping stuff. It was in buying stuff. Minimalism attacked the wrong end of the pipeline.

Listen, I get it. We all have too much shit. Our parents and their parents had even more. We grew up with our homes having a lot of.... stuff. Part of this is a result of the Great Depression, which, rightfully so, caused people to hold on to even the smallest things. People lost their entire lives in the depression, everything they owned, so holding on to things became essential. A tin can could be a cup or a bowl or made into countless other things that might be useful and could not be afforded otherwise. It's exactly why you see a lot of older homes with construction oddities, jerry-rigging, and makeshift hardware.

Then we have the Golden Age of Capitalism that came afterward. Unprecedented economic growth and stability made acquiring stuff easier and more affordable than it ever had been before. This consumerist mindset was touted almost universally in media. It was "patriotic" to buy stuff and help the economy keep moving. "IT'S ONLY GOING TO GET BETTER!", they said. Now pair that with the need to keep things from the previous generation and you've got a recipe for disaster.

The aspiring minimalists looked at all of this and lost their collective minds, deciding the stuff was the problem.

I think they got it bass ackwards.

I'm not advocating for hoarding. Don't keep 37 empty laundry detergent bottles in your basement next to the washing machine, if you don't need or have a plan for them.

Instead, what I am advocating for is keeping more than you have to have. It's ok to keep things you don't "need". There are two categories here; stuff that you keep knowing it'll be used or useful, then stuff that you keep because of sentimental value or some sentimentally rooted purpose.

"Useless" Stuff

I keep a lot of stuff, I really do. A length of metal top rail from a fence, the bottom legs and rungs from a stool I cut shorter, a bit of conduit, a leaf from a long-gone dining room table, parts of an old ladder that was repurposed into a blanket holder, the old coffee pot that still works. I hold onto this stuff because it will be useful at some point. My nature and upbringing mean I already have some ideas in mind for things I keep, scenarios in which it would be useful. Keeping stuff only pays off if you're resourceful enough to do something with it, now or later. Good news though, that's a skill, not genetics.

What I get out of it is a self-sufficiency that money can't buy. Now, I can't like manufacture wood screws in my garage or anything. It's not that level of self-sufficiency. But if I want another raised bed, I have everything I need already, from stuff I've kept.

Want a bird bath? I've got terracotta saucers, a roll of old bailing wire, and some well past retired garden hose in the garage. Tree hanging bird bath coming right up. Costs zero dollars and an hour of my time.

Tony Stark was able to build this in a cave! With a box of scraps!

Obadiah Stane

sentimental stuff

I know parents keep a lot of stuff already. Not necessarily every single paper brought home from school, but a lot of stuff. Even keeping a minimal number of sentimental things when kids are growing up means at least one big tote full, probably 2-3. For me? Let's just say it's a lot more than that. That's just the stuff directly pertaining to them, not counting the other totes of "sentimental to me" stuff and stuff that has been passed down from my parents, their parents, and family.

What does it cost me? Some space, in my basement. What does it give me? Decades of memories, for myself and those after me. Kids, grandkids, great grandkids. Will my kids have to deal with my massive amount of stuff when I die? Sure will, that's their problem. What is the alternative, deciding for my kids what matters to them before they ever get to look? What if one dumb scrap of paper triggers a memory once lost? That's worth the cost of a tote from Menards.

I'm 99% sure I keep even more than my mom did when I was growing up. Sports jerseys my kids have worn, old pajamas, figurines, little notes and scraps with writing on them. Keeping this stuff costs me nothing but an always on sale tote from Menards every once in a while. And some space. One thing I need to be clear about is that I DO go back and look at this stuff, even if it's just to punish myself with nostalgia. I don't want to shove stuff away and forget it was ever a memory.

I don't mean everything lives in a tote in your basement, either. These memories, this stuff, should be out on display. The house being cluttered isn't a moral failing, it's just your life on display. The random figurine you have, art on the fridge from 3 years ago, that weird ceramic pot thing your kid made... that's not clutter. A minimalist looks at a lived-in house and sees a mess. I see a house that remembers things.

I want to feel like a wizard who is surrounded by the collections of his many adventures.

Hank Green

One man's trash...

We don't need more shit, we really don't. But the stuff we already have isn't the enemy. Some of it will build the next raised garden bed. Some of it will hand your grandkid a memory you'd almost forgotten yourself. The disease isn't keeping things; it's treating everything we own as disposable. Minimalism threw out the cure with the clutter.

Today, Last.fm begins a new chapter as an independent company. Ownership has changed,
but the product you use every day has not.

Your account, your listening history, and your data remain exactly where they are. The team
building Last.fm is the same. The service continues as normal.

What stays the same
Your account and scrobbles
Your data and privacy settings
Your Pro subscription and billing (if you're a member)
The people behind the product
We'll share more about what comes next in the weeks ahead. For now, everything works
exactly as it did yesterday.

Same service. Same team. New chapter. Thanks for being part of it.

Team Last.fm

I am 100% behind independent creators and companies. last.fm has been an experiment in community from the start, one that initially was an integral part of the more indie, independent, web era. Personal blogs and even some company blogs shared their recently scrobbled music in a sidebar or the footer. I think we should get back to that.

With that being said, we need less of the web that was given a "commercial veneer glued on top of it". More of the web that was personal, independent, relatable, interesting, and full of variety to explore.

Oh, and I found my old last.fm profile. I've reached out to last.fm on Bluesky to see if I can gain access again. If I can, you bet your sweet ass the scrobbling widget is going to be on this site in 2.5 seconds.

They aren't pretty, but they were mine. Unfortunately, SkyOS didn't work out, but this was a fun time on the web when there was always something new that had plenty of risks and the reward was actually, literally, the journey.

There isn't much journey for the journey's sake anymore it seems.

Anyways, here are some links:

• SkyOS boot screen
• SkyOS Website (thanks wayback machine)
• SkyOS - Wikipedia

Here I am now, 23 years later, watching old episodes of Family Guy on [adult swim]. Thanks guys, for keeping some form of programming and structure reminiscent of those years, never change.

Also, Happy 29th Birthday Toonami!

Reads

• [Adult Swim] turns 24: A Retrospective – The Oracle
• Adult Swim Makes Major Change Following Warner Bros/Paramount Merger Announcement - ComicBook.com

The problem with old stuff like this is you can never be entirely sure of the longevity to begin with and can't ensure it much without really effecting the overall look. That and the risk of causing more damage. Especially something as kind of "flimsy" as this with really dry old wood.

I was going try an attempt at removing all the nails so that I could glue some cracks then rebuild the whole thing with glue in the butt joints. But, with the whole fragility factor I opted against it. There's no way I wasn't going to do more damage.

The only reasonable solution was to add more nails. I drilled pilot holes to help ensure no more cracking, shoved in some saw dust and wood glue, then drove in some small dingy ring shank nails I found in my grandpas old little tool cabinet. They match the look pretty well. The last thing I would want on something like this is new shiny nail heads. (not pictured)

The shelf was another thing altogether. While the crate will have some stuff in it, it's not going to be anything heavy, just small decorations and trinkets. With this the problem here is that the thinness of the wood really give much for a shelf to hang on to. Using thicker wood, would give more surface space for glue, but then the whole thing would look center heavy. The weight of the shelf pulling down in the middle combined with the thinness of the sides might cause the whole thing to bow.

Luckily I had some reclaimed oak fence rails that fit the aging of the create. I sanded them a tad to get some of the surface graying off, then cut a couple isosceles triangles to act as braces for the shelf. This will spread the load on the sides to help with bowing, and provide a lot more surface to work with, without compromising the look.

I glued and clamped them into place then shot some pin nails into them from the outside. I hadn't planned this entire thing too well so I ran out of pin nails, opted for staples figuring it would fit the look...I should have known better. They don't look great, but they don't look new and shiny so I'm ok with it.

One thing I did to somewhat hide the pin nails and staples was to punch them below the surface and then spot dab some water on them to swell the wood up around the heads. It works well enough for this.

Enjoy.

If you want high-res or the source vector versions feel free to get in touch with me.