This is where the Magic Happens

Oh! Come in, come in, I almost didn't hear you knocking! I guess I was playing my records a little too loudly... I do enjoy my light jazz. Here let me turn it down a little... there. Divine, isn't it? Would you like a cocktail? There's a wet bar, just there by your elbow. No? Well I guess we'll just cut to the chase, then. I can guess why you're here. You see, I get a lot of people that come for the very reason you're here now - you want to see where the magic happens, don't you?



She's beautiful isn't she? That's an RCA drafting table, I got her second hand from a salvation army. It used to be adjustable, but the back is broken, so now it's at a fixed angle. It was a little boring, a little too sterile for the decor, so I've been decorating it these past few years. Every now and again I'll scrawl a little notation here and there. You see this here? That's a name I wrote down of a rude representative from Capital One, for whom I was going to write a nasty letter, but I never got around to it. And this right here is a tabulation of what everyone wanted to order for takeout one night during my sophomore year of college. General Tso's chicken, three vegetable rolls... say, are you hungry? I've got some stuffed crabs in the ice box. No, I understand, you're too enthralled with my workspace. Let's just continue.

Those speakers there I use to play music through my computer. The CD player part of it stopped working some time ago. I was fascinated with it when I bought it, because it spun the CDs vertically, but now it has the unfortunate habit of dropping them. No matter. I mostly listen to old radio shows through it nowadays. Mostly National Public Radio. WHY YES! I am sophisticated, thank you.

On top of the left speaker you can see the head of a cartoon dog. It's actually the hood from a pair of footy pajamas I bought at a thrift store. I cut it up some time ago for use in a costume (it consisted of the happy puppy on my head and a sash that said "Mr. Osh Kosh B'Gosh..." I won't tell you what the theme of the party was). I was going to get rid of it, but ran into a moral dilemma. I could see the child who used to own the pajamas out there somewhere, perhaps walking down the street of his suburban neighborhood. A trash truck rumbles by. A bag rolls out, and splits wide open. The child looks down, and there in the gutter is his beloved footy pajamas. No, he realizes with sinking horror, it is just the top. It's been cruelly decapitated and thrown out. A banana peel is draped gaily across his head, and coffee grounds smudge his white fur. The child sinks down, the knees of his corduroys scraping on the hot asphalt. An unearthly scream starts to fill his lungs.

So you see, I really had no choice but to hold onto it. I keep him there. His cold eyes boring into me, reminding me of my folly. Sometimes at night he keeps me company, telling me stories of his past life. The truth is though, he doesn't have a very deep well of experience to draw on. For most of his existence he was in a drawer, and for the rest of the time he was wrapped around a sleeping 7 year old boy.

I keep those rulers and that T-Square on my wall because it makes me feel like a professional. The same goes for the calender. I never write anything down, but I greatly enjoy the pictures of playful kittens.

Finally we have the radiator down there on the right. I had it commissioned specially, because I was tired of all the other radiators I've dealt with in the past. Either they were completely quiet or provided a white noise. Not this one. It either sizzles and spits out water, with a sound like a cat that's been partially run over, or erupts in a volley of startling hammering sounds. Even by radiator standards it's loud. It serves as a nice complement to the noise metal my delightful upstairs neighbors like to play at inappropriate hours. That's really the advantage of living in this glorified Boston University dorm. It keeps me young and on my toes.

Well, I hope you enjoyed the tour. Gerard my manservant will show you out. Ta-ta!