"You might as well be hanging testicles from the ceiling because
those poor boys never stood a chance. The minute they became men
they took a step into the sights of a hunter's rifle." "Reeves,"
says the bartender. "You're shitfaced again, get the hell out of
here." The Bar with Antler Chandeliers is the ensemble portrait of
modern day East Hollywood that literature has been missing. All
essential Los Angeles underbelly are accounted for as they struggle
with the predestination written into their lives. Wood's
reciprocity with the world he's created is evident in its detail
from the starry eyes of the failed actresses, the grimy Midwestern
druggies, and the futureless gaze of the barflies; where everything
is rife with predation and laced with the language of the
apocalypse. The world is always ending one way or another, isn't
it?
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