Addendum to "What I Would Take..."

Okay, I asterisked two items, saying I would explain why I would save them. It's kinda silly (at least for one of them) but y'know...

On with the show!

"The lady writer went to New York and
all I got was this Empire State Building statue!"

This is Prospero, the Owl Who Travels. I bought this little guy in England when I went to Anne Hathaway's House (this was back in 2010). He became my variation of the Roaming Gnome. I named him after the main character in my favorite Shakespeare play The Tempest. After buying him, I made it a thing to photograph him doing touristy things like...

chilling on the beaches of Étretat...

checking out Omaha Beach...

looking at the routes
the Allied troops took on D-Day...

and gettin' a cold beverage in a Honfleur pizza joint!

Needless to say, he's become a great token of my travels. While I did forget to bring him to NYC (he has forgiven me for it), I do plan on bringing him for all my future adventures! I love this little guy.

~~

To best illustrate why this poster means so much to me, allow me to post a piece of an essay I wrote about depression and music (that's right! You get to read an actual piece of my offline writing!), especially regarding this poster:

(This was during this period of time, if it helps any...)

  Before I attended therapy, I was having my doubts about going. At times, I even considered canceling the appointment and riding the whole thing out. In retrospect, that would’ve been a terrible move. 

  I had to find something to get me to stay with the therapy. Sure enough, I found it on eBay. It was an extremely rare promo poster of Fear of Music. I was familiar with the image: it was used for “I Zimbra” on the song’s Wikipedia entry (it turned out that it was the picture sleeve for the French release). It was amazing to see a blown-up version of that image (and absent were the dividing lines in the single’s variation). I saved it and waited until I followed through on going to the first appointment to purchase it. 

  It is a miracle it was still there when I came back to it. It could’ve been gone by the time I finally decided to cave into the forty-two-dollar price tag. I don’t believe that any higher powers intervene in things like this, but wow. I guess I was meant to have it. As of this writing, I haven’t found the poster again. I am a truly, truly lucky person to have it.  

  I anticipated its arrival by continuing my therapy and buying the right-sized frame for it. When it arrived, it came folded-up in a box that could’ve fit a vinyl record. It turns out that it was definitely well-used and well-loved. There were pin holes in the corners, along with “TALKING HEADS FEAR OF MUSIC” written in pencil on the back. I was a bit upset about this, but when I unfolded it out, I knew I had a special treasure. I tried to figure out who could’ve owned this. It was probably a college student like myself who either worked or knew someone at a record store, and they got lucky in scoring the poster. But they had to let it go. Maybe they had to make money or they no longer loved the band. It then was passed onto me, a new generation fan.   

  I framed it after doing some restorative work (meaning I took a Sharpie and darkened the creases). I didn’t care that I did that, it needed to be done. And plus, unlike the last owner, there was no way in heaven or hell I was parting with it. It has since hung over my desk.  

  All of this told me that, in a weird yet subtle way, I loved myself enough to go to therapy. This was a distraction from everything that haunted me to focus on something that I loved, showing me that life was worth living (I mean hey, why die when music like this exists? I haven’t even listened to the rest of their catalog yet!) I had this “trophy” to remind me of my victory over my self-hatred. It was a long war, but so far, I won the battle.

Well, there you go. In a few paragraphs, how Talking Heads (in a way) saved my life. And yes, why I would save this poster (among the other things).