vegas? vegas. vegas!!

asleep in a cloud
distant sounds mingle with dreams
no thoughts, just annoyed

phone. fifteen fucking minutes before the alarm. "we got on the list for Rain. we'll need to be at there in about 12 hours. everything okay?" good god damn grumble mumble ramble scramble scribbled notes "we'll be fine." and sleep. alarm? no. anticipation hoists my still sleeping body out of bed. flurries of assorted fabrics leave me dressed. I assume I'm wearing underwear; still sleeping body can't remember the last time it put any on. a quick reshuffle of the duffles and an endless stream of "oh yeahs" before we're in the car and off and on again? wait. grocery store. I feel like a mouse in a maze poking around the Fry's. this it? this it? no. no. no. yes! mmmmm, cheese. "cheese" spelled "a-l-c-o-h-o-l." and we're off again. bouncing along to the bass.

still bouncing as we hop to a stop at the red light. and the red light. and the red light. and the red light. perfectly timed red lights. exquisite. bravo. encore. and encore. I am eternally grateful for the opportunity to enjoy each and every light along the way. I also love traffic. the pick-up truck with the camper edges away and back and away again. wait, "love" wasn't the word I was looking for. another hour of edging along finally cuts us free as if the divine hand that was pulling the little car back finally let go. at last, at long last, we zip along blurred seas of brown and blue mountains majesties.

phone. "making sure you're okay. worried. club in six hours? call back."

is that the turn? no. maybe. yes. maybe. no. there it goes. fuck. it was yes. I should never be allowed to navigate for road trips because I am the truly remarkable. we begin to fade and drift as the distance takes its toll. an endless strip of road glides by as we chase the setting sun over a hill until over the hill, we arrive at night, Vegas.

millions of specks of light give the impression of some great fluffy blanket thrown against the dark landscape. maybe, it looks nothing like a blanket. maybe, I'm just tired. as we ease into the city, we see the Lights distinct from the lights. the Lights draw us closer. the mother of all will o' wisps. you can practically hear them in the distance. hypnotic Lights so bright, they pipe excitement directly into the brain. as the Lights get closer, the pipe gets bigger as do the eyes to accommodate. eyes widen mesmerized maddened mind entwined by the Lights. a steady trickle of people pools at corners and doorways along the sidewalk. the Lights draw us closer. fickle trickle turns to teeming stream turns to a sliver of a river. we round the bend and find ourselves on the Strip amidst a flood. noise. cars. carousing. people. the Lights. flurries of movement. swearing. swaying. swaggering. the senses have declared a coup. stimuli flock through eyes and ears screaming "process me! for I am remarkably interesting!" the brain quits, storms out, slams the door behind it.

frozen fireworks
I pause to remind myself
"not epileptic"

phone. "an hour." out of the flood and into the concrete santuary of a parking structure. check in. Imperial Palace. pastel paradise to soothe sore senses. eyelids and mind are drooping. drifting. the brain slinks back in and takes a nap under a table. life is no longer a movie, but a succession of snapshots.

old woman's eyes glazed
turned to stone by flashing lights
lost another dime

phone. "20 minutes." sleep nearly drowns me in the shower in drizzle and drool. bleary eyed, but well-groomed and scented we're introduced thirty minutes later. hello. hello. names enter and leave the mind effortlessly. a courtesy pause. we smile blankly at our new friends for a moment. sorry, nothing clever to say except "isn't this wonderfully awkward?" and "shall we?" and much scurrying ensues. we find ourselves folded and stuffed into a backseat and the car scurrys along, diving to and fro, between cars and through yellow no red red red light. exciting. the Lights have lost their hypnotic power to the sudden jolting of the car. each swerve snaps our attentions to the honking frames of angry metal that we narrowly miss or that narrowly miss us. we arrive at the Palms intact, albeit slightly soiled.

unmediated reality slaps the brain awake. reality is so overwhelming that everything seems distant; another series of snapshots. I am a homunculus within a homunculus. another flood. milling about to find our people. our Virgil. lines. crowds. messes of grinning bliss, self-important strutting peacocks, those at home in chaos and those completely lost. everyone is looking around with exaggerated non-chalance or unabashed wonder. this dreamland highlights people's underlying reality. their values, their insecurities, their otherwise. I think I need better shoes. Noise. every thought, sight, move is underscored by ubiquitous bass not unlike a heartbeat. hello. hello. a single name remains: Phil. rhymes with Virgil. he will take us In. we are lead to the source of the Noise. lines and crowds hover near. flashes of cash pull us past. past the lines to the door itself. the door to the Noise. waiting. brain is awake and amused and made slightly stupid by the Noise. I feel like nodding to random people I don't know. they are looking around at me looking at them. I am very important person. I would nod if I were wearing better shoes. flashy bands make it official; I am told that I am more than very important person. very important persons cannot go where I am allowed blah blah blah blah blah crammed into a creaking elevator. all awhile the Noise pulls us closer. the doors open, the Noise spills in. a throbbing scented mess of fabric, hair, and skin spills out. twisting, bobbing bodies and flashing lights. and here our story begins.

ants dance on sugar
chaotic swarming frenzy
Rain is the picnic