Top left, to right:
SF Giants Troll, Crazy Crab, Hula Girl, rubber Devil Duck, a gold watch (given to my grandfather six months prior to retirement in lieu of a fucking pension), sepia photo of my mother on her wedding day, pack of candy cigarettes, Sparkzilla, can of generic beer (unopened), Logitech speaker (1 of 5), bottle of Hillary Clinton Whitewater, Frank Zappa beer bottle (opened), canned coffee from Japan, canned ginseng nectar from Korea, 1973 Nixon inauguration ticket, replica hand grenade, switchblade comb, mini suit of armour from Spain.
Mid / back panel:
Pics of Ronald Regan, Margaret Thatcher, George and Laura Bush, a jar of ten year old jellybeans, eight year old Sees suckers, a die-cast model of Gorbachev's limo, an Oakland A's "Billy Ball"
Home-Built computer (don't ask me the specs, it's water cooled, over clocked, SLI etc,), Flashing red "cop light" on tower, Two Acer monitors, assorted empty shell casings, Yellow Mustang Hot Wheel 'cause my mom never got a real one like she wanted, a wedding photo of my wife and I, small tool and first aid kits.
Today, there is a bottle of Maker's Mark, shot glass, large mug of ale on top of my Periodic Table of Elements, next to my National Review magazine.
Canon MFP that no longer prints but still scans, Record turntable (hooked into tower via RCA jack), fire safe, subwoofer, trash can, a whole pile of 20 year old games.
Then I look around "The Office", all 10 x 11 of it. On the walls are a bunch of 45 LP records, Star Trek maps... Christ It looks like an Applebees in here. There's a lava lamp, CB radio (my dad loved CB), small desk from my grandmother, a gun cabinet, a bookcase full of board games, another full of actual books. File cabinets, shredder, exercise bike. Look, there's a Redwood burl clock my dad had from the 70's. Oh, and the cat box is in the corner.
My wife wants clear it out. All of it. Her sister needs a place to stay.
This is all that's left of me. 'Bout a hundred square feet. There's no room to put all this shit. I play games here. I listen to music. I talk to you guys. I even use that stationary bike behind me.
I felt like fighting earlier. I'm drinking, now I'm just sad. My wife had to put me in this position.
I may just give up. My wife has the moral high ground. I pour the whiskey. I'm too numb to cry.
I'm not a smartphone or laptop guy. This is my small corner of The Universe.
The things moved out of here will get broken or lost. When (if) it ever get reconstituted, it will not be the same.
Do I put on my Ghost Shirt? No. I'm thinking I will fight no more, forever.