My room is a giant library. I have bookshelves lining two of the walls, with hundreds of books, most of which I've read. Most of the books are out of their respectful place, though, because once I'm finished with books, I usually just stack them and grab another, because I'm too lazy to sort my shelves. I really should do that, though, because it would be a lot easier to pick new books out if I could see the title on the spine. Unfortunately, that's hard for me to do, because my giant stacks of books are in the way. Besides the books, I have Dirty Harry theatrical posters lining another wall, consisting of one per movie (that would be five, junior), as well as a life sized cardboard cutout of Clint Eastwood as The Man With No Name from Sergio Leone's Spaghetti Western Dollars Trilogy. I also have a desk, which I have yet to see the top of. It's filled with finished first draft ideas for dozens of stories that I've written when I had nothing better to do. Most of them are shit, and will never see the light of day, but some of them (the ones that I've put more effort into), are relatively well written and solid stories... Well, the first drafts aren't well written (because first drafts are never well written), but I do have a few second drafts. (A note to inspiring writers: Always handwrite first drafts.) I think I just got lost on a writing tangent. Anyway, that's my room.