Vegas, Bye-bye
December 7, 2003
2am - 3pm

Listening to: “Funky for You,” by The Deadbeats. Back to Mine.

There is a scene in Bride of the Wind (2001) where Vincent Perez (as Oskar Kokoschka) says that to be an artist, one must have been beaten as a child. It’s hilarious, really. But sitting here, listening to mp3s, eating chocolate decadence, and staring out 26 floors of windows into the gaping expanse that’s Las Vegas, I wonder if you have to be at least unhappy. Sometimes the feeling takes me and I can’t get away. I want to squint my eyes and ask anyone nearby, “Do you feel it too?” It shouldn’t be there, but it is.

Chronically dissatisfied.

A few years ago, I finally figured out my meaning of life. It took years of brooding, but I distilled it down into three things (because the Universe seems to work in threes). Love, education, and creation. I just can’t think of any other reasons. But living by my own axiom still doesn’t bring happiness; or if I am happy, I’m still lacking contentment.

If someone writes and says, “Try Jesus,” I’ll hit them a big stick emblazed with the words “cop-out.” I’m whiz with technology and I can make a heavy stick materialize out of your computer monitor. It will appear, swing, and then hurt badly for exactly three days. Not that spirituality, at least, isn’t a good thing, mind you.

Part of the problem is this “ships passing in the night” analogy that is my social life. But I have an answer. “Buy one get one free dinner buffet with every sunset cruise!” Then again, I’ve always ever only had one or two good friends at a time, at least with respect to people I know locally. Right now it’s Mathew, though he’s decided -- wisely in my opinion -- to leave next year for a fashion degree at the Savannah College of Art and Design. Who’ll be next? As a good local friend, I mean; not as in a fashion degree.

Listening to: “Bar None,” by Max Grahm. Perfecto Presents Another World (Disc 1)

While reading “Empire Falls” during lunch today, I had this notion that the best companionship is born of similar pain, more so than interests or likes. It’s not a perfect rule of course, with exceptions abounding to the point of contradiction. Yet, show me mutual dissatisfaction or shared horror, and I’ll show the makings of a good friendship.

Florida: I hate you. I love you.

Vegas: you too. This city is evil or wonderful, both in so many ways. It’s evil because the entire place is designed as the Minotaur's Labyrinth. In fact, I might have seen the Minotaur but I hastily put a dollar into a slot machine and he left me alone. That being said, I’m only down about three dollars, with respect to gambling. “Nyah!” On the other hand, I’ve spent hundreds in food and shows.

One needn’t spend hundred’s for food though. That would be one of the good things about Vegas. I had a gourmet lunch with excellent food and service, for the same price as a herd of other tourist who ate at the buffet. And I didn’t have to wait in line. In fact, I had half the restaurant to myself, just me and a book. Thank you Vegas.

The problem is, it’s hard to find the gems of Vegas only being here a few days and you do end up spending a fortune. If I lived in Los Angeles, I’d figure it all out and write a traveling book called, “The Gems of Vegas.” Note that I would not include the thirty dollar Sushi buffet a group of us visited last night. But for the experience (miles of sushi) and the company, it was worth it, once.

I have to say to that I loved “Star Trek - The Experience” at the Hilton. Mind you, it’s way, way (way) overpriced. But compared to most of the shows here, not so bad. And I’d say for kids it’s great. There was a group of little ones, in costume, having a birthday party when we (Shack, Strega, Sarah, Stephanie, and Mark) went there. One of the Klingon actresses sat down with the kids and got them to sing a drinking song while banging their fists on the table. I really hope my Mom takes me there for my birthday party when I turn 12!

(copyright Paramount Pictures)

Yeah, so anyway, with the exception of losing the (thirty?) dollar picture I had taken of myself on the bridge of the Enterprise 1701-D, in the captain’s chair, it’s a real hoot. I’ll go back if I’m ever here again. Shack probably will not; he felt too embarrassed for the actors…

(copyright Paramount Pictures)

Listening to: “Scrap Metal,” by Bitch and Animal. Eternally Hard.

I can’t scream loud enough for the whole world to hear. I would if I could. However, for fear of being perceived as odd by anyone immediately adjoining my hotel room, I’m holding back. Are there any more adventures to be had in Vegas before my red-eye flight? I’ve one more week of vacation at home: but the greatest adventures take years, don’t they?

I want to write a novel and win a Pulitzer. So I have to finish this book. And I then I have to write another one. And then: another one, because of that "three" thing again. After that, I’ll want to capture the essence of everything I’ve seen so far and blend in the things that I hope and fear about the world. Fate willing, maybe it’ll be good.

Listening to: “The Far Out Sung of Lung and the Ramblings of a Madman,” by The Future Sound of London. ISDN.

Note to self: “From now on, try to update the journal regularly. M-kay?”