I paid visits to two awesome Queens organizations in the past week: Build it Green and Materials for the Arts.  They're both collecting stuff that people don't need and re-distributing them to people who want random crap. 

The first stop was Build it Green, a building-supply store in LIC.  They take surplus building materials from contractors and do-it-yourselfers and re-sell them.  I'm not exactly sure how much doors or moulding or toilets cost new, so I couldn't tell if they give you a great deal or not.  Regardless, they are helping keep construction trash out of the landfill, which accounts for an astonishingly high percentage of what gets thrown away.  The haphazard warehouse had lots of paint, doors, cabinets, toilets, and appliances, as well as thrift store-type stuff like furniture and books.  It was fun to hunt around for awhile, but didn't yield the paint or hooks I was looking for.  

Materials for the Arts is a program run by NYC's Department of Sanitation and the Department of Cultural Affairs.  They distribute anything you can imagine to artists and teachers working with qualifying arts organizations/schools.  I saw furniture, office supplies, gigantic wheels, hundreds of team patches for hats and clothes, buttons, a huge glass globe - the list goes on and on - while "shopping" in their warehouse.  My more experienced friend tells me that their inventory is completely different every time you go.  People and companies donate their unwanted stuff  to MFTA in exchange for a tax write-off.   It seems that nothing is too miscellaneous: a group of helpful sculptor girls from Pratt had carts overflowing with metal rods, paper, paint, and many other things I couldn't identify.  I'm not sure how great the ecological impact of this venture is in the end, but I love the idea of artists transforming the city's garbage into magic.  I was looking for file cabinets and furniture for my upcoming installation project, but got a little overwhelmed by the sheer possibilities in the place.  If anyone's got extra two-drawer file cabinets, please let me know.

As much as I enjoyed my recent adventures, the visits taught me a little about myself - things I wasn't too keen to learn.  I'm an impatient shopper: years of Home Depot and my own personal peculiarities made hunting and digging a little frustrating.   I love walking into a place, locating exactly what I need amongst a million choices, and walking out in no time.  This is really counter to what Fix is about -- exploration, adventure, the unexpected -- and I'm not sure my desire for efficiency is something I'll get over this year, if ever.  Is it people like me who are plundering the world's resources in the name of convenience?

I questioned recently if we really need all the soaps and lotions and shampoos and other potions we've come to consider necessities.  Now the plot thickens and I find myself in even more ambiguous territory - territory that really pisses me off.  I went to the doctor this week, with what most would count as a legitimate medical inquiry.  The dermatologist spent 5 minutes on the serious potentially cancer-related question, and 25 minutes convincing me that I have a host of other medical problems curable by five different prescriptions. 

Am I going to tell him he's wrong?  That he's a beauty-fascist, disguising the demands of the beauty and pharma industries as medical advice?   Of course I wish I had flawless skin.  Of course I wish I looked like a movie star.  But it seems wrong to pathologize my average gifts.  What about all the people who fall nowhere near our cultural standards of beauty?  And why does my insurance pay for this stuff but not other stuff that's clearly more medically necessary?  What about all of the people (like myself a couple of years ago) who don't have insurance and need real drugs?  Maybe we can set up a program where the cost of all the prescriptions we don't choose to fill can be donated to people who need life-saving medicine?

At the same time, it's obviously appealing to think that with a little effort and a lot of money I could be a little less average in this department.  The stuff probably works...and then I'll be buying special skin crap for years to come.  Maybe I'd start to need it, take a huge bag with me when I travel, freak out when the bottles are low.  One of the things they gave me as a courtesy for some botched scheduling cost around $80 for a half an ounce.  Dependence on that could seriously impact my life - imagine giving up my part-time job freedom for some face cream!   I'll try the samples they gave me...and wonder if these doctors are just making more work for their friends the psychiatrists. 

I've been adding books to the reading list here and there, and I'd like to bring your attention to one I'm particularly excited about, Peter C. Whybrow's American Mania.

Combining biological, economic, and psychiatric models, Whybrow creates a compelling explanation for the ambitious American role in what he terms the "Fast New World."  He argues that Americans are predisposed to seeking success and adventure at all costs, given the exploits of our parents (or grandparents, or great-grandparents) who chose to test their fortunes here.  The uniquely American (and possibly Australian?) drive for better-faster-more is fast exceeding the biological restraints on our collective lifestyle, leading to obesity, diabetes, and anxiety.   He also makes the case that our foundational models of the free market and the commons can't achieve their intended purposes today and ought to be reconsidered.  The case histories Whybrow uses to explore his theory are rich examples, but unfortunately lead him to prosaic, oft-repeated prescriptions.

I think I'm so excited about this book because a lot of the blogs and books I've been reading idealize simpler, easier, healthier, happier times without much inquiry into how our culture and expectations ended up where they are now.  I think this line of thinking is much more fruitful than nostalgic storytelling -- which American Mania does sometimes, too -- and might be more useful in the long run.  Despite its disappointing conclusion, I highly recommend checking it out.  (The NYPL has 17 copies.  Maybe we can come up with some prescriptions equal to Whybrow's otherwise-rigorous curiosity?)  And thanks so much for all of the recommendations you've sent me in the past few months!

I've been wanting a new pair of work shoes for a while.  I thought a pair I bought over Thanksgiving would do the job for the year but they're already pretty beat up and not so comfortable.  A few halfhearted looks at thrift stores didn't yield anything, and I missed my friends' most recent clothing swap.  So when a girl was selling her stuff on the sidewalk outside of my Saturday dance class, I had to stop and investigate.  I could tell these were a 7 and I thought they'd dutifully cheer up my all-black outfits (the picture looks a little dark - they're purple).  Shortly after she bought them, the girl decided to give up on heels - these had never been worn!  It pained me a little to pay $20 for shoes on the street, but hey - they found me.

So.  Too busy and tired to cook, I took an out-of-town friend to the original Patsy's in my neighborhood.  And then I couldn't stop.  The combination of flavors elevated itself to need from want, demanding that I buy pizza twice more over the weekend.  One might suggest that I'm searching for the Ur-pizza, Plato's pizza, the taste of a perfect pizza I had once when I was ten.  But really I just love it.  Need it.  I promise I'll try making it.  

(Pizza might have to become a Fix exception.)