Let’s Take A Peek!

Woo Hoo!

The Found event was great! There were songs, dramatic interpretations, curse words, and audience participation. There was a story about Mr. Rogers, and I got to drink beer in a church, allowing me to cross 37 off my "List of 100 Awesome Things To Do Before I Die".

I talked to lots of folks that night that share my obsession with finding things on the ground. We swapped stories of our favorite finds, and talked about artists that use found objects as inspiration. No one discussed why they felt compelled to collect these things.

The whole thing started me wondering on when I developed this voyeuristic desire to peek at the things strangers discard.

After Much Contemplation, I Arrived At The Source

When I was 15, my aunt found three sacks of prison mail on the side of the highway. As soon as she brought them inside, we dumped the contents on the pool table and gathered 'round. In a rare display of family unity, we spent the next week there, reading our favorite passages to one another. We followed the tangled stories of prison romance, and learned the proper technique to brew hooch from cafeteria leftovers. We got to eavesdrop on the most private thoughts of complete strangers.

I learned a valuable lesson, and since then, I've been collecting things found on the ground, forgotten on counter tops, or left in shopping carts. My collection includes suicide notes, bizarre shopping lists, break-up letters, contracts, journals, doodles, medical reports, and hundreds of pictures. I spend a lot of time shuffling these things from place to place, imagining the lives of these people.

I am compiling evidence, of what I don't know.

This Is Not My Favorite, But It Is Certainly The Strangest


I can't remember where I found this, or how long ago. I can't explain what it means, who wrote it, or how it affects the world around you. I can only give it to you, and allow you to draw your own conclusions.

*a brief description of the item- single piece of paper, ripped from a spiral, sharply folded. printed in block letters on the back of the paper , using a blue, fine-point pen. it looks like the work of a serial killer.*

TWO WEEKS BEFORE CHRISTMAS THE ELEVEN SURVIVING MIDGETS FROM COLONEL TOBY'S SOUTHERN CIRCUS GATHERED FOR THE CELEBRATION OF THE BROOMSTICK. REQUIREMENTS WERE MINIMAL: ELEVEN BROOMSTICKS, THREE QUARTS OF BABY OIL, AND A FEMALE. JUST AFTER 4:00 THEY OBSERVED A DRUNKEN, BLONDE CO-ED STAGGER ACROSS THE CAMPUS. THEY PERSUADED HER TO FOLLOW, ASSURING HER THEY WERE SANTA'S ELVES AND THEY WOULD LET HER WATCH REINDEER HAVING SEX. BACK AT THE WAREHOUSE THEY STRIPPED HER NAKED, COVERED HER AND THE FLOOR WITH BABY OIL. BROOMSTICKS CAME OUT. THE CO-ED TUMBLED DOWN AND THE MIDGETS BEGAN TREATING HER LIKE A HOCKEY PUCK, WHACKING HER ASS ACROSS THE SLIPPERY, OILED FLOOR. AFTER FIF-

And that is how it ends. I will ponder this mystery for a very long time. The world is a strange place, full of interesting people.