After long last, I finally got myself a lovely new pair of Chucks. My chucks of past years have gotten me through so much in life, like my black ones in High School, worn beyond possibility of wearing, through parking lot hijinx, gutter punk shows, and crazy Vermont hoopla, or my purple ones that lasted me four and a half years of college and then some, worn beyond all wearing, but still worn even when the canvas and the rubber were no longer connected, drawn on, and lying in state in a corner of my room, unable to let them go, it’s like letting go of part of myself, like letting go of my college experience. I did though. I really do lack an attachment to material things the way a lot of people do. My material attachments are often things that enrich life, music, film, books, other kinds of artsy fartsy shit. But one item I am vain about is my Chucks. My Chucks just become imbued with their own power, their own special energy. It is how I remember rock shows, dance parties, and bar hops. It’s how I remember random meandering walks through streets new and old. It’s how I keep track of events in a sense. My new black chucks with the purple laces, they bring me places, and they retain residue of events. I already broke them in this past weekend at the Keith Urban show, which was really good I might add. I spent my young life being skeptical of country music on the whole, when I should have just spent my time on any artists worthy of respect regardless of type. The person I was in those days was personified through the wearing of my chucks, the person I am now experiences the memories of the person I once was by extension through my new pair of chucks. So essentially, it’s a way I walk confidently into the future by also keeping a close eye on my past. I guess..