Eat This Book
Can you imagine a world without landfills, dumps, or garbage?
Such a world could exist if everything you ever bought, made, or used remained in your life forever: jewelry and artwork as well as broken shoe laces, paperclips, used envelopes, love letters, tissues, bath water, banana skins, burned out light bulbs, spent oil, food wrappings, diplomas, batteries, shoes, your refrigerator, car, computer, and the myriad other material objects with which your form a relationship.
If you were a resident in such a waste-free zone, you would be obliged to manage your material belongings when you were alive. When you die, this entire accumulation would be inherited by your descendents who would bequeath them to their descendents in an ever escalating, multi-generational inheritance. Your tastes and behaviors would determine if your material legacy will be a pleasure or a burden, an asset or a life sentence.
Having just written a 370 page book, I fret as much about sales as lack of sales. Will those who acquire a copy support the judicious reuse of rejected and defunct materials once they no longer have use for this book?
Will they avoid the declaring ‘death’ to the book – declaring the ‘dead-serious’ verdict that it is ‘dead-capital’.
Thus, I am providing them with the following ways to integrate this book into the never-ending cycling of earthly matter. Which would you choose?
You give it to a friend?
You toss it in the compost where it degrades?
You burn it to create warmth and light?
You use it to prop open your window?
You display it on a coffee table?
You use the pages to wrap your sandwich?
You hollow it out to form a secret compartment?
You grind it up to make new paper?
You use the pages for insulation?
You eat it as fiber for your diet?
You mulch your plants with it?
You relay the contents of the text to your friends?
You use it as a medium for art making?
You place it in a municipal recycling bin?