What I found interesting in Vegas was the unabashed mix of old and new, spotting the kitchy Flamingo Casino, which harks back to the days of the Mob and the o.g. Ocean's Eleven, sulking on hot pavement only a block away from newer posher glitz-palaces like the Bellagio and the Venetian. Where else but Las Vegas can you so openly embrace the fake?
It felt like the money was back, too, with s.r.o in the poker parlors and the Chanel and Alexander McQueen emporia getting ready to fend off a brand new Prada.
Me, I don't shop and I'm too cheap to gamble much, but I did hit the penny slots in homage to Eagle and made thirty bucks off one dollar slipped into a Dean Martin slot machine. Dino did a shimmy to congratulate me and a drunk old lady in a motorized wheelchair slumped to the carpet and was hauled away by casino staff, her husband with the Kenny Rogers beard slouching off to continue gambling.
There's a shadow constantly hovering at my shoulder. For all my gallivanting into the social whirl, nevermind the positive social media...
Ever wondered what it takes to get a piece of fiction published? I'm not talking New Yorker type of prose. That's a rarefied world ...
Check out my new video, a brief reading from a story published this past spring in Opossum.
Welp, after a half-year experiment in social media, BSP has returned to its blogger roots. I hated Faceborkland, tbh. Sure, it was easier t...