If there is truth in a contrived show with a laugh-track, then what? It’s just drinks from there on. Isn’t it? Or am I wrong?
Or to be more opaque, the rich are always looking for discount deals. And they don’t need them. That’s the point of being rich. And if anything, they’re greedier for the deals than anyone else. Or am I wrong?
As far as I understand it, we have only two options: a. Have nothing and dream of having something OR b. Have everything and dream of having something else. Or am I wrong?
They couldn’t pay their rent and now make $400 a day? What? Just by playing games on their phone? Who are these people supposed to be? Failed Only Fan models?
And what is with the disinterested look? The vague shrug? Pointing up at silly text? Does this actually sell? How am I supposed to relate to a someone pointing up and shrugging and clearly doing nothing with their lives?
It’s best to start your Las Vegas weekend with a sense of economy. Have the taxi stop at a liquor store away from the Strip where alcohol and snacks are cheap. Many of the best deals – including helicopter tours and tennis court bookings – can be found in the publications conveniently displayed throughout the lobby and your room.
This is the moment to be savored, drink in hand, the famed Strip shimmering beneath your hotel window, the weekend waiting to unfold, a feeling of serenity washing through.A long stroll may now be enjoyed, breathing in the desert air, watching the volcano erupt, the fountains dance, the pirates do battle and the people scream from a roller coaster high above, after which a cheap and gluttonous buffet may be enjoyed at any of the hotels. It is now – buzzed, bloated and only $25 out of pocket – that the white bing-bing-bing noise of the casino floor can no longer be ignored. Black Jack is a popular game because it’s easy to learn and offers seemingly good odds, the house having 2-3% advantage. The dealer is important – pleasant, relaxed – as are the players – friendly people who know how to play the game – as it is where to sit – some like the first seat, some the last – but there’s no rush. The night is long. The first $100 bill slides out nicely, crisp, folded down the middle; a neat pile of chips reds and greens, are given in return. The waitress takes your order, and it’s free. Bets are small at first; $5 and $10, the occasional $20. The money goes up and down, down and back up. There are no clocks, no windows to the rest of the world. There’s only the cards, the free drinks and oxygen pumped in to keep your spirits high, no matter the luck. Several drinks and maybe even a cigar into the evening, and the stakes begin to rise. Whether you’re almost bust or have already doubled your money, the idea of getting another Blackjack on a lousy $5 bet cannot be tolerated.$20 becomes the new minimum. A streak means you’re up $400 just like that, money out of nothing, sheer guts. And then it’s gone, on a pair of Aces doubled down. Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. The bathroom is hard to find. The bank machine is not. The trick is setting yourself a spending limit. The second trick is not being too hard on yourself when that limit is surpassed. The third and biggest trick is to ensure that you do not have access to all of your savings. Crisp $100 bills pop out of the machine. You’re back at the table and on another streak – a pair of 8s doubled down this time, and the dealer goes bust. That’s what I’m talking about! A pile of chips is set aside, the money that you came in with. Incredibly you’re back on par. You allow yourself $200 to gamble. Once that’s gone, it’s back to the room to look at the view. But another $50 on top of that doesn’t matter that much. Nor the next. And on. You go back to the bank machine and the fight begins anew. The hole is deep and dark. A rally is imminent, but there’s nothing left, nothing. It’s all gone. You know that you stashed a reserve somewhere but can’t find anything. The dealer, your fifth of the night, watches and waits. It’s time to get some sleep. It’s a long walk home. You ask a cheery jogger for the time. 7:30 am. It doesn’t matter. There’s still the booze in the room and budget, a very strict budget for the next three days. There are some basketball games in the afternoon, easy bets. Make two or three of those, and everything changes. And there’s always the slots. With a bit of luck, everything could change. A jackpot even, imagine that.
It’s hard to fall asleep. Cards pop out of nowhere, impossible permutations – a 5 on the dealer’s 16, your Aces split with a 4 and a 3, thousands and thousands of cards, click, click, click. The body cries out against the abuse. Guilt rages. Someone has to be called, a confessor, a loved one. The woman at the tennis reservation desk will have to do. Your court time has to be cancelled.
Integrity is a catch word in the creative business. Whatever the vision, the aim, no matter what, we know that we must keep our integrity intact. We can’t allow the corporate world to debase and pervert our dreams. We cannot compromise ourselves for money. …unless of course that’s what we want to do.
I had a dream. There was a major science fiction film in the works. It involved eight worlds that were interconnected…that was about all they had. But the budget was big, a mega-monster, and somehow I had an inside track on writing the script. I was suddenly willing to do anything to get it. I offered to just give them my novel My Bad Side immediately, the book I’ve been working on for over four years, the book that defines my vision, and they hadn’t even asked for it. “It’s yours! Take it!” Just like that…just so I could maybe write a draft of this giant sell-out thing.
I woke up doubly disappointed. Mainly it was because I had been so willing to sell out…but more than that, it was the sad fact that there was no such film….which got me to thinking..
“It’s like this. There are eight worlds, and they’re all interconnected…”