AN ILLUSTRATED HISTORY OF THE MODERN WORLD.

Welcome to the Sun Room. A lot of really important shit goes on in this room. Like, for example, sometimes I lay around eating popsicles, or picking my nose, or staring out the window. This is the room in which we (or I, rather - Opie Peery and Adam both have their own rooms to fill with the trash of life and love) practice divination and other forms of occult ritual, like art and poetry!



Let's begin the behind-the-scenes tour.

Two perspectives (from my bed): To my left, we see my mirror. In the mirror, we see the backside of the curtain that, when pulled (or yanked - depending on my mood) shut, separates the "Sun Room" from the "Rest of The House". We also see some of the larger things set on my table of special items, a golden arrow hung with black yarn, shelf-altar I, and the Twilight poster Adam stole and presented to me as a Christmas present. To my right, we see some windows, some paintings hung from those windows, a deer fibula (you really can find anything on eBay) resting atop one of those paintings, and shelf-altar II. Oh, and that's the popsicle I was eating.



In the first image, we examine my table of special items. It's the only table in my room, because another table (or anything else, for that matter) simply would not fit. So everything on this table is important because I say so. I'll take the time to list a few of these very important things. Well, there's that wacky/wild drawing of tiger-people that Brannan offhandedly dug out of his car and let me have before he moved back to Decherd. I do like looking at that. Next to that, a framed picture of a forest. There's also some stacked shit, a piece of wood I found, some votive figures (a 3-legged horse, a hawk, a rabbit, a coyote with red eyes), an old picture of some lady I don't know, some nutty notes left for me by crazy people / crazy geniuses, a green box full of I-don't-know-what, the binoculars I use when birdwatching, a half-empty bag of disgusting altar bread from the Catholic Supply Store, and some other Christian shit (for the sake of baby Jesus). And, second, a picture of my reflection misbehaving.



Left: shelf-altar I / Right: self-altar II. I got books, I got birds, I got paint, I got paper, I got jars, I got sticks, I got a tiny accordion with a rainbow-colored moth on it, I got the letter "D", I got reindeer on rockers, I got Remedios Varo, I got a drawing of a ballerina with my name on it, I got a statue of a chimpanzee on a tricycle. I have all the bases covered.



Here I'm posing in the mirror as the resurrected Christ, fresh out of the tomb and ready to attack! I've got my popsicle, I've got my car keys, I've got my bottled water, I've got my pink Blackberry telephone-computer, and I've got my faith, so "noli me tangere" you white devils! I mean, it's a mirror. Everyone must know where I'm coming from. And, right, so, yeah, so that first one was me getting way too into it, seeing as I never take pictures and never know what to do with myself when I do. The other dude is Coyote Baby, patron saint of Wikipedia, science fiction, the gates of Heaven, the gates of Hell, and the back wall of the Sun Room. I put her there to be spooky, but also to watch over me while I sleep. She's really cool / She's got style. If you look hard enough, you might even spot Vladimir Lenin peeking through the window.



And, finally, to draw this tour to a close, here's my bed and all the pillows. The gold triangle is an important symbol with protective qualities - an essential tool for any disrespectful shaman. I use it mainly during Satanic invocations. Actually, none of that is true. I made it to hang above one my paintings, but now I have it resting on the windowsill above my bed. So now I'm a painting. The paper mask peeking out from behind the golden triangle - the wolf - presents an element of surprise to an already uncomfortable situation. You can also see the cow jaw Brannan gave me (a lovely gift), and the postcard/contract Taylor gave me. About the contract: Well, it's a postcard that says "I PROMISE TO NEVER MAKE ART AGAIN" with a little space for you to sign your signature, so of course I signed it! I had 100%, completely planned to abide by the terms and conditions of this contract, but then Adam spilt some shit all over it, and now it says "PROMISE NEVER MAKE ART GAIN". So, incidentally, I guess that's the new contract, and I guess I'm still bound to it, so I'll just never make art (for monetary) gain ... (?) Sounds fair enough.

In conclusion, I would have to say that Adam and I, and now Opie Peery (a colorful new addition to the Headquarters of our Individual Lives - or our art museum apartment - whatever), have a fine set-up here. We're drowning in our friends' artwork, there's a mounted deer head over our collection of TV screens, there's a stuffed pheasant on the Michael Jordan mural wall, we have the most beautiful kitten in the whole wide world (VIVA LA HICKORY NAPKIN), and we've got a weirdo collection of books on display. A+, gold star.

Bonus: Here's the living room.

( Notice how the gold curtain I control controls the lightness / darkness of the den - I would be God, but I actually don't spend much time at home, so I guess there's nothing to fear )