The bag that broke the lady's back

I just looked in my purse and the utter ridiculousness of what I saw there inspired me to dedicate an entire post to it. Currently, right now, right this moment, as we speak, my purse contains the following items (and this list is not inclusive): a wallet that will not close because it's too full, an umbrella, Vaseline (don't judge), a glasses case, antibiotics, the current issues of both New York and the New Yorker, pepper spray, a digital camera, blogger business cards, ear muffs, gloves, and, naturally, a framed copy of a letter Robert Mapplethorpe wrote to Patti Smith in 1969, which is obviously going on the wall in my new apartment.

 

None of this, of course, includes girly stuff like lipstick, chapstick, lotion and tampons, all of which are, yes, also in my purse. I'm not even kidding, this shit weighs like 15 pounds. What's in your purse right now? Murses can also submit. I don't discriminate by gender.

In other mundane news, I chopped off all my hair this weekend.

I figure the weight in my purse sort of counterbalances the new lack of weight on the top of my head, or something.

And now I have this image in my mind of a woman walking around New York with a bag full of her  own hair, and I am freaked out. Happy Monday.

Oh, and here's the text of the letter, dated September 1, 1969, written from the Hotel Chelsea:

Soakie* -

Sitting in our room – waiting for you – Thinking of all that we have gone through – knowing we have somehow done it together.

And it will always be that way- Loving you-

We’ll have a real home soon one way or another – and it’s then that we’ll be famous – with or without the rest of the world –
Just you & me together – 
Drawing, writing and loving each other –

Love you always,
Blue

*He called her this because apparently she cried a lot, and very easily. Appropriate, since I cried buckets the first time I read this.