Man, I don't know what the fuck it is. I keep finding scarves. Just . . . everywhere. And I keep taking them! It's an impulse that started innocently enough. At a birthday shindig I was attending, someone left behind a thin wool scarf with a simple plaid design, probably of the Gap or American Eagle or whatever. I was one of the last to leave, and being an upstanding young citizen, I took it with every intention of finding the owner and returning it. It did not go that way, and slowly a pattern began to emerge. About a month later in a downtown alley on a dumpster - a tallit. I looked around - no one - and took it. A few weeks after that, a silk scarf for some BDSM fun out in front of the Pleasure Palace.

It quickly accelerated.

A thick orange, grey, and green scarf howls mournfully at the full moon from the train tracks beneath the Dodge St bridge and I don't waste a second leaping down there to it's rescue. A yellow and orange striped softie gives me a mournful gaze from across the street from my apartment - yoink! From across the room at a quiet dinner party my gaze meets with that of a looseknit beauty elegantly woven with greens and pinks and purples and tans. Love at first sight.

A week without a new addition became rare, then, a four-day span. A two day span. All times of the year for the past year and a half. My collection picked up speed and it gradually started getting out of control. I've never resorted to theft. I haven't had to. They seek me out. They hunt me down. They know my weaknesses. They know they are the master, not I. Polyester, silk, cotton, wool, cashmere. Religious and casual, embroidered and sequined, a piano scarf! I have nowhere left to put these motherfuckers. They hang from ceiling fans, the backs of all my chairs, from hangars on doorhandles. Don't inspect my closet, I'll never get it closed again. I was thinking about opening up a scarf museum, but they didn't like that idea. Sometimes, since I can only wear scarves one at a time for a portion of the year, they've all begun getting jealous. My stole threatens me with Hell, but then I wore it to a party and it still made damnation predictions. The academic scarf I found discarded downtown mocks me for my puny high school diploma and trade school certificate. I really don't even want to discuss the violence spoken of by my Brisbane Lions (of the Australian Rules Football) scarf. Some . . . sometimes I dream about them. I'll have one of those claustrophobic dreams, where I'm in a rapidly shrinking room, and right before I get crushed I wake with several scarves wrapped tightly around my throat. I've thought about dumping them all off at the Crowded Closet even though I'm moving to Colorado soon, and they've already had two blizzards by early November. They did not like this idea at all, either.

Um, please send help!

Semi-related note - 'scarf' is definitely one of those words that becomes sludge if you use it a lot in a short amount of time. Try it! Scarf scarf scarf scarf scarf scarf scarf scarf scarf scarf scarf scarf scarf scarf scarf!

• Location: Iowa Shitty
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