What’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is mine too

How long has to pass before you can actually claim something as ‘your thing’? I don’t mean actual, physical property. I abide by the rules of finders keepers, after all, meaning that Audi R8 I found parked around the corner is now mine. I mean, who would leave such a nice car parked in such a public place as their driveway? And why would they lock the thing if it’s only going to have breakable windows on it? And why bother with a keyed ignition system if it can be hotwired? Mere technicalities to try and stand in the way of a perfectly legitimate system of taking things for yourself.

No, I mean ‘things’ like – for example – the aftershave I wear. It’s Hugo Boss… the Hugo Boss one. It has no special name, as far as I’m aware. I’ve been wearing it exclusively for years now, but that’s only because my brother used to (might still) wear it, and as such it’s what I stole from him. When did it go from me copying my brother into being the scent I drench my neck in? A year? Two years? Ten? Regardless, I’m probably going to stop using it after this bottle is done, what with finding out Hugo Boss made the Nazi’s uniforms and all.

Another example – I am in love with the band A Wilhelm Scream, but I did not discover them myself. In fact, it was my friend Tom who said to me “listen to this, I think you’ll like them”. They are now pretty much my favourite thing that does or doesn’t exist. But I can’t call them my discovery, and when did they become my ‘thing’? I think they’re very me, but are they mine?


Anyway, I am now going to the pub. Which is mine. MINE MINE MINE.

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