When I was seventeen, my high schools environmental science class

invented Travel Green Day. On this day, they proposed that students
walk, bike, or carpool to school. They advertised the event by littering
the halls with thousands of paper flyers. What a joke, I thought. I was
determined to expose the hypocrisy.
On Travel Green Day, I woke up half an hour early so I could drive to
school twice. Meaning I literally drove five miles to school, circled the
parking lot, drove five miles back home, and then drove to school
again.
I knew this would offend my environmentally-conscious friends, some
of whom had helped organize the event. So I came armed with an
aerosol can of Pam. When classmates protested my stunt, I sprayed
fake butter and explained that I wouldnt stop spraying until they
stopped talking. If the hole in the ozone layer widens, its your fault, I
insisted.
Lets get one thing straight: this was a dick move. But it felt like a
noble dick move. The event was a sham, a fraud, a phony. The
organizers deserved a dose of satire. Years later, I cant help but
chuckle at the memory.
But I also shake my head. Not because I drove to school twice purely
out of spite, but because I have never felt stronger passion for an
environmental cause than the disgust I harbored for Travel Green
Day. For everything else, the needle barely moves past apathy. Global
warming? Meh, blame the volcanoes. Buy local? Nope, Safeways
closer. Composting bins? Ill use them as long as it takes fewer than
two seconds to determine the refuses biodegradability. Otherwise,
forget itinto the trash it goes.
Most telling, not once have I hurled a ten-gallon bag of trash into the
dumpster and thought, Gee, this is an awful lot of waste to bury in a
landfill.
At least, not until April 2015. For a month, I attempted to produce no
trash or recyclables. I could compost, but that was it.
The experiment was not short on comments from the peanut gallery.
When I explained the challenge to my brother, he retorted, I feel like I
say this every time, but this is the dumbest experiment yet.
Others were simply confused. After outlining the challenge to my
roommate Christina, she stared at me for several seconds. What do
you mean no trash? she said.

Like, no trash, I echoed. No recyclables either.

What?! she gasped. Is that even possible?
Yeah, I said. She gave me a look. Well, Im pretty sure it is, I
clarified.
But I wasnt. My apartment was filled with boxes from Amazon. The
recycle overflowed with cans. The fridge was stuffed with food
containers. Even my pockets served as miniature wastebasketsa
receptacle for wrinkled receipts, ticket stubs, and candy wrappers.
Trash was everywhere. Living without it seemed impossible.
What would I eat? Where would I shop? What could I buy? After a string
of hypotheticals, the answer was clear: Only one way to find out.
Although initially spurred by sheer curiosity, I had deeper motives as
well. As Ive gotten older, Ive grown generally more responsible. But
environmentally, I had changed little from that stubborn seventeen
year-old. In the years since, I did not make the slightest bit of effort to
minimize my footprint. My feet stomped along. A hearty trampling of
the Earths ecosystem, all in a days work.
Ive seen Wall-E. I know how this story ends.
***
Day 1
I got my first taste of what lay ahead at breakfast on Wednesday, April
1.
st

I perused the options at work: cereal in boxes, milk in plastic jugs, and
Greek yogurt in containers. All off limits. I reached for an apple,
bringing it halfway to my mouth before spotting a sticker. Damn.
Defeated, I found a banana sans sticker, dashed out a few almonds
from a tupperware container, and called it a meal.
I knew that I couldnt solely rely on roughage from work. But where
could I acquire food? Safeway, Ralphs, and CVS were plastered with
packaging. While researching options, a name kept popping up:
Rainbow Grocery, a co-op grocery store in the Castro district.
I made the voyage after work. It was like no other grocery store I had

seen. One aisle had monstrous barrels of soap, shampoo, and body
wash, which could be filled and weighed in reusable containers. The
produce looked like it had been plucked that morningthe vegetables
still brushed with dirt. The clientele were almost exclusively
Birkenstock-wearing, bike-riding, alternative-lifestyle-living, crunchy,
granola folks. I fit right in.
Unfortunately, Rainbow Grocery was still not free from waste. The
broccoli was constrained with a rubber band. The pineapple had a tag.
Apples had stickers.
But after some sifting, I found the waste-free itemsRoma tomatoes,
sweet potatoes, onions, and orangesplucking each into a Rainbowprovided compostable bag. I also grabbed some almonds, trail mix,
and spaghetti from the dry goods sectioneverything dispensed from
huge cylindrical containers. I checked out with my own fabric bag,
stunned that all this came without trash.
For my meat, I went to 4505 Meats, a nearby butcher shop. I had a
plan to get around all the paper and wrappings. After perusing the
many scrupmtious options, I asked the spunky redhead working the
counter, Hi there, can I please have three Andouille sausages and a
pound of steak? And I have a favor to ask.
At this point, I unzipped my backpack. She gave me a look. Can you
please place them in these tupperware containers? Im trying to not
produce any trash.
She laughed. Sure. Can you put the tupperware on the counter? Ill
weigh it before I put anything in.
Yep, I said. Awesome, thanks. I hope thats not the weirdest question
youve gotten today.
Dont worry about it.
I had quite the haula good weeks worth of foodand all of it trashfree. I called my mom on my walk home to tell her about my
achievement. After probing the rules of the experiment, she made the
most awkward mom comment ever, chirping, Well I guess this means
you cant use condoms then, right?
Mom! I exclaimed. Couldve done without that.
Oops, sorry sweetie. I should watch what I say when youre doing
these things. I have a feeling that ones going to be immortalized.

But she was right. Condoms were technically out. As were many other
objects. This was my new life. Could I adjust?
That night, while I feasted on my spaghetti with meat sauce, cooked
without a scrap of trash, I realized this was possible. I could make it
through to the other side.
***
Day 3
On Friday, my friends Andrew and Scott invited me to Off the Grid, a
food truck bonanza in Fort Mason.
For the last three days, I had subsisted on my haul from Rainbow
Grocery and 4505 Meats. Off the Grid was my first bout with food in the
wild. The options looked deliciouspierogies, chicken tikka masala
burritos, and Korean barbecue, to name a few.
Still, I couldnt help but notice the side effect. Napkins, containers, and
receipts overflowed the trashcans and littered the sidewalks, laying in
wait for a poor seagull to engulf.
Wait a minute. Poor seagull? Whats going on here? For the first time
in, well, ever, my desire to eat delicious food had been tempered by a
twinge of guilt for the environment.
But I was hungry. And there were a few food trucks that seemed like
promising trash-free options.
I waited in a long line with Andrew at Chairman, an Asian pork bun food
truck. I debated a purchase, waffling on how to explain my
predicament to a busy team of line cooks. When I saw that every step
in the pork bun assembly line featured some type of waste, I chickened
out. Too much explaining. Too many hungry patrons behind me. Too
high a risk for failure.
I met up with Scott, who had a hankering for empanadas. In contrast to
Chairman, the empanada truck looked doable: no line, a two-person
operation, and empanadas placed directly on a steel rack.
As I approached, I took stock of the owner, an alert Mexican man in his
late twenties. Can I please have a pollo empanada? I asked. As he
rang up my order, I added, I also have a favor to ask. Im trying to not
produce trash. Can you just hand me the empanada? Like without a

napkin or a box?
He seemed unfazed by this bizarre request, and translated in Spanish
to his partner. I returned her quizzical look with a sheepish smile.
She grabbed an empanada with tongs and, almost as a reflex, handed
it to me along with a pile of napkins. I thanked her but waved them
away, and tipped them a couple bucks.
I was proud of myself. I savored the buttery chicken and victory in
equal parts.
As we were getting ready to go, a little dog brushed by me. I couldnt
resist giving it a pat. Lucky, as its owner was a cute girl. We talked and
flirted a bit. When she was distracted by her dog, I turned to Andrew. I
think Im gonna get her number, I said. Do you want to go after?
He deadpanned, I thought you werent producing trash this month.
That was it. I couldnt do it. I just waved and walked away.
***
Day 4
Where do I draw the line?
The experiment seemed simple at the outset: cant produce any trash
or recyclables. I stuck by a few firm rules:
- Rule #1: Cant toss anything in a wastebasket or recycle bin.
- Rule #2: Cant eat any food wrapped in non-biodegradable material.
- Rule #3: Cant pass the buck. Meaning, a friend cant buy me a
sandwich, throw away the wrapper, and then hand the now trash-free
sandwich over to me.
But the rules left room for grey areas.
Food from work, for starters. Although I didnt produce any trash when
consuming it, the catered food didnt just fall out of the sky. Lunch and
dinner came in big aluminum trays. However, the bigger waste seemed
to leave the food uneaten. I couldve been influenced by not wanting to
spend a mountain of money on another insane diet, but either way, I
deemed it OK.
Another quandary: I was fiddling with a pen cap and accidentally

snapped it in two. I stashed the broken pieces in my pocket. When I got

home, I shoved them in my sock drawer. But it felt like I was just
delaying the inevitableeventually I would throw the pen cap away. So
did I break Rule #1? I wasnt so sure.
And receipts? If I explicitly ask for no receipt, but the machine prints it
anyway, did I produce trash by association? It seemed unavoidable, but
still.
What about haircuts? Do barber shops compost hair? Do they also
compost the little white paper neck protectors? I would find out that
my local barber shop does both, in what I have to assume was one of
the stranger pre-appointment conditions.
It only got weirder from there. Is picking boogers trash? Is shitting?
What about toilet paper? Can I not even wipe my own ass this month?
And where does masturbation fit into all this? Can I no longer use
tissues? Theoretically, they were compostable. But the very thought of
worms ingesting my jizz was just too much, even for me.
I concluded that masturbating was alright, but I had to use socks. As I
was going to bed that night, I deliberated which sock would be a
suitable receptacle for my sperm. I settled on a pair of white athletic
socks. Might as well color match.
While drifting off to sleep, the questions of waste and my role in them
fluttered through my head. And the fact that I had spent so much time
thinking about these absurd exceptions, however gross, or strange, or
odd, showed that I was making progress.
***
Day 7
I could feel my body undergoing a transformation. You are what you
eat. And a week in, mine was a waste-free machine.
I didnt eat processed foods. Consumed no added sugar. No bread
either. I mostly ate meats, vegetables, and nuts. My meat was of the
highest quality. My produce was fresh from the farm. My fruits were
big, juicy, and colorful. I had found my new favorite snack in Rainbow
Grocerys trail mix. And it was all locally grown, and all brought to me
without a scrap of trash.
I felt better. More spritely. Lived with a bit more vivacityit was fun, all
this delicious cooking of primo ingredients. I kept up with walking to

work and going to the gym, so I looked good too. My face looked
thinner. My stomach felt flatter.
I was in overall good spirits. Before I started, I was sure I was going to
regret doing this. That living without trash would be too burdensome.
But it was invigorating.
There were a few subtle shifts in my diet. Like coffee. For years, I had
taken it with milk and sugar. But now I took it black. I felt pretty cool
about it too.
Alcohol was mostly no bueno. It came in cans, bottles, and handles.
But of course, I found a valid loophole: keg beer. Kegs were reusableI
could drink all the beer on draught that I liked. So the Friday before I
did. I wish I could blame this on a bad reaction to my new diet, but its
happened many a time before: I puked. I no longer had much appetite
for beer.
I also couldnt mooch food from friends. This was proving difficult. I
wont lie: I revel in a good sample. My passion for other peoples food
knows no bounds. Lord knows Id been temptedfrom a friends french
fries, to a co-workers cheese plate, to my roommates lentil soup. But
they all failed rule #3: Cant pass the buck. Their food always came
with trash. And thus, there was no more sampling.
But other than that, there wasnt much I craved. Cheap foodscandy,
chips, sodanow felt cheap. My diet was much more fulfilling. Any
food craving could be stymied with a delicious steak and a sweet
potato.
I was surprised to admit it, but I didnt miss much from my old life of
waste.
***
Day 10
Flossing. It hit me while brushing my teeth that morning and feeling
the gunk between my gums.
Dental floss was trash, and I hadnt used it since I started. I fantasized
about getting in there and going to town.
I actually miss flossing. Go figure.
***

Day 11
I made it 9 days without producing trash, then had two trash
infractions in less than 24 hours. Dammit.
The first occurred at, of all places, Panda Express. I craved greasy chow
mien and tangy orange chicken. Pandas to-go boxes were
compostable, which meant that if I brought my own silverware, refused
a bag, and rejected a fortune cookie (blasphemous, but necessary), I
could safely eat there.
If only I had stuck to the plan. As I was preparing to order, the pimply
Asian teenager asked, Would you like a sample?
Never one to turn down free food, I replied, Yeah, Ill try the Shanghai
Angus Beef.
Out came a toothpick in a wrapper. I wilted. Trash. I couldnt pass the
buck back to the server. The deed was done. I ate the sample, and
stashed the wrapper in my pocket.
Ironically, the second infraction occurred while I sat to write about the
first.
My writing haven is YakiniQ, a coffee shop two blocks from my
apartment. I order the same drink every timea latte. To avoid the
paper cup, I asked for it for here.
I couldve specified furtherlike in a mug. I couldve stood at the
counter and watched the barista prep and pour. But I didnt. I watched
from afar as she poured my latte right into a paper cup.
My heart sunk. I considered saying, I actually ordered this for here.
Can you pour it into a mug? But the cup had already been soiled. No
passing the buck. Better it be my burden.
I determined that Id have to carry around my trash with me at all
times. Because Im sure as shit not going to throw it away. I kept the
coffee top in my backpack and the placed the toothpick wrapper
behind my iPhone.
Of all things to snag me fucking coffee and shitty Chinese food.
But gotta live to fight another day. Back on the horse.

***
Day 16
A fair warning: in five sentences, you may feel the desire to skip this
entry. Ill be the first to admit it: things took a disgusting turn on Day
16. If youd prefer ignorance, by all means, jump ahead to Day 18. But
boy, do I have a story for the rest of you.
Halfway into the experiment, I decided to stop using toilet paper. I just
couldnt justify it any longer. Toilet paper is wrapped both in and on
trash. Its waste. Plain and simple.
It would have been easy to make an exceptionto rationalize my way
out. The alternative was less than ideal. But it was time. I was ready.
It started on Monday, April 13 . I refrained from using toilet paper after
my morning shit, opting instead to clean myself directly in the shower.
If I had a word to describe the rest of my morning, it would be squishy.
th

After lunch, I realized I had to go again. Only problem was that my

work did not have a shower in the bathroom. It did, however, have a
bidet.
If youre unaccustomed, a bidet is a water spout that, for lack of a
better description, cleans your butthole. Its normal in most parts of
the world, but not in the U.S. To put it bluntly, it weirded me the fuck
out.
I approached with apprehension. It appeared to be controlled by a dial.
I tested the bidet by flipping the dial. Water shot with such force that it
blasted the opposite wall.
Nope. No way. Not today.
I used toilet paper at work that Monday. Same story on Tuesday and
WednesdayI just couldnt work up the courage to confront the
bathroom Super Soaker. But on Thursday, April 16
th

I marched into the bathroom at work and plopped down. After I did my
business, I reached for the dial. I hunched over and kept my eye on the
spout.
I turned the dial ever so slightly. Water sputtered.
Turned it a bit more. Water swelled to a small parabola.

Turned it a bit more. The stream arced upward, an inch away.

It was like a horror moviethe protagonist creeping down the hall, one
step at a time, hand reaching for the doorknob
I took a breath, and turned once more.
Theres no other way to put it: ice cold water shot right up into my
butthole. I grimaced. Tried to swirl around a bitcover all the surface
area. After 5 seconds of brutal discomfort, I shut it off.
I reached for a blue dish towel that I had brought from home, and
wiped. When I was done, the towel was tinted a dark green. I doused it
in Febreeze, stuffed it into a compostable bag, and slunk back to my
desk. When no one was looking, I stashed the bag in the bottom of my
backpack.
Since I was still at work, I tried to go about the rest of my day as if
everything was normal.
But it wasnt. Anything but. Thats what my life had become. Wiping
my ass with a dish towel.
***
Day 18
Other than my new bodily habits, my life had settled into routine. In
the morning, I rooted around in the fridge. All my food was locked into
oversized containers, which took up nearly half the space. I generally
settled on a delicious breakfast of eggs and sausages
I tossed the eggs into a compost bin (eventually the egg carton, which
is compostable, would go there as well).
Earlier in the week, I had hit Rainbow Grocery and 4505who now
recognized me as the guy who brought his own tupperware. Although I
was fairly stocked, I was running low on fruit.
A few blocks away was a nearby farmers market. Even there, about
half the items were off limitswrapped in some sort of rubber band or
plastic wrap. Id haul in apples, sweet potatoes, oranges, and brussels
sprouts.
I spent a good deal of time examining the raspberry and blackberry

stand. Insert dialog here. (I found out that their container was
compostable as well, after much pestering of the poor food stand
owner),
Went to the farmers market today. Its funny, asking for no bags or
rubber bands jolts people out of their routines. The guy at the eggs
was like, Man, are you sure? I meekly explained the month and the
no trash, and he still started putting a rubber band on there anyway.
He just shrugged and said, Alright. And handed me a half-closed box
of eggs. I was pretty careful with them.
I stayed in that night. My life was boring, so many options in the world
closed to me. But I was doing it.
***
Day 23
When I do an experiment, its like a black hole that consumes those
around me. And the most powerful gravitational pull is with my
roommates.
When I got home from work that night, Christina was making dinner. I
sat on the couch and watched TV while she cooked a zucchini pasta
dish. Like a good roommate, she piped up, Want to try some?
"I cant, I replied. You put Parmesan from the bottle on there."
"Oh crap, she said. Delicious smells wafted from the kitchen. I
should've only put it on half so you can have some.
"No, it's alright. Besides, you stored the zucchini in a bag."
"Yeah sorry."
"It's cool, I said, fiddling with the remote. I already had this
conversation with myself. Resigned myself to none of your food.
"That sucks, she replied. One of the best parts about eating is trying
bites."
Yep, I said flatly.
We had cherries that I bought from the farmers market as a late night
snack. I watched her take a cherry, walk to the kitchen, and heard the
tell-tale sign of a bottom cupboard closing. Christina, where did you

throw your cherry pit? I asked.

She looked at me. Guilty. She ran to the kitchen, opened the cupboard,
rummaged around, then closed it again. Its in the right spot now,
she said.
Now I was the one peer pressuring. Quite the role reversal. And it
didnt stop with one roommate; I had another: Brink.
Brink is your quintessential California stoner. When hes not high, hes
a normal guy. But hes almost always high. Hell end each workday
with several massive bong rips. For the rest of the night, he usually
does one of two things: mumble to himself or snore.
For whatever reason, on that particular night, supremely-baked Brink
decided to take out the trash. I accompanied him with my compost.
Our buildings garage has three recycling bins, a trash dumpster, and
three green compost bins. Its very straightforward. The bins are even
labeled with their respective brand of refuse.
I walked to the compost bins and deposited my weeks waste.
Brinktwo paper Trader Joes bags in one hand, one bag of trash in the
otherwas still studying the bins. It was like he had never taken out
the trash in his life.
"Need some help dude?" I offered.
He looked up, eyes glazed. Yeah. Which one is the recycle?"
I pointed. Those three on the right. Everyone is recycle except for that
one, I said pointing to the left, which is the trash.
Got it, he replied. He walks to where I just pointedthe dumpster.
"No dude, not that one. Thats the trash. I pointed to the right. Those
are the recycle."
Before the statement could register, the garage door opened. A car
came and we scattered to let it through.
I had long finished this basic task, but Brink was still having trouble.
Lets go man, I said.
Finally, Brink beelined for the dumpster and deposited all three bags.

This sparked an internal debate. I know at least one of those bags is

recycle. But this is not my problem. What am I supposed to cover for
every dumbass that doesnt know the difference between trash and
recycle? But it is right there. Wouldnt take much extra effort
As we were waiting for the elevator, I asked, "Brink, are you sure that
was all trash?
I could see the wheels grinding, however slowly.
Nah."
I went back to the dumpster. One bag was filled with cans, bottles, and
cardboard. Clearly recycle. I moved it accordingly.
It hit me: Ive become one of those people that seventeen-year-old me
used to despise. I actually care about reducing wasteenough to
literally go out of my way. Im not content to minimize just my own
footprint, but others. One step away from weekend beach clean-ups
and save the environment rallies.
The no trash experiment had permeated my thoughts. For whatever
reason, whenever I saw trash on the ground, I thought of the Great
Pacific garbage patch. Just this enormous vortex of trash swirling in the
Pacific Ocean. About how if the human race goes extinct tomorrow, the
most damning evidence of our existence is a layer of plastic coating
the Earths crust.
And if I left things a little better than I found them, is that really such a
bad thing?
***
Day 26
I celebrated my fourth weekend without producing trash by, well,
staying in.
For all of its benefits, the no trash and waste experiment didnt lend
itself well to excitement. I hadnt really had a hard night out since I
started this monthkeg beer just didnt seem all that appetizing.
I did hike the beautiful Dipsea Trail on Saturday morning with a few
friends. On the way, we stopped at a gas station to pick up snacks. I
browsed around, looking for my usual optionshoney roasted peanuts,

teriyaki beef jerky, soft drinksand realized that I couldnt buy a single
thing. Not one. Everything was packaged with trash. I stuck to my
Klean Kanteen and trail mix.
Those closed options have clear health benefits. I weighed in at 196
pounds that morningdown 9 pounds from when I started the month. I
was still walking to work and hitting the gym, so my physique was
quite manly.
When I did venture outside the trash-free bubble of my apartment, I
tread carefully. I still went to YakiniQ to write. But after the latte
mishap, I emphasized the latte for here, in a mug, so fervently that
they recognize me as Alex-latte-in-a-mug. At Tommys Joint, I delighted
in brisket and mashed potatoes. But when it came to the bread and
butter, I handed them back that little packet of foil.
As for other weekend plans, my best friend from home, Adam came in
town. He wanted to get lunch, and since he had been in Australia for
the last four months, that meant Mexican food.
I had visions of a burrito, sumptuous and delicious, but covered in
aluminum foil. Or chips, salty and crunchy, but wrapped in paper.
I explained the experiment to Adam. We were a bit baked by now
after all, its what old friends do before Mexican food, get a healthy
buzz goingand I told him the restrictions.
So lets go to the good stuff in the Mission. But Im not producing
trash or recyclables, so are you cool to sit down?
Adam: Oh man, thats what your experiment is right now? Yeah, Im
down. I can produce trash though, right?
Yeah.
Adam burst out laughing. What? I said.
I should preface this with Adam is one of the smartest people I know.
He can also be a complete idiot under the influence of marijuana.
Dude maybe Im really baked, but my next question was going to be,
Well, can I just eat your trash then?
I lost it. If thats not an anti-marijuana pitch, I dont know what is.
Trash: My Anti-Drug.
At the Mexican place, I very carefully articulated my order. Can I get a

taco plate with chicken and al pastor, for here? Like on a plate? I
made a big circle with my hands, to underscore said plate. And can I
please have a side of guacamole, but can you just put that on the plate
for me as well? At this point I made a flipping motion with my hand.
Like, just scoop it on there?
She looked at me blankly. What do you mean?
Like, not use one of those little plastic cups, I said, pointing to the
offending plastic. Just put it directly on the plate.
She seemed to get it. But when I got it later, the guacamole came in a
plastic cup. Goddamnit. A minor infraction, but I had a solution.
Adam, do you want my guacamole?
Yep, he said, accepting it gladly.
Just another moment where the outside world had burned me in my
quest to live without trash. Not even guacamole was safe.
Sitting in that Mexican restaurant, I looked around me. The bin was
overflowing. How many bins were overflowing in San Francisco at this
moment? One thousand? Ten thousand? And California? A million trash
bins? And the world? A billion bags of trashed produced a day? What
does it all mean? What proportion of the earths crust has trash on top
of it?
To think of all of us and our trash. Its staggering. Where does it go?
Can we go on like this forever? Just hope that technology catches up?
What if macrobiotic plastic-eating bacteria grow to rule the world?
And its questions like these that leave me wondering. I instead chose
to enjoy my carne asada tacos. And if they didnt come with
guacamole, then so fucking be it.
***
Day 30
I woke up, stretching my arms high over my head. Last day of the no
trash experiment.
I padded to the kitchen and grabbed a couple breakfast sausages,
purchased from 4505 Meats and stored in one of my hulking
tupperware containers. I placed them on a heated stove, the contact
emitting a satisfying sizzle.

I plopped down for my morning shit (sorry to those of you that skipped
Day 16s entryitll all be over soon). I dont use toilet paperinstead
opting to hop into the shower. I cleaned myself using a bar of rumspiced soap from the farmers market.
Got dressed. Refrained from using hair product or face moisturizer. Just
hoping that my ol un-pampered mug was suitable enough for the
world.
I walked back to the kitchen and flipped the sausages. I fried up a few
eggs, tossing the eggshells into a little green bin under the sink.
When breakfast was done cooking, I pulled out a ceramic plate and
silverware and chowed down. It was goddamn delicious.
When I got into the office, I composted yesterdays coffee grinds, and
made a fresh batch. I wrote a few words about the day before, sipping
black coffee in my ceramic dinosaur mug.
For lunch, I headed to Chipotle, making sure to get a burrito bowl for
hereno aluminum foil, no drink, no receipt. I reached into my
backpack to fish out a fork I brought from home, and delighted in my
Chipotle. When I was done, I tossed the cardboard bowl into the
compost. I noticed there was someone elses aluminum foil in the
compost. I moved it to the recycle.
On my walk back to the office, I saw trash on the sidewalk. It made me
sad. I considered picking it up and putting into the trash can, but kept
walking instead. A piece of lint clung to my shoe. I almost brushed it off
onto the sidewalkthinking a bird could use it for its nest (what birds?
what nest?)but I picked it up and stuck it in my pocket instead.
Midway through the day, I got a hankering for a snack. I reached into
my backpack and pulled out my compostable bag of trail mixsweet
and salty from Rainbow Grocery. Its delicious.
I finished my workday. I went home and cooked up a steak, steamed a
sweet potato, and sauted spinach. Its an awesome dinner. For dessert,
I have a compostable container of chocolate almond butter from
Rainbow Grocery. Its fucking amazing.
I watch TV, read, play piano, and go to bed. And that was that.
Seems like a normal day, no? (Well, maybe with one exception.) I woke,
I ate, I worked, I goofed around, and I slept.

And thats kind of the point. Before I started, I thought that a life
without trash or recyclables might not be possible. Or if it was, it would
be extremely inconvenient. But it wasnt. It really wasnt.
In fact, the things that were different were good things. I shopped at
new stores. Better stores. My food was a bit more expensive, but it was
much higher quality. I drank less booze, spent less money at bars, and
bought less useless stuff. My life was simpler, more streamlined. And it
wasnt much extra effort.
Although the diet had an influence on my body, it had changed my
mind and heart too. I feel good that Im helping the environment. I
think about where every piece of my trash goes when Im done with it.
And gratitude for the chance to experience life like this. Hoping that Ill
be able to keep a few habits.
Epilogue
Im writing this in January 2016. Almost nine months later. Whats
stuck? What hasnt? What did I get out of it?
Well there are some very basic things. In between sentences, I reached
for my coffeeblack. I kind of enjoy the bitterness now. When I went to
YakiniQ this weekend to write, I asked for a latte. I didnt even have to
specify for here. They just automatically bring it to me in a mug.
Im not so great at composting at home. Its just too gross. Ive left
eggshells in there, or other gross stuff, and literal fungus has grown. It
smells disgustingnoxious, has potential to cause death.
But I am much better about recycling. All the stuff I would throw away
before I started the no trash monthmail, cardboard, plastic packaging
I now throw in the recycle. I probably even put stuff in the recycle
thats actually trash. But, whats the worst that happens? They throw it
away?
Much to my disappointment, I dont really shop at Rainbow Grocery, or
local butcher shops, or farmers markets. Convenience and Safeway
won out. I still feel guilty about it when I walk into the store.
When I go out to eat and they have compost, I very carefully separate
out my biodegradable items, recyclable items, and trash. I take more
than 5 seconds to do this, but less than 10. And I feel better about it
each time.

Also, whenever I throw anything away, bar none, I always think. Is this
trash? Could I have done without producing this? Was it worth it? I may
ignore the questions, but I still have them.
I genuinely think that trash and recyclables is going to be one of the
harbingers of doom of my generation. So much waste, wheres it all
going to go? Whats our plan? Are we stuck with this mountain of
waste? Will the story really end like Wall-E predicted it?
I cant know. The world is too big of a place. Too much out of my
control.
But as for whats in my control? I recycle more. Im a big fan of
reusables. I compost when I can. I am less wasteful.
What did I get out of it? Well, I cracked that last remaining bit of
teenager immaturitymy attitude towards the environment. I
accomplished something that I thought was impossible. I realized that
these experiments dont have to be a grindthey can be fun.
Enjoyable. Vivacious.
That there is an option. A choice.
Humanity does not have a preset to produce waste. And neither do I.