Being an unemployed writer requires a number of special skills. These may include the ability to work independently, a love of story, a faith in oneself, the ability to do strange and unpleasant jobs for extra money, and a sharp eye for useful trash.
I first learned to skillfuly pick through other people’s trash when I lived in Somerville, Massachusetts, where trash picking is a traditional pastime for many residents. I was sometimes tempted to take a wheelbarrow with me each time I went for a walk, because the curbsides were literally stacked with free stuff. And it was an ordinary occurrence for a friend to shout out, “bookshelf, pull over!” while driving down the street. Or, “hey, grab an end, I need this futon.”
It was a simple System. If you didn’t want something and couldn’t be bothered to craigslist it or haul it to Goodwill or the dump, you could simply put it on the curb. If the item had any usefulness at all you could expect it to be gone by the end of the weekend.
And if you saw something you liked sitting by itself on the curb, it was yours to take. It was a good idea to check first for alternate explanations for the abandonment, especially if you thought you had discovered a particularly fine item. A nearby moving truck, for example, could indicate that the spotless microfiber couch with the manufacturer’s stickers still on it did indeed belong to someone who planned to put it either in the house or on the truck.
It was also a good idea to avoid anything that had big black X’s spray-painted on it. Or anything that had, “don’t take,” or “bugs,” spray-painted on it. As this suggests, if you were abandoning a piece that was faulty, damaged, or disgusting in ways that were not obvious to the naked eye of the would-be picker, you were expected to label it as such. An X usually got the message across.
I assure you that, though I benefited regularly from this System, I gave back to the community, too. After a garage sale, though largely successful, failed to relieve me of all my unwanted crap, I put it on the curb. Gone within hours, scavenged before the threatening rain could destroy the free loot.
I can’t explain exactly why the System was so pervasive. Perhaps the nearby universities contributed to the thrifty vibe. Maybe it was the number of transitioning young professionals who moved in and out of the neighborhood every other month that added to the excess of junk. Maybe it was a vestige of Puritan frugality clinging even to the newly-initiated New Englanders like so many cold Sunday beans. Whatever the reason, it was a kick-ass system.
There is not such a System in Los Angeles. Although there is still trash.
One of the best items I have ever picked up is a white canvas armchair from Ikea. Granted, it’s not a brand new La-Z-Boy. But that’s not important, because it was free, and I had the fortune to find it first. Timing is everything in matters of the heart and the curbside.
This chair was sitting by the dumpster in my apartment complex. It was just sitting there, all by itself, right next to the nasty, greasy, smelly dumpster. There was not a mark on it, even though it was white, and it wasn’t missing any legs. There was no X on it to indicate that it had bugs, though I wasn’t sure that anyone in my apartment complex knew that they were expected to mark it if it did. I decided to risk it. It was too good to pass up.
As I stated above, it’s one of the best items I ever picked. So it ended up not having bugs. I still can’t for the life of me figure out why someone threw it out. But what truly baffles me is that no one around here quite understands what a fantastic thing it is to get a chair like this from the trash. In the ‘ville, people would have praised my taste and skill in scoring such a nice chair. But here, everyone stares like I’m out of my mind when I relate “The Story of The Finding of the Free White Chair in the Trash.”
Evidently, people in LA actually buy their furniture at a store. With real money. Not only is this not fun, it’s not free. I don’t like it.
Most of the curbside finds around here are duds. Warped shelving units, tables with broken legs, and some items of particle-board that are simply to mangled to identify. It’s a sad, sad state.
But I continue to trash pick undaunted and without shame. The item I most recently rescued from the region of the dumpster was a cheap little bookshelf that looks quite nice with my adopted chair. I picked it out of the trash while the previous owner, in the process of moving out of the building, was still hauling stuff to the trash. I smiled, said hello, and made off with the shelf while she stood there watching me in disgust.
So I’m a one-woman revolution bringing the System to the Valley. These are hard times out West, and it’s time to share our junk with open hearts, helping hands, and giving curbsides. I’m sending a message out to frugal Angelenos everywhere! Embrace the New-To-You System and pick your neighbor’s trash with an extra dose of community spirit! Because you really need to know how great it feels to find some cool free shit.
