Headphones: No fewer than three pairs, all experiencing varying degrees of dilapidation. One was the unfortunate victim of a surprise chokehold, another subject to the inclemencies of poor manufacturing and the last ruined by the left ear's mysterious refusal to play music.
Phone: The cell phone that carried me through grades eight to ten, resplendent in the many scrapes it was awarded in careless accident or incensed frustration. For its final year of use it retaliated by refusing to charge without an arduous struggle, leading to its subsequent replacement and current tenure in my junk drawer.
Sumo Dice: Another one of the curious Japanese phenomenon that wound its way into my junk drawer, this souvenir consists of a miniaturized sumo ring and four accompanying dice. By rolling the dice in the ring, they "do battle" in a way that I was assured was culturally symbolic but now realize is simply whoever rolls the highest wins. Which is pretty universal.
Box: Crafted from mahogany and adorned with native carvings, the majesty of the box is tempered somewhat by its contents: A flashlight shaped like an alien, a flashlight not shaped like an alien, assorted foreign currency a swiss army knife, what I think is a trilobite and a monocular. And the infamous blue lighter.
How to Play The Accordion: A book bestowed upon me posthumously by my late maternal grandfather, in all likelihood the final material possession given to me by him. I keep it as a token of the non-material things he gave me as well. Not to mention in the hope that i can eventually manage the acquisition of an accordion and with the help of the dog-eared and yellowed manual master it. I've been told chicks dig the accordion.
There are other things, other random objects of charming uselessness, collectively forming a delegation of junk. Every one of these things has a story. That's why they're still in my junk drawer.
