Above the computer there is a portrait of a seahorse, surrdouned by various fishes, and a demon-like thing in the background spewing gastly red-orange light. To the right of that is a framed Absolut ad, Absolut Doohan. There’s a vague sense of human bodies crammed into the familiar bottle on a stage with a glittering curtain. Beside that are two photo collages. There is a red sequined frog sitting atop the monitor.

A variety of papers crowd the desk. Each is in its proper place, and yet the desk looks cluttered. A dental appointment card is held in a third-hand clip just below the monitor. There’s a pair of headphones, a printer, a roll of tape, and a tube of stacking makeup. To the left of the keyboard is a jar of pens and pencils, with a pair of asian calligraphy brushes rising out of the center. There are two pairs of scissors. Friskars, I can tell by the handles. A polished geode that has been transformed into an unused ashtray. Four eyebolts. Two postcards of bondage models. A homemade CD from an up-and-coming DJ out west. Three mini-camcorder tapes, carefully unlabeled. Another third-hand holds cards with the names of doctors, and a phone number without a name. A quotation is taped below a print of intertwining geckos — The Beauty of a Woman with passing years — only grows.

To do list in front of me. Taxes online. garters and lace, Burning Man, Job sc. Accid. The rest is obscured by other papers. I wonder what on this list will get done.

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