Wasting Away

While the most substantial changes to my lifestyle, I'm quickly realizing, involve food, there's certainly some other behavioral modification that takes a little getting used to. Take waste, for instance-never an obvious thing to consider too deeply, as our cities have done a pretty good job of removing it all from our consciousness by carting it out of town. Still, waste comes with a number of costs--economic, as NYC pays premium rates to other states like Pennsylvania and Ohio to take our trash; environmental, as lots of waste is burned, a terribly inefficient and highly polluting process; and even social, as eco-justice issues arise as waste transfer and processing plants, as well as actual landfills end up in only the economically challenged areas. On April 4th I was fortunate to see Tim Logan of the Zero Waste NYC campaign talk about all of these issues, and also offer suggestions on how to make your own a zero-waste life.I can't cut waste out entirely--that's already clear. But I have decided to save all the true waste that I generate (that which isn't recyclable, reusable, or compostable), and see what it totals (weight, volume, composition) at the end of the month. This idea was partially inspired by Katherine Hubbard, a Brooklyn artist that I recently caught word of (and who's name I'll try to track down and update herein), who is taking a picture of all the waste she generates every week for a year. This array will actually be featured in GOOD's premier issue. Yet another reason to PICK YOUR CAUSE and SUBSCRIBE NOW! (And, earnestly, they don't pay me to say things like that--in fact they probably cringe at reading it. But come on, donate to a great cause AND get a year of mags? No brainer.)

So every day I'm carting around any waste I generate. And it's pretty remarkable how you'll learn to reuse some things if you've already got them in your possession. An obvious example: napkins. Even the devoutly green new East Village bakery, currently being called the Birdbath hands out a couple of napkins with every whole grain, organic, unprocessed and locally sourced muffin or scone. And this pales in comparison to the thick stacks given out with every coffee or bagel in less environmentally-sensitive outlets. I honestly don't think I'll ever buy napkins again for my NYC apartment. They're everywhere, begging for reuse.

Less obvious inspirations for reuse: paper bags. Smaller, sandwich-sized paper bags--like those given out in any cafe or corner deli--make great envelopes. And recipients of such old-school correspondences think you're super creative.

Soon, when I finally figure out this whole digital camera thing, I'll throw some pics on here that'll showcase these ideas some. Soon.


Previously: And We're Off

Next: Getting Used To It

Ben Jervey is the author of The Big Green Apple