Open your bag
The so-called: Every Day Carry
My almost every day Carry. My someday carry. My manyday carry. My contentious relationship with this Klättermusen bag, a Swedish bag, a so-called neoclassical bag, a bag named Flinta, a bag I’ve owned for years but only recently used in earnest. A bag made of durable materials — highly recyclable materials. They — Klättermusen — will recycle this bag for me, so it says on the gigantic tag inside. A minimal bag. Although it was not minimal when purchased. It had other straps and bungees and waist belts. I removed or cut them off with my tiny knife, owning one of which is a prerequisite to being an EDC Person. It seems as if you must own a knife or gun. I chose knife. I hope I am not judged too harshly for this choice. The knife is very small. It is for utility not malice nor defense. In Japan, where I live many months of the year, knife laws are strict and I prefer not to be thrown into a Japanese prison, although it must certainly be less horrible than an American prison. Still, it is prison. With this extremely tiny serrated knife, named the enigmatic Spyderco Manbug, I open packages of toilet paper delivered by Amazon and easily sliced off the extra straps from this Klättermusen bag named Flinta. A quite expensive bag. With undoubtably expensive straps. Handwoven by large-handed Swedish men and women. They are gone now from this world (the straps? the men? the women?), but more importantly to the conversation at hand, from this bag. A bag simple, sometimes too simple (which is partially my fault), with only one external pocket and upon which I have affixed a small pouch, called the Communicator Pocket, to the shoulder strap. It’s a good little pouch. But it, too, was expensive. Damn this company. Everything by this company is expensive but feels nice to the touch. If it were food we would say: Excellent mouth feel. Like how tiny pickles in curry make it crunch satisfyingly. That is how it feels in the hand.
The Communicator Pocket: it holds my phone, an iPhone 6, when it is not in its leather case. How I long to never case my phones, but this one is just a bit too slippery. Jony Ive, you are the devil. Why did you make it so slippery? This shoulder pouch also holds my wallet, which is deliberately tiny so I do not fill it with point cards. Everyone wants to give me a point card. I say, No, thank you. I say, I do not believe in point cards. They then look at me funny as if I am an affront to their philosophy of being. Perhaps I am. Me and my anti- point card didacticisms. Quiet now, shopkeeper. You cannot convince me otherwise, and, furthermore, more pragmatically, my wallet is not big enough for your point cards. So philosophically opposed or not, my hands are tied. Deliberately. (Because I oppose your cards.)
Within the main compartment of the slightly too expensive Klättermusen bag named the effeminate Flinta goes my MacBook Air, 13”, 2012 model. It slides with satisfyingly little clearance into its artisanal felt sleeve replete with leather grab tab. The sleeve was purchased on Etsy. (I feel no conflict of masculinity in telling you that because I also own the knife.) The Etsy sleeve is stained by black elderberry juice. Soon the whole contraption will be replaced by a 12” MacBook. The one from the future with no ports. This portless future intrigues me because of the exhausting nature of plugging things in. Sometimes Jony Ive and I are syncretic in our design theologies. Alongside the MacBook (Air) is the MD Note notebook, made in Japan and almost impossible to get elsewhere in the world, wrapped in a pleasing cloth cover to which I affix a Copic Multiliner SP 0.5 Waterproof felt pen and sometimes a light grey Copic marker and red Copic marker. You can visualize almost anything with a black pen, light grey marker, and red marker. If you are colorblind, this is an excellent combination.
Upon my wrist previously dwelt an Omega Dynamic III Automatic, a watch from 1997. In part, it is a goofy watch. Is it the goofiest watch Omega has ever made?, you may ask. Perhaps!, I may answer. I did not buy this. I have issues with spending lots of money on a watch. Instead, it was given to me by a dear friend many years ago. It has become dear to me. It has an endearing and enduring goofiness that, over time, becomes beautiful. I love this watch in spite of its myriad flaws and confused numerals. Who designed these numerals? Was it you Jony Ive? I would not put it past you. But, woe, for some months it was no longer upon my wrist. The Apple Watch was upon my wrist. About this I was conflicted but, for various reasons, I lived with this decision. Then, one day, I removed the Apple Watch. I put back on the goofy Omega. There was no Watch yearning. The Apple Watch now belongs to my friend’s son. Next to the watch — Omega— rests a set of juzu, or buddhist prayer beads. I purchased them at Koyasan (one of my very favorite places in the world). Upon them is inscribed the Hannya Shingyo sutra. It is pretentious and confuses people. They think: Why does this white man wear these beads? He’s got that shifty look of a drifter about his eyes. He must love Japan. Well, yes, but, objectively, they are hewn from an aromatic cedar and make beautiful clacking noises and therefore are a comforting thing to every day carry. They also remind me that in the darkest hours, in the most horrible throes of knife law violation imposed forced prison labor, in the most depraved moments of Etsy binging, you can eventually run away from it all and become a monk. Which I believe, categorically, is Jony Ive’s next move.
The expensive Klättermusen bag has but one external pocket. Within that pocket live the other Everyday Objects. Do you wish to know about these Everyday Objects? Let me explain. There are the prescription sunglasses, Cutler and Gross. They were costly because they are prescription but over time they have proven to feel surprisingly badly made. I cannot recommend them without grave reservations. There is the WiFi puck, unlimited in its bandwidth, LTE fast, costing about $35 United States Dollars a month, usable only in Japan, a country that has things like unlimited, laughably inexpensive, high-speed, WiFi pucks. There are my keys, which are normal and boring. There is a business card case, given to me years ago, the precise provenance of which is unknown. There is a Crank Bros multi-tool for doing important things to bicycles. There is an Anker external battery, because the stress of the Modern Man is largely modulated by the remaining battery in his Smart Things. There is the almost weightless Samsung 500gb external SSD. Pick it up, marvel at its weightlessness. It is where the photography archives live.
And finally, speaking of photography, around my shoulder and atop my chest, on certain days — days traveling or otherwise special, but not, necessarily, every day — is a camera. The strap is leather and has been in use continuously. Leather is a good material. It can be timeless. It endures. It, like a well chosen watch strap, can transform the entirety of the object. Years ago that leather strap was attached to a Nikon 4004s, and then an Fm2, and then a D70, and then a GF1, and then a GX1, and then I publicly renounced all cameras in favor of my iPhone 5, which had no native mechanism about which to attach a strap. I have lived some years and hope to live some more. Someday, however, I may be murdered by a man with a camera. In that moment I will not perish with a surprised look on my face. He will yell, Cameras will never die, you fool! And as I try to explain myself: darkness. And so to you I offer a single piece of advice: Do not infuriate the Camera People. Hell hath no fury like scorned geekery. Despite my renunciations, recently I was seduced by the siren call of the Fuji X100T. I bought it, if only to confuse myself. And while I enjoy and respect it, revere it, even, it is with me infrequently. Its Value Proposition is dubious. And so mainly I photograph only with my iPhone 6, which is pleasing, and networked, and does an exceptional job and rarely, if ever, lets me down. It lives each day comfortably in the Communicator Pocket belted onto my Klättermusen Flinta backpack, the backpack that feels to the hand not unlike curry with tiny pickles to the mouth.
This is my carry. My almost everyday, somedays, manydays carry. There are many like it, but this one is mine. It is a good buddy, and I know it pretty well, but without me, my carry is useless. I vow to carry this carry in good faith, for the benefit of many, until victory is had, and there is no enemy, but peace. Thank you.
