Things

Cane - Long ago, I realized that irony works against me. To turn the tables on this malicious Universe, whenever I damaged a leg, I would spend my downtime fashioning a beautiful cane. Without fail, by the time my new cane was complete, my injury would have healed and I would find myself robbed of the opportunity to stroll about with it. I usually give these away—I gave one with red, black, yellow, and green birds to a Rastafarian called Skelly, a brutal cane fashioned from a gilded trailer hitch and a crooked tree branch ended up with an Irishman named Gavin; and I gave one to my father. I've kept this one around as a totem to ward off any future sprained ankles.

The Staff of Souls

The Staff of the Sea

Mirror of Skulls

To see yourself in it is to know your own death.

Mushroom Knife

Ghost Knife

War-Club of the Serpent

I convinced the head gardener in Varosliget to put aside a broken limb from an Osage tree. I meant to make a bow out of it but when I split it into staves, I found no piece of it fit for this purpose. So I made this War-Club from one of these twisted staves. I later gave this to a french veteran–in hopes that he might bathe it in blood–instead I was given some home-made jambon de canard and a bottle of b-spoke limonccello.

Guitar Hanger