Where The Magic Happens

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This is where I am sitting right now. This is command central. You can see our Sumo, and the sweater-vest chair wrap the woman on the verge made, and the rug that really ties the room together.


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This is Mickey and Sandburg's Lincoln, both of which look over my shoulder as I type.




It's only the war years, people. It's not like I have all thirteen volumes.



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Okay, on the shelf above Mickey and Carl Sandburg are:

Blocks our friend Allene gave us for christmas with mad scientists and robots etched into the wood.
An African mask made of hide and animal quills perched on top of a glass vase.
A glass skull decanter filled with red dye number four and water.
A bronze buddha with it's head JB welded back on, sent to us from the monk.
Above them all is Duane Kaiser's tomato painting.


They all keep watch over me as well.


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dolltooth hangs over the television. she stands in the drawer of an ancient korean chest I nailed to the wall one day.

I nailed up the drawer, not the whole chest.



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And, yes, we have a television.


In our defense, it is not connected to broadcast T.V. or cable. It just gets Netflix instant streaming and odd DVD's.


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Like we like.



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I wanted to post these photographs as a way of saying thank you to all of you for everything you bring to our lives.


I wanted to open up the door a bit and let you take a peek.


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Thank you. I'm damn glad you keep coming by.



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Namaste.



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I know I am indebted.


I am awkward about it.


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