Stolen from the Andy Garcia film set in Denver, my fictional home away from home, and a movie with probably the finest performance by Treat Williams. Well, the decimation is complete. Bob and Kate have on several occasions chided me on tossing out things I might one day regret. Rest assured, the important stuff will be on display in my abattoir again soon. I'll likely relegate the paperbacks to the crawlspace next to the vats of quicklime. As for now, the room is still caked with dust, a similar kind as I see and smell at the graphics shop, its in my ears and in my eyes and I generally feel like Kharis, the Mummy. Hell, I look like him on my best day. The first two photos reflect the dust layered on my jar of several doll heads ( my nieces very much were intrigued by tearing action figures apart when they were younger; I couldn't do the same with my fake-bearded G. I. Joes, the heads were kept taut by rubber bands. I used to hang them from my bedroom window instead, after the commanding officer discovered them with my sisters' Barbies, Midges, and the forgotten Mattel doll of the 70s, Malibu P.J.). Then you see the various bottles in my woeful bottle collection: Night Train (which you can mix with the light blue Aqua Velva to make the $1.77 bottle last longer), Kentucky Nip, and an odd concoction simply called The Drink, a skeletal Elvis warning us "Be Careful Who You Idolize." Next to that, the Elvis candle I received from my cousin Deke Rivers after my novel was published in 1992. Guess my idolization has doomed me already. Next comes the painting, the removal of crappy furniture, and a nice TV and DVD player in my laboratory. I have finally resigned myself to the technology of the new century. And once upon a time, my letterhead read "I Will Flatline Before I Go Online." That was until October of 1997. I suppose a decade later, a DVD player might be in order...Wayne
