I love clutter. I have piles of stuff where-ever I spend a lot of time. Mister D complains about all of my 'shit piles' everywhere. But I can't live without it. It comforts me. It helps me remember things. If something is put away I tend to forget about it.
When I see a place with a bunch of stuff everywhere (I'm not talking trash everywhere, just useful stuff and knick knacks, etc.) I don't think "God, what a mess." What I do think is "what an interesting arrangement and assortment of items." The things strewn about an environment say a lot about the occupant of that space. (MTV understands this and Room Raiders is based exactly on this idea.) I like to see that information in a place. The items are clues. That clutter helps me better understand that environment. People who like clutter seem to be more open and honest about themselves, more willing to put themselves on display for others to know them.
Feng Shui says that clutter is bad because it blocks or stalls the movement of energy. That clinging energy supposedly makes us feel overwhelmed. But when I am in a very spare and steril place I feel lost and uncomfortable because I have no clues to the environment. There are no random items to help me read the space. Maybe I feel the flow of the unobstructed energy and it is too strong and overwhelming. Maybe some of us need that clutter to slow the energy to a point that we aren't overwhelmed because we are especially sensitive. Since cluttery people are more open and honest (as stated above in case anyone isn't following me, I say this because I'm barely following myself) we naturally would be more vulnerable to excess energy.
I think that the eddied and/or 'stagnant' energy that surrounds clutter is what helps me remember things. I'm a very visual person. I think in images more than with words or whatever else other people might use in their minds. So I remember things by 'seeing' them in my mind. If nothing is in a space then there's nothing to remember. (that sounds zen, but I'm not really trying for that. well, actually I guess that is twisted zen. Ooh, that would be a great name for a band. or a book or something) Well, shit, now I've gone off on a tangent and lost my point. Sorry.
(Oh, I just remembered that at some point I was going to say that the worst thing anyone can do to me is move, rearrange, or otherwise mess with my stuff. Talk about mad, I get really pissed if someone touches my junk. It might look like a pile of garbage to someone else, but to me it's my memory. Everyone who's ever lived with me has learned that I'll fuck you up if you mess with my stuff. I'm talking mostly about my piles of papers everywhere. That's the clutter that I love.)