Friday, August 7, 2009

at the airport bar

I'm sitting at the airport bar - waiting for my flight - waiting for my expensive as fuck well drink -
thinking about the last two days I've been in Vegas. I've been here working on a little project - putting in some heavy hours - so exhausted last night I went to bed early without seeing any of my old dear friends - today I had a nice lunch break with Sean who is always a beauty to see and spend some good time together shooting the shit. After I left work I went to see my 6 yr old niece test for her orange belt in Taekwondo. She passed and was adorable. (She woke me up this morning telling me "It's Pajama Day!!! - It's Pajama Day at Camp!" I was so jealous. I told her that I wished I could have a Pajama Day to which she replied "But you can - because it's also FUN day, and that means Yes!!!"

As I was saying my goodbyes to her she started to cry asking me why I couldn't stay. I say what I always say "I live in LA baby, but I'll be back real soon to see you my love." She cried even harder and told me "I wish that God would have you stay, have you live here!" I kissed her tears away and again told her how much I loved her, that if she ever needed me I would be by her side in a moment, and that next time I would come with the puppy.

The Vegas airport is always something. Leering businessmen, obese people everywhere the eye catches, old women with bleached hair and leathered skin who look as though they gave up food in exchange for hard alcohol and drugs ages ago. A man standing outside is informing a woman who looks as though she has never traveled out of a 15 mile radius from her surroundings that Vegas is just like New York - "I mean, really! It's just the same! You can get Indian food, or Asian food, or I mean, any type of food you want. Exactly like New York! Try the Monte Carlo - whooo!" A little lady who looked like a Sunday school teacher stood nearby me in line, and her phone conversation made it seem that she was involved in some shady drug deal about to go down. I guess even teachers need to cut some breaks for themselves in this place. Far from my days of high school out here where my Algebra teacher also worked part time at Baby Gap to pay the bills.

Going back to LA. Love A.

This man with two martinis in front of him in a tequila bar with a big thick mustache has been staring persistently at me since I sat down here. I keep pulling my crossed legs tighter together wishing he would just go get on a fucking plane already. He is stroking his mustache and my stomach feels queasy.

I'm really happy to be heading back. While my birth certificate states -Las Vegas, Nevada...it's not my home. Home is where the heart is. Always.

Currently Finishing Up:

Thursday, August 6, 2009

and thus it was

I think you're all fucked in the head. We're ten hours from the fucking fun park and you want to bail out. Well I'll tell you something. This is no longer a vacation. It's a quest. It's a quest for fun. I'm gonna have fun and you're gonna have fun. We're all gonna have so much fucking fun we'll need plastic surgeory to remove our godamn smiles. You'll be whistling 'Zip-A-Dee Doo-Dah' out of your assholes!