- We left Las Vegas with $100 in Keno winnings on the same night the Monte Carlo caught fire.
- Although it did actually snow in San Gabriel last Thursday morning, there's nothing like travelling to Utah to remind you that California is never ever cold.
- I stayed one night at the Treasure Mountain Inn, a.k.a. the TMI on its stationary and signage. Sure enough, there was a lot of TMI going on that night, mainly in the form of excited guests having wonderful times and shouting things like "I'm going to be at the party at 1010 Norfolk" or "I'm wearing a really sexy dress under this coat" just a littttle too loudly.
- Made more trips to Wal-Mart than I saw actual films at the Festival. Not because I am so in love with Wal-Mart, but because in certain places it is the only place to go.
- Saw a dead moose at the side of the highway while driving to Salt Lake City.
- Had a curiously satisfying encounter with law enforcement.
- Sang along to the "Once" soundtrack in the car about eighty times.
- Saw the cohort's film on the big screen, finally, and felt strange pride, envy, and wonder.
- I was recovering from an illness and everyone around me was coming down with something. So there wasn't so much awesome partying as there was moderate drinking and decisive naps. And really, amidst all the anxious film-pushing and random acts of networking, it was enough just to sit and relax and watch the snow fall and flurry.
new year's epiphany
On any given day I am among the last people in the world to go to sleep, insomniac Hawaiians notwithstanding.
i saw....
...the most amazing-looking woman in the casino today, not as in amazingly beautiful, just dressed and groomed in a noir-ish style that seemed impossibly elegant and dramatic. She was Korean of course. She wore a white leather trenchcoat, black scarf, blue-striped dress shirt over a white sweater, and a grey fedora, all of them expensively detailed, tastefully patterned, and immaculately fit to her body. I've never been in the presence of clothes used to such maximum effect, whispering both of new money and old mystery. She had short platinum-dyed hair and a face with so many surgical modifications it actually appeared to be a mask - the Phantom of the Opera mask, with eyes slightly receded behind a bloodless surface. She looked like Blade Runner and the Lupin III anime rolled up in Switch from the Matrix and Brigitte Lin in Chungking Express. She totally had a hidden gun, or a husband that she needs you to kill, or a bionic forked tentacle-tongue, or something. I am sure that her chewing gum cost more than I make in a week. I do not have a picture.
ho ho ho
The minimum bet on our baccarat table is $200. But we always get people who want to bet $100 or less and we have to remind them. The other day, some back-line papa placed a single $100 chip on the betting circle next to me. For some reason I didn't say the simple reminder. Instead I turned to J-, the player sitting next to me, and said "J-, bet a thousand there." This was a bit irregular because as a practical matter we never advise players when, where, or how much to bet, although many of them are superstitiously convinced that we know which spots will win because we are, after all, professionals. So for no real good reason I violated this policy. I didn't really expect her to listen to me, anyway. I just wanted someone to bet more on top of the $100.
....So she does it; she places $1000 in chips on top of the $100 chip, making it a legal bet. Now I'm in the soup; this is a player that I sort of like, she winked at me once, and has a generally good nature. And, if there's one superstition I've gained from working in the casino, it is this: The Players I Like Always Lose. The only way I can ASSURE that someone will lose, it seems, is when I hope in my heart that they will win. So, as the cards come out, I'm really ill about this, because I don't want her to lose the bet on my silly advice. Not because I'll get yelled at, but because she is the kind of player nice enough to not yell about it.
....And she's more a $300-400 bettor typically, so a $1000 bet is kind of a big event in her day. She wouldn't make it unless she had a Very Strong Feeling, or otherwise felt it ordained by someone with Professional Gambling Superpowers, i.e. me.
....But she won! The bank overhit, player bets won, and I looked like a genius. I both couldn't believe it, and was completely relieved. At last someone I was rooting for had won a hand! I felt like Santa Claus. I quickly told her that would be my only advice for the day (lest she hound me for further groundless predictions) and went back to work, that is, back to being professionally indifferent towards every single outcome.
....So she does it; she places $1000 in chips on top of the $100 chip, making it a legal bet. Now I'm in the soup; this is a player that I sort of like, she winked at me once, and has a generally good nature. And, if there's one superstition I've gained from working in the casino, it is this: The Players I Like Always Lose. The only way I can ASSURE that someone will lose, it seems, is when I hope in my heart that they will win. So, as the cards come out, I'm really ill about this, because I don't want her to lose the bet on my silly advice. Not because I'll get yelled at, but because she is the kind of player nice enough to not yell about it.
....And she's more a $300-400 bettor typically, so a $1000 bet is kind of a big event in her day. She wouldn't make it unless she had a Very Strong Feeling, or otherwise felt it ordained by someone with Professional Gambling Superpowers, i.e. me.
....But she won! The bank overhit, player bets won, and I looked like a genius. I both couldn't believe it, and was completely relieved. At last someone I was rooting for had won a hand! I felt like Santa Claus. I quickly told her that would be my only advice for the day (lest she hound me for further groundless predictions) and went back to work, that is, back to being professionally indifferent towards every single outcome.
whoo hoo hoo ooh
I'm going to write a song called "My Ex-Girlfriend Just Got A Movie Into Sundance."
Not today. Today I'm just going to skulk around, maybe eat some Oreos. But one of these days. A bittersweet pop anthem. With lots of defiant "whoo hoo hoos" in it. Oh yeah.
Not today. Today I'm just going to skulk around, maybe eat some Oreos. But one of these days. A bittersweet pop anthem. With lots of defiant "whoo hoo hoos" in it. Oh yeah.
A big Michael Bolton day.
So while watching football today I saw 2 Michael Bolton references in the space of 3 commercials. The first ad was for the Ford Focus (or "Vehicle-Mounted MP3 Player" as the ad would apparently like you to think of it) in which one guy mocked the other guy for having "How Am I Supposed To Live Without You" on his car stereo. Then followed another Ford ad. Then there was an Etrade ad set, again, to "How Am I Supposed To Live Without You," not even sung by Michael Bolton but covered by some histrionic throat-wrenching man-diva who sounded almost exactly like Michael Bolton.
I mean, how did this HAPPEN? Now the advertisers are using our own collective embarassment over the Michael Bolton Era against us? Both ads were ironically riffing on the song as the syrupy embodiment of cheese, not as "the cool song that makes you want to buy the Ipod because it will somehow enable you to find out what the song is."
But on the flipside....whenever I hear the big MB wail, I'm reminded of that night in I was DJing in a foreigner bar in Taiwan, and my slightly-drunk Pakistani youth-hostel-mate staggered over to my little booth and said, trembling, "Come ON man! GIVE me the Michael Bolton!"
Unfortunately, I didn't have any to play. But those were some good times.
I mean, how did this HAPPEN? Now the advertisers are using our own collective embarassment over the Michael Bolton Era against us? Both ads were ironically riffing on the song as the syrupy embodiment of cheese, not as "the cool song that makes you want to buy the Ipod because it will somehow enable you to find out what the song is."
But on the flipside....whenever I hear the big MB wail, I'm reminded of that night in I was DJing in a foreigner bar in Taiwan, and my slightly-drunk Pakistani youth-hostel-mate staggered over to my little booth and said, trembling, "Come ON man! GIVE me the Michael Bolton!"
Unfortunately, I didn't have any to play. But those were some good times.
Lars & The Real Girl
Sometimes it is awesome to see a movie from the front row of the theater. On Friday night I went with a friend to see "Lars & The Real Girl" in Pasadena. Due to my parking ineptitude, we got there late and ended up in the last two adjoining seats, in the front row of a small packed house.
The only two movies I'd seen previously from this position were the first "Mission: Impossible" and "He Got Game." both of them fairly cutty, stylized and loud. At close range, the audiovisual effect was headache-inducing. I think MTV was invented for its venue, that is, the TV, and experiencing that style on a screen that is very much larger than you and very near your head is probably not healthful.
But seeing "Lars" down in the front was fantastic. There was something about seeing these HUGE heads enact these very small sad/funny moments that was really compelling. There is no flashy editing, and there are enough long takes to let the eye wander around on that vast plain of screen, and explore, and get lost. It probably is my new favorite movie anyways, because it's wonderfully written, acted, filmed, and all that stuff, but I suspect that on a smaller screen, at a safe distance, it would be less whelming, more easily confused with all the other bittersweet indie movies. But because it was way too close, its intimate ordinariness was really uplifting, it was like a rock concert of ordinariness: long pauses, pores and all.
The only two movies I'd seen previously from this position were the first "Mission: Impossible" and "He Got Game." both of them fairly cutty, stylized and loud. At close range, the audiovisual effect was headache-inducing. I think MTV was invented for its venue, that is, the TV, and experiencing that style on a screen that is very much larger than you and very near your head is probably not healthful.
But seeing "Lars" down in the front was fantastic. There was something about seeing these HUGE heads enact these very small sad/funny moments that was really compelling. There is no flashy editing, and there are enough long takes to let the eye wander around on that vast plain of screen, and explore, and get lost. It probably is my new favorite movie anyways, because it's wonderfully written, acted, filmed, and all that stuff, but I suspect that on a smaller screen, at a safe distance, it would be less whelming, more easily confused with all the other bittersweet indie movies. But because it was way too close, its intimate ordinariness was really uplifting, it was like a rock concert of ordinariness: long pauses, pores and all.
the weather channel
My friend was watching the fire on TV today, a static shot of a dark hillside burning.
At first they showed the path of the fire as slivers, later the slivers became blankets.
Outside, it's warm, summery. I went to the beach, saw the ocean. The sky was mottled, then matted, with purple and grey.
At first they showed the path of the fire as slivers, later the slivers became blankets.
Outside, it's warm, summery. I went to the beach, saw the ocean. The sky was mottled, then matted, with purple and grey.
clarity sometimes comes....
....at 6 in the AM, drinking whiskey and eating seaweed outside in the dark near-wintry morning.
For better or for worse, that clarity is: hey, you could be in Iraq. Things really are going pretty well.
For better or for worse, that clarity is: hey, you could be in Iraq. Things really are going pretty well.
heard in the casino today....
...from shoeshiner master Don:
"This game, dommah, (the Vietnamese cuss word, not me. -ed.) crazy, huh? Evil and ghost, evil and ghost.
They want to come evil is evil.
They want to come ghost is ghost, dommah."
....OK, maybe he was saying "good" in his strong ESL brogue, but it seems like much more mysterious wisdom this way.
"This game, dommah, (the Vietnamese cuss word, not me. -ed.) crazy, huh? Evil and ghost, evil and ghost.
They want to come evil is evil.
They want to come ghost is ghost, dommah."
....OK, maybe he was saying "good" in his strong ESL brogue, but it seems like much more mysterious wisdom this way.
there should be a word for....
....that thing when you're talking to someone you don't know very well and they're all cagey and cold, until they find a way to drop the words "my boyfriend" or "my fiance" into the conversation, and THEN they start talking to you. Usually it's women, who are understandably worried about getting hit on, but guys have given me the same tipoff, because, I dunno, I have a gay-looking upper lip or something. Most stange women, or women strangers, have no way to know that I am So Ridiculously Bad at hitting on people, and am actually relieved when they oh-so-subtly mention their attachment, because it drops the expectations even lower and affords the chance for a real conversation. Recently in a bar I was chatting awkwardly with someone, and after she got the "my husband" name-drop out of the way, she really opened up, rambling stories, expressive body language and everything. So I think there really should be a word for this little anti-pickup maneuver. There probably is one in some dating book. Just like there probably is a single word for "politely dropping the hammer on your dreams."
Graveshift
And then there is nothing
but at work and asleep
loud and quiet
here and home.
There is no tomorrow
on which to worry
because it is tomorrow.
No one judges you
they already are sentenced.
At this hour when no one lives
it is not what you make,
what you lack, or what you should be doing.
You could not be doing anything else.
This is the brilliance of grave shift;
it kills the imagination.
4 AM is my favorite hour:
it always feels like
a strong possibility.
but at work and asleep
loud and quiet
here and home.
There is no tomorrow
on which to worry
because it is tomorrow.
No one judges you
they already are sentenced.
At this hour when no one lives
it is not what you make,
what you lack, or what you should be doing.
You could not be doing anything else.
This is the brilliance of grave shift;
it kills the imagination.
4 AM is my favorite hour:
it always feels like
a strong possibility.
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