Vegas Subsides in Bleeping Waves

Okay, so I'll attempt a little writing tonight. Then it's zazen and bed for me, as I actually very much need to wake up at 7 tomorrow so I can make a running appointment.

Hopefully I'll have time for a little poetry in there, which is what I was working on last night. I don't feel comfortable talking about it yet; I'll need to see how it evolves.

So the big, simple thing I want to mention first is: Vegas, you just don't thrill me like you used to. I'm sorry baby, but it's true. That chapter in my life is over. I have no interest in gambling, in drinking, in desperate displays. I think the climax of this feeling was right before the second Leonard Cohen concert (yes, we went to both concerts. They were both wonderful and amazing, and I actually wept at the first one - I didn't tell Abby. The song? The Gypsy's Wife. Why? Not sure exactly. In My Secret Life and Boogie Street were pretty powerful for me, too).

[Stops writing to play on youtube - originally playing The Gypsy's Wife, but somehow, for some reason, looking at videos of the Webb Sisters.]

So before the concert I rushed over from Caesar's Palace to the Mirage so I could watch the new volcano display. Because why not? I powerwalked over there, waited a few minutes, saw some steam and water and fireballs for 5 minutes set to Mickey Hart's drumming, then powerwalked back. Abby asked me: How was it? My answer: Stupid. It was really, really stupid.

Now let me say, I had a similar experience my first time in Vegas. That time with the Sexy Pirate Show in front of Treasure Island. That is really, really, really stupid. Triple-really. Much more stupid than the volcano show. But somehow, the volcano show meant something different. The Sexy Pirate Show was a brief waste of time in a several-day trip of exciting and interesting things. When I saw the volcano show, not only was it stupid in that moment, but it made all of Las Vegas seem hollow to me.

It's just not the same. I don't think I was deceived in the past, when I was so fascinated by everything. I just think that those lessons are over. Vegas, to me, was a little bit of an eye-opener in terms of both creative energy, and the powerful feeling that comes from risk and lavishness. Good things to know about, to observe. It helped me look at a few issues and grow in new ways, particularly opening up the idea to me that I could be powerful, could make decisions and could create a feast for myself and the people around me. Vegas was like an ever churning pot of ideas and fantasies made reality; where the pleasure lurking inside of you gets a breath of fresh air. I am by no means a party animal, which makes it even laughable for me to be saying this concept applies to me, but even in my quiet, subtle way I could feel this.

I knew the dangers. As Sam phrased it this morning, the danger is getting trapped in fantasy worlds. Real empowerment, real creativity and real passion get stunted within the borders of a fantasy. Feeling needs to grow in the open. This makes a lot of sense to me. In fact, I felt sad this morning thinking about how much of my life is spent in these fantasy worlds.

But I knew about them back then. I was just not ready to leave them; I still had more business inside of them. But now I don't. Which is great. Which is fantastic. Which is the best news ever. As I was leaving this morning, Sam made a point of reminding me: it's a good thing you don't feel much of a push to gamble any more. I get this. I got it then, a little bit. I knew that this push to feel excited, to inhabit the fantasy worlds, was not a good thing, but I couldn't really see how. Similarly I could see that it was hurting Alexa, but not really understanding how or why. Though not well enough. These trips were actually not too pleasant, relationship wise. And I can see why, and I'm sorry I was not able to give up the things that made it shitty for both of us. Another reason to be sad; another reason to be happy I can move on.

My first time in Vegas, all I could feel was the frenetic rush to look at everything, be everywhere, do everything. Wanting something great, something vague, and, of course, not really getting it.

This time, all I wanted was intimacy, closeness, quietness. Again: sad that I did so much to spoil that, happy I can move on now.

That's plenty for tonight.

Good night, all.