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.