I'm bathed in blue
Note to the slutted-out girls and the clone boys who follow them around the nightclubs here:
What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, unless it's VD. In which case you have to take it home with you.
I am torn between doing a stream of consciousness or a regular journal entry. how about a hybrid?
i have come to the conclusion about why i'm always losing. either i reject the rules, or i refuse to play all together. this explains a great many aspects of my personal life. i.e. refusing to pay cover due to a dogmatic adherence to the principle that people who go to bars that charge cover aren't my kind of people.
on my flight to memphis i sat next to an eight-year-old girl who was so cute and precocious and pretentious that she reminded me in every way of myself at her age. her mother was in the window seat (i always, ALWAYS, take aisle) and adored me, so much that i ate dinner at Corky's at the memphis airport (as i do every time i pass through Memphis, bar none) with the whole family (the father and two younger daughters were in the row behind us).
nice people. i gave them my email address and i gave the girl the title of my favourite book when i was her age, Math For Smarty Pants. She said she'd seen it in the library so i am excited for her. she then told me about how she looked up googol in the dictionary.
seriously, this girl is like a mini-me, except cute.
cabbie was awesome, ran a few red lights for me, i tipped him well.
wandered around the strip for a few hours, drank a few beers, watched people, took notes. tonight, i was told, is the #1 night/weekend of the year for bachelorette parties. which, well, is a weird situation. i mean, you can't really interrupt girls on a bachelorette excursion, except they kept interrupting me, which was fine, but then they were headed to some shitty club that i wasn't interested in and had a $20 cover and i was like no thanks.
though i looked totally hot today, white oxford shirt, untucked, jeans, khaki linen jacket. hot. should have played it for what it was worth. didn't. dogma.
i fell in love with the girl sitting in front of me on the memphis-las vegas flight and wrote a song about her.
the guy next to me was a lawyer from cleveland so we talked about the Indians and Browns and law school and that was fun.
someone downstairs/upstairs/next to me is thumping music. this is a CLASSY STRIP HOTEL PEOPLE, THIS IS NOT THE HARD ROCK OR THE WESTERN INN
gahh
interviews tomorrow, and memorial day. remember.
