My desk, and clutter.
Maps, top to bottom, left to right:
Canterbury, 16th century
London, 16th century
Cambridge, 16th century
The maps of Toronto and Hartford have been retired for the foreseeable future. *g*
Mascots. The suckmonkey is wearing a Genre Pirate button.
The Elizabethans. So I can stick pins in them when they won't put out.
Left to right, top to bottom:
Cambridge, Southwark Cathedral exterior, Southwark Cathedral interior, map of London
Cambridge, probably-not-Kit but hey what the hell it could be, probably-not-Will but hey what the hell it could be, Ben Jonson, Anne of Denmark (and her cleavage)
King's College Chapel Cambridge, probably-neither-Kit-not-Will but hey what the hell it could be, Elizabeth I, possibly Richard Burbage (possibly not)
map of Cambridge, Anne Hathaway's father's/brother's cottage, Henrey Carey, interior Canterbury Cathedral (behind the monkey)
John Shakespeare's house, Canterbury Cathedral
Canterbury Cathedral, John Shakespeare's house, Canterbury Cathedral
Anne Hathaway's father's/brother's cottage (behind the speaker), Canterbury Cathedral
Various totemic items, including a pezwitch, several Lovecraftian plush toys, and the infamous Shakespeare Action figure and finger puppet. This is my improvised bookshelf. *g* One step up from boards and bricks, one step down from Ikea. The top shelf with books on it is the research pile for The Stratford Man and The Journeyman Devil. What I bought. There was more that was borrowed or read online.
Thank God, I've forgotten most of it. It was oozing out my ears at random intervals for a while.
Whiskey defends the Campbell Award. (arcaedia's comment: "Only you would display a Campbell award the way most people display their high school sports trophies.") Well, yanno. What else am I going to do with it? Have it framed?
Don't say I never gave you anything.
(It made sense in context. Ahhh, Wiscon.)
Have I mentioned how annoying it is that my smoke detector is outside the bathroom door, and goes off if you take a shower, even a cool one, with the door open?
Finally got the laundry done. Thank God.
Bruce Cockburn songs are like whole weird little violent surrealistic novels in a few dozen lines.
And I was reminded of the proprietor of a Vietnamese restaurant in Quebec
Who used to be head of the secret police in Danang
And it occurred to me that I was thinking all this stuff
To keep from thinking about something else.
Isn't that just what secret police are all about?
*It didn't take long; I don't know much about yellow ladybugs.