"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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