bitter bitter sayth the sister & the mother. like snapdragons, but more snapnewts, tinier, harmless except to each other. this time elizabeth does appear to be in the right- of course the pretty girl gets asked into the vip lounge. anyhow, thats how the evening ended up. hard rock casino with owen wilson & hyde from that 70s show. oh, & me buying my own dinner. abyssmal!
the cirque show "o" was great, to no-one's surprise. the hideous majordomo who turns into the fisher king, the streaming veil of the red curtain, the masked hecate in the many waters. the theater itself was beautiful as well. i sat in the third row, all the way against the right wall. a funny angle on everything.
there is this weird mantra in vegas. everyone says "good luck" instead of "sorry" or "excuse me" or "goodbye" (all those broken words we've grown familiar with). good luck? i just don't get the weird burning heart of the gambler. i've taken to skulking around the roulette tables, apropriating free (well) drinks. by well, i imply a deep, dank shaft streaching into the earth, a clattering bucket (or pail). by pale, i mean like the colour of a ghost, shimmering above the hotel bed, tormented. everyone here in vegas wriggling, like a pail filled with tadpoles. a writhing, indistinct mass, like horseflies clinging to the genitals of a woman, crucified.
i'll say one thing- i havn't been getting nearly enough drinks early in the morning. i thought vegas was supposed to be about a constant state of inebriation? its the primordeal ooze from which all good vacations crawl out of. but here i am sober! this won't do, this won't do one bit. i'll awaken the titans & storm fucking olympus for a taste of that ambrosia called liquor. oh happy glass. a bloody mary is a breakfast cocktail; maybe i'll walk down that road, like a john bunyan character. Christian encounters Malice! oh its heart warming, or would be if i didn't keep my heart in a glass jar on the shelf. all these little "ohs" are littering my day today- its like i keep being surprised by something.
streached out under the sun, soaking it up & hating it. i'm the black pard sometimes, an obsidion god of aztec-myth, voracious in my appetites. from time to time i pad down the tiled stairs into the pool of water, & when i leave it i shiver, the water wicking away into the moisture starved atmosphere. briefly, i'm cold in the desert, under the unbearable sun. but i bear it, of course. a yawn is a display of fangs for me, & this sunshine bullshit is unbelievably boring.
my sister is in the hospital. i guess she wouldn't stop throwing up earlier, heaving out her unfaithful innards. while she was preoccupied with that, i learned how to lose thirty dollars ($30.00) at craps. i lost with panache, & even placed a bet for the dealer, as a tip. roll those dice, folks, the deadline fast aproaches. then i ate a savory crepe for lunch. i got my drinks, but not nearly enough of them.