I recently received stigmata from Manhattan Mini Storage. I rented a 10X10X10 space to store some goodies, and the top of the storage unit is like a grate. Essentially, I unknowingly grated the skin off the back of my hand while there 3 weeks ago.
As I sat in my cube going through some personal treasures/trash, I started to notice a presence of fresh, wet blood coating EVERYTHING. As I examined the tight space, I realized that my hand was gushing blood. Fortunately, I found a shirt amongst my plasma covered belongings and fashioned myself a tourniquet from an old Cartoon Network, Super Friends T-shirt. Although I sat alone bleeding, because of my proximity to LES, East Village and Williamsburg I could sense a collective cry from the denizens as I sullied this perfectly good hipster garb.
I bled and organized. I organized and bled. As I sat and bled and organized, in the beginning of this new chapter that is my life, I opted to purge a lot of my belongings – my very personal belongings. Out went books and books of drawings, writings, musings. I threw away toys, even some Nightmare Before Christmas stuff. This time the collective cry sensed was coming from inside myself (daniel, danny, and dan) and not the ironic shirt wearing NYU kids. I tossed an original Fisher Price tape recorder that I have had since I was 5 years old. I ditched credit card receipts and personal information, I disposed love letters that I have received from others, and diaries that I had personally kept on a somewhat regular basis. Stickers, clothes, kitchen ware, tapes, Cd’s, I was throwing them around like they belonged to a stranger. Which at that point, was true. It is not that I don’t know who I was a year ago, 5 years ago, whenever – its that its not me now. The importance that I had previously placed on these items had waned over the last year. Probably longer.
These mounting items, did not really get thrown out as much as they were left in a heaping pile in the MIDDLE of the hallway at Manhattan Mini Storage.
(To: Manhattan Mini Storage – Your ads in subways and around town are fun and cool. However, that does not excuse you from not putting trash cans on each floor, for your customers to use at their discretion).
The pile of belongings I was discarding was getting larger and larger, and the t-shirt was getting more saturated with blood by the minute. I could feel myself getting weaker and starting to sway from the blood loss. Everytime the blood coagulated and formed some kind of scab on the shirt, I would rip it away and the blood would start pouring again.
I purged blood and belongings, both of which were extremely personal and hence could be directly traced back to my person. I just wanted it gone. It was time to start a new, fresh.
A young, hipster girl came by to attend to her own personal items in a neighboring storage unit. I told her, that she was welcome to go through my stuff and take what she wanted.
As this stranger sorted through my mess of a life, I finished up grabbing what I needed and left. This girl tracked me down through MYSPACE. She sent me the following message. I found it interesting that as I sorted my life, both literally and figuratively in that cube, that… well… just read.
I am not sure you remember me.
A few weeks ago you left some things at Manhattan Mini Storage and said I could take anything from the pile.
My roommate has the Adult Swim Shirt and wears it all the time. I really hope she’s washing it…
But yes…I have to thank you. I don’t usually believe in fate. I don’t really believe in anything at all most of the time…religion-wise. I find religion a nuisance.
But the stuff you left behind made me realize that this world is full of so many options and so many choices. Like in a weird way it was supposed to be there waiting for me. I have a lot of doubt in myself. And your throw-aways were just what I needed…the irony.
I also took a folder…just FOR the folder, but I didn’t realize what was in it. Business cards and other things. Your resume too. Oh and a…i won’t tell you but…yeah, next time…put some of that stuff in the shredder. There are creeps out there. (credit card companies are wonderful) But I’ll recycle that stuff so no one will get it and abuse it.
I sound like a stalker/creep? Ugh! great. Can’t it just be admiration for your illustrations and all the places you worked at? You have done a lot in such a short amount of time and I am envious.
You left your resumes in the folder. It’s an awesome list, but I am going to have to give you my artistic critique on the layout. Take it as a compliment actually. my art snobbish-ness is coming out:
The way you laid it out…it isn’t really you. I don’t know how to explain it, but something is missing. Like who you are inside is not in the resume. The way you draw (in a typing sense) doesn’t show up in the resume. I know people tell you no one cares about “the you, you” when they read the resume, but I still believe we are all human and even a resume needs feeling.
I started giving up on my jewelry business, but all the things you have done made me start working on it again.
Thanks for unknowingly helping me,
(her name)
Well, thank you stanger, girl. I am glad and good resume advice, I am actually working on just that thing.
I am still bleeding. Happy Halloween.
Daniel, Danny, Dan
and
Daniel Berman is a cartoonist/ writer/ actor & producer living in New York City. 
