I found this trash slowly emerging from sidewalk snow on my way home today.
It's a pile of little plastic tubules and random gewgaws. I feel as if I should recognize this stuff. At first I thought someone had been rolling a winter's worth of cigarettes in one of those old plastic cigarette machines, but I'm not sure if those things generate this kind of waste. Then there are the little red and blue plastic clasp-things to think about.
This trash is larger than my imagination. It exceeds my mind, creates a surplus of incomprehensible matter, an excess that exists in my mind as a formless anxiety about the state of things. These are Rust Cohle problems, but they plague me. Also, I need to stop eating at restaurants so much.
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