Let me liken entering Rick Blaine’s Place to delving into the blackest night. Particularly on sun-blasted Las Vegas afternoons. Continue reading The Modigliani Girl Appears
“Silly season” is an Anglophile conceit. Across the Atlantic, it’s Brit shorthand for that carefree time of year when news seldom rises above trivial and the frivolous assumes gravity.
Were that the American version of the silly season consisted of the same confections.
Instead the menace and insipient violence always lurking beneath the surface of ordinary life here frequently shatters summers’ otherwise lightness. Hawks devour our larks. Vultures then pick over what scraps remain on the bones.
Our silly season has the likelihood of going overboard this this year. Continue reading Under the Stateside Sun
Know a discriminating cabdriver in Las Vegas. He prefers avoiding collecting passengers on the Strip. Let me qualify that. He prefers not collecting certain kinds of Strip passengers.
Daytime fares are fine. It’s who emerges at night which dissuades him. Continue reading Drunken Mistress
The template to “Ricky,” someone referenced in my ebook Reveries (http://www.amazon.com/Reveries-ebook/dp/B004H8G1KO/), recently left me a message. Between work, launching my writing, and living, we haven’t socialized much lately. My hours are allocated. His remain formless.
Decades ago I may’ve been a “Ricky.” Young American males commonly pattern themselves after him. Generally “Ricky” wallows and indulges in women and beer. I’ll proudly cop to that much! Exuding confidence, he’s the sort who attracts women and appeals to men.
Both want to orbit him. Women because his proximity raises their value, while men wish to share his esteem, if not appropriate a measure of same.
Of course being “Ricky” has a shelf life. Around 30 nature usually diminishes the dazzle. If “Ricky” is lucky, and hasn’t been struck blind by too much self-adulation, he understands how he must transition into a more substantial adult. Continue reading Yield From Effort