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Let's start over here by the door, where you would enter the room if you were ever lucky enough to know me. First of
all, yes, the room is a dark pinkish color. My sister painted it like this when she lived here. And, yes, I hate it, but not
enough to actually put forth any effort to change it. Anyway, lots of important stuff here: Not important enough to keep organized,
obviously, but important enough not to throw away. Hanging by the door, a small mirror, and one of those fake magazine cover
pictures that you get at amusement parks.
The Confederate National Flag, and a demon skull, and more shelves
Three lucky Buddhas, an action figure of The Lawgiver from Battle For The Planet of The Apes (he's like the
Ape Jesus I think), and a Samurai Batman action figure.
Look at all the crap on my walls! That's an actual Klingon sword, all my spiky leather things, resistance bands, a framed
Batman poster and the Ramones. My bedclothes are leopard print. Because I am a wildman
The area beside my dresser is used as storage space, to supplement all the crap that's jammed into the bottom of my closet
(closet not pictured). There's a picture of Robert E. Lee, and another calendar, this one from the Buddhist Temple.
In case you were wondering where I came by my zen-like acceptance of disorder.
This is Bobo. I just added him to the Magic Room. Now every morning when I get up I say "Good morning, Bobo" while he,
of course, just stands there, saying nothing. And sometimes I like to imagine that, in another age, another time, Bobo was
a great warrior whose life I saved in battle, and he has since devoted his life to my service, wearing the traditional garb
of the serving class and holding the ceremonial Plate of Thanksgiving. And then I like to go to bed.
I got this fan tower at Wal Mart last summer and at night it kept looking at me like this sinister one-eyed robot, the
kind you see on Mystery Science Theater 3000. So I bought a hat for it and I call it Uncle Sam.
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