November has been the busiest month of the year.
It started off with lunch meetings and random sitdowns with different musicians. It then snowballed into planning. Then sample work. Then computer problems dealing with editing software in order to do sampling and recording. Setting up the practice area in the back to function at the most basic level for the band during auditions. The actual auditions (drummers), with my anxiety to do the right thing, be a good band leader, stay organized and on top of the game. Walk the line between professional and amateur band, where does the money go, who gets paid, when and where do we play? Find a drummer but then lose a guitarist, write new material, write tabs . . .
The day job has been hectic, too. There's always a reason to stay late, especially when working the closing shift. So, it bites into ample Patch time. I wish I could become an assistant again. More responsibility, but more time afterward. I'm content with Miniapple currently. It beats any other job, right now. There's hardly any preparation, it's pretty low key. It's fun to play with the kids. Unfortunately, if you're sick and needing personal time, or just some space, the job doesn't afford you that. So, stress accumulates, I get depressed, yaddah yaddah yaddah.
How to fix that? By finding new romance. Unfortunately, I haven't been very present. I feel bad. My mind is elsewhere, tired, stressed, and broken. Things are picking up careerwise, which is to say Patch is turning into an entity now. It's only going to get more insane.
December should prove to be more of the same. Constant work work work. On top of that, Christmas' hullaballoo will throw down a ton of stress on top of the Patch stress pile.
Am I ready for all of this?
Liars -- "Mr., You're On Fire, Mr."
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Within the Spokes
Dustin's out on his own accord. The other four are in.
Looking for a fifth . . .
The Hives -- "Tick Tick Boom"
Looking for a fifth . . .
The Hives -- "Tick Tick Boom"
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Food for Driving
I left Milwaukee a day earlier than expected. This meant that it was time to pay my dad a visit on my way home, driving through the outer suburbs of Milwaukee.
The last time I visited my dad and stepmom, they had grilled me on Patch, and said that they were uncomfortable with me saying and doing the things that I had been saying and doing with "Schematics". I left feeling really disgruntled. I had called my grandma and she sympathized with me. "I don't get your art either, but I accept it. I know you're not a dark person."
So, my dad is going to be receiving all of my Patch projects for free, but he'll never appreciate it the way that I'd want him to. My mom loves what I'm doing.
This visit, however, I was on my A-Game. Maybe it's because I've truly felt like I've changed since Halloween (drugs CAN be used for good), and because I've been managing, doing Patch nonstop since the beginning of November. I really haven't had a moment's rest, save for this trip. But not really. The trip was constantly full of activity.
We talked Patch Live instead of Patch music. They didn't grill me at all, just agreed with me and gave me advice on what to do with the current Live situation. There are a lot of questions circulating about the status of the current band members. One wants out if one stays in, basically.
I realized that my parents may not necessarily agree with the message of a demon fly within my brain screaming "I'll fucking bleed you" over and over, but at least they'll give me advice on hard decisions.
I left feeling good and able to conquer the hardships of starting this little band from the ground up. We're still in limbo . . .
Zaza -- "Sooner or Later"
The last time I visited my dad and stepmom, they had grilled me on Patch, and said that they were uncomfortable with me saying and doing the things that I had been saying and doing with "Schematics". I left feeling really disgruntled. I had called my grandma and she sympathized with me. "I don't get your art either, but I accept it. I know you're not a dark person."
So, my dad is going to be receiving all of my Patch projects for free, but he'll never appreciate it the way that I'd want him to. My mom loves what I'm doing.
This visit, however, I was on my A-Game. Maybe it's because I've truly felt like I've changed since Halloween (drugs CAN be used for good), and because I've been managing, doing Patch nonstop since the beginning of November. I really haven't had a moment's rest, save for this trip. But not really. The trip was constantly full of activity.
We talked Patch Live instead of Patch music. They didn't grill me at all, just agreed with me and gave me advice on what to do with the current Live situation. There are a lot of questions circulating about the status of the current band members. One wants out if one stays in, basically.
I realized that my parents may not necessarily agree with the message of a demon fly within my brain screaming "I'll fucking bleed you" over and over, but at least they'll give me advice on hard decisions.
I left feeling good and able to conquer the hardships of starting this little band from the ground up. We're still in limbo . . .
Zaza -- "Sooner or Later"
Friday, November 27, 2009
TSA: Tricks of Simulated Authenticity
Today we flew back to Milwaukee.
There are a couple of things that make me go on tirades. Rants galore. One: the song "Proud to Be an American". Nothing can be said, it speaks for itself. There's just a natural reaction within me that makes me dry heave whenever I hear it. It's cliche to comment on it. It's just a fucking stupid song.
Two: TSA Airport Security.
Why the single-serving liquid containers? I always forget this tidbit when I fly. I stupidly pack my regular big bottle servings of shaving cream, mouth wash, shampoo, etc. Are we going to make bombs? If someone wanted to, they would. What if someone had a bowl of gasoline at home and dissolved tons of styrofoam popcorn pieces in it until it thickened into napalm? You could dump that shit into various single-serving products and use them against the crew. Oh, with the four books of MATCHES that you're allowed to bring onboard, you could pretty much bring the plane down.
With 9/11, the terrorists wanted to strike terror into the hearts of Americans and the Western World. Why do we give them the benefit of us seeming like we're terrified of terrorism by having heightened faux security in our airports? They've won. Even if 9/11 was from the "inside", again, we're giving them the benefit of basking in a 1984 mentality. We feel comforted by this security, for some reason. Yet, going through it is terrifying. I am terrified by TSA, not going to lie. I knew my bag was going to be opened this time around because of a Roland drum sampler being nestled amongst my dirty underwear. I hate that they have the right to do that. At least they had to root through my dirty underwear to get to it. I take pleasure in that thought.
If there was true intent within a passenger to hijack a plane, nothing would stop them. The plastic cup you get mid-flight could be ripped to become an eye-stabbing weapon. The matches you're allowed to bring onboard could be used to light the magazines in the seat pouches, the sick bags as well.
I don't get TSA. Soldiers can go up to the front of the line as a Thank You for their service. I don't gripe and grovel at this, but it makes me think of that wretched song, "Proud to Be an American". TSA and this song go hand in hand. There's something odd about traveling nowadays, and I can't put my finger on it.
It feels like we're trying to cover up for a past mistake by acting tough and overbearing. It feels unneccesary. We've been terrorized, and the next instance of terrorism won't come from air traffic. We're half expecting that. It will be from something else entirely.
Malls, schools, Grand Central Station, convention centers. Places where, guess what, security is minimum.
I hate playing into dress-up games. TSA is a mandatory tea party without any real tea provided. If they had tea maybe I'd buy into it.
The Raveonettes -- "Attack of the Ghost Riders"
There are a couple of things that make me go on tirades. Rants galore. One: the song "Proud to Be an American". Nothing can be said, it speaks for itself. There's just a natural reaction within me that makes me dry heave whenever I hear it. It's cliche to comment on it. It's just a fucking stupid song.
Two: TSA Airport Security.
Why the single-serving liquid containers? I always forget this tidbit when I fly. I stupidly pack my regular big bottle servings of shaving cream, mouth wash, shampoo, etc. Are we going to make bombs? If someone wanted to, they would. What if someone had a bowl of gasoline at home and dissolved tons of styrofoam popcorn pieces in it until it thickened into napalm? You could dump that shit into various single-serving products and use them against the crew. Oh, with the four books of MATCHES that you're allowed to bring onboard, you could pretty much bring the plane down.
With 9/11, the terrorists wanted to strike terror into the hearts of Americans and the Western World. Why do we give them the benefit of us seeming like we're terrified of terrorism by having heightened faux security in our airports? They've won. Even if 9/11 was from the "inside", again, we're giving them the benefit of basking in a 1984 mentality. We feel comforted by this security, for some reason. Yet, going through it is terrifying. I am terrified by TSA, not going to lie. I knew my bag was going to be opened this time around because of a Roland drum sampler being nestled amongst my dirty underwear. I hate that they have the right to do that. At least they had to root through my dirty underwear to get to it. I take pleasure in that thought.
If there was true intent within a passenger to hijack a plane, nothing would stop them. The plastic cup you get mid-flight could be ripped to become an eye-stabbing weapon. The matches you're allowed to bring onboard could be used to light the magazines in the seat pouches, the sick bags as well.
I don't get TSA. Soldiers can go up to the front of the line as a Thank You for their service. I don't gripe and grovel at this, but it makes me think of that wretched song, "Proud to Be an American". TSA and this song go hand in hand. There's something odd about traveling nowadays, and I can't put my finger on it.
It feels like we're trying to cover up for a past mistake by acting tough and overbearing. It feels unneccesary. We've been terrorized, and the next instance of terrorism won't come from air traffic. We're half expecting that. It will be from something else entirely.
Malls, schools, Grand Central Station, convention centers. Places where, guess what, security is minimum.
I hate playing into dress-up games. TSA is a mandatory tea party without any real tea provided. If they had tea maybe I'd buy into it.
The Raveonettes -- "Attack of the Ghost Riders"
Thursday, November 26, 2009
My Thank You's Go Out to Russia
A centerpoint of conversation over a very splendid Thanksgiving dinner:
These are real bears. Trained for the Russian Circus. I almost threw up my turkey, I was laughing so hard.
Grizzly Bear -- "Deep Sea Diver"
These are real bears. Trained for the Russian Circus. I almost threw up my turkey, I was laughing so hard.
Grizzly Bear -- "Deep Sea Diver"
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Mecca
1990
I woke up early, wanting to play a little After Burner on Sega Genesis before having Cheerios. I was wearing Batman pajama's. I could get to the fourth level before dying, an accomplishment for a six year old who didn't have a gaming system at his home.
My mom and I were on vacation in Los Angeles, California. We were visiting my uncle in his apartment in Huntington Beach. He was still single. This was a big deal to me because the notorious big screen TV that projected my Mach 3 forays into enemy aviation combat was still in the living room. After the marriage three years later, the TV would be moved to the garage, a not-so-fun place for a kid to hang out in, especially when the uncle had no other children inspiring him to spruce the garage up into a play area.
I remember my mom dressing me up in a Hawaiian button up shirt and blue khaki shorts. I had a typical early 90's hat, complete with pastel orange, pink, and green colors. We were going to a very special place that day.
We were going to Disneyland. My mom and me.
I had never been on any rollercoaster before. Never been to an amusement park save for the Wisconsin State Fair midway where I did the minor circular kiddie rides and fun houses. I remember being completely intrigued with rollercoasters, watching them on TV. I was really itching to go on one, but nothing that extreme.
The first ride we went on was immediately off of Main Street in Tomorrowland. Star Tours. I had seen Star Wars on TV, and was completely taken by the animatronic C-3PO and R2D2 representations. I didn't believe they were there (one of the perks of going with small children to Disney parks is that they believe they are actually seeing Mickey, going into space, shrinking down to a centimeter in size to go into a body to find a splinter, etc.), but I was loving every minute of it. The simulator itself blew me away. I really enjoyed it.
It was a precursor, a pre-staging, for one of the most influential moments of my life. My mom said, "Let's do Space Mountain!" I said, "What's that?" She pointed to a funny looking building down the pathway. "You'll like it."
That's all she said. "Is it scary?" I asked.
"No."
We rode an escalator up into a queue area. It was early in the morning, so the line wasn't very long. I remember blindingly going along with my mom through spaceship hallways. I remember catching a glimpse of the loading area and realizing that it was a rollercoaster. I said to my mom, "You said this wouldn't be scary!"
"Just try it."
So I did.
I remember being strapped in between my mom's legs, and going into the lift hill area. Lights beamed everywhere. I was terrified. But in a good way.
That happy terror turned to complete and utter confusion as we went into the mountain, the main rollercoaster area. Inside the funny building is a rollercoaster completely in the dark, save for projections of stars and asteroids moving around and around the outer walls and track supports. The ride glided along, then dropped violently.
It was at this point that I lose track of memory. I remember being angry, I remember not being afraid but more thrilled. I was still scared, to some degree, but I knew I would live. It was an intense ride.
My first rollercoaster was Space Mountain. A ride completely in the dark, surprising you with drops you never knew were there. Thanks Mom.
We got off the ride, and I remember being really angry with her. "You said it wasn't scary!" I yelled. "I didn't know, Peter," she replied.
Anyone who knows me knows that this attribute of my mom, playfully bullshitting people to go along with an experience like Space Mountain, or any other fun but uncomfortable situation, has been instilled in me. I credit Space Mountain to be the main instigator of this attribute.
I made her promise to not take me on any other rollercoasters. She said fine.
We rode the now defunct People Mover, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, the Haunted Mansion, Pirates of the Carribean (more drops in the dark), the train, It's a Small World, Jungle Cruise.
The ride that stands out as the one that started it all, the obsession with theme parks, my love of presentation through immersive experiences, acting, telling stories through theater and music, Patch . . . was Big Thunder Mountain Railroad.
My mom wanted to go on this one. I immediately said, "NO! No rollercoasters!" She said, "It's not in the dark, you can see where you're going. Try it." I looked at it.
It looked awesomely terrifying. I had to try it. Even then, I knew that I really really wanted to like this machine that intrigued me so much from television specials. I wanted to triumph over it.
It was the greatest ride of my life. Might still be, in that it was the most important ride of my life. I loved every second of it. The hills, the theme, the caves. It was intense, but not too intense. I grasped it.
I was done for. A good chunk of my personality was bred from this ride. Sounds corny, but it's true.
---------------------------------------
2009
Today I visited Disneyland for the third time in my life. I went there by myself, taking it all in at my leisure. I had some Patch business I wanted to talk about with the band and I waited until I was in line for Big Thunder Mountain to do it. A kind of homage to where a lot of the influence started. It was bittersweet.
And Space Mountain, riding it at 25 now instead of 6, might be the better ride overall. It takes your breath away. And the Imagineers have outfitted the trains with music speakers to have a soundtrack along with the ride. They've redone the track to make it less bumpy and have more hills. It's a fantastic ride.
A good day. A good day, indeed.
Tape Deck Mountain -- "In the Dirt"
I woke up early, wanting to play a little After Burner on Sega Genesis before having Cheerios. I was wearing Batman pajama's. I could get to the fourth level before dying, an accomplishment for a six year old who didn't have a gaming system at his home.
My mom and I were on vacation in Los Angeles, California. We were visiting my uncle in his apartment in Huntington Beach. He was still single. This was a big deal to me because the notorious big screen TV that projected my Mach 3 forays into enemy aviation combat was still in the living room. After the marriage three years later, the TV would be moved to the garage, a not-so-fun place for a kid to hang out in, especially when the uncle had no other children inspiring him to spruce the garage up into a play area.
I remember my mom dressing me up in a Hawaiian button up shirt and blue khaki shorts. I had a typical early 90's hat, complete with pastel orange, pink, and green colors. We were going to a very special place that day.
We were going to Disneyland. My mom and me.
I had never been on any rollercoaster before. Never been to an amusement park save for the Wisconsin State Fair midway where I did the minor circular kiddie rides and fun houses. I remember being completely intrigued with rollercoasters, watching them on TV. I was really itching to go on one, but nothing that extreme.
The first ride we went on was immediately off of Main Street in Tomorrowland. Star Tours. I had seen Star Wars on TV, and was completely taken by the animatronic C-3PO and R2D2 representations. I didn't believe they were there (one of the perks of going with small children to Disney parks is that they believe they are actually seeing Mickey, going into space, shrinking down to a centimeter in size to go into a body to find a splinter, etc.), but I was loving every minute of it. The simulator itself blew me away. I really enjoyed it.
It was a precursor, a pre-staging, for one of the most influential moments of my life. My mom said, "Let's do Space Mountain!" I said, "What's that?" She pointed to a funny looking building down the pathway. "You'll like it."
That's all she said. "Is it scary?" I asked.
"No."
We rode an escalator up into a queue area. It was early in the morning, so the line wasn't very long. I remember blindingly going along with my mom through spaceship hallways. I remember catching a glimpse of the loading area and realizing that it was a rollercoaster. I said to my mom, "You said this wouldn't be scary!"
"Just try it."
So I did.
I remember being strapped in between my mom's legs, and going into the lift hill area. Lights beamed everywhere. I was terrified. But in a good way.
That happy terror turned to complete and utter confusion as we went into the mountain, the main rollercoaster area. Inside the funny building is a rollercoaster completely in the dark, save for projections of stars and asteroids moving around and around the outer walls and track supports. The ride glided along, then dropped violently.
It was at this point that I lose track of memory. I remember being angry, I remember not being afraid but more thrilled. I was still scared, to some degree, but I knew I would live. It was an intense ride.
My first rollercoaster was Space Mountain. A ride completely in the dark, surprising you with drops you never knew were there. Thanks Mom.
We got off the ride, and I remember being really angry with her. "You said it wasn't scary!" I yelled. "I didn't know, Peter," she replied.
Anyone who knows me knows that this attribute of my mom, playfully bullshitting people to go along with an experience like Space Mountain, or any other fun but uncomfortable situation, has been instilled in me. I credit Space Mountain to be the main instigator of this attribute.
I made her promise to not take me on any other rollercoasters. She said fine.
We rode the now defunct People Mover, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, the Haunted Mansion, Pirates of the Carribean (more drops in the dark), the train, It's a Small World, Jungle Cruise.
The ride that stands out as the one that started it all, the obsession with theme parks, my love of presentation through immersive experiences, acting, telling stories through theater and music, Patch . . . was Big Thunder Mountain Railroad.
My mom wanted to go on this one. I immediately said, "NO! No rollercoasters!" She said, "It's not in the dark, you can see where you're going. Try it." I looked at it.
It looked awesomely terrifying. I had to try it. Even then, I knew that I really really wanted to like this machine that intrigued me so much from television specials. I wanted to triumph over it.
It was the greatest ride of my life. Might still be, in that it was the most important ride of my life. I loved every second of it. The hills, the theme, the caves. It was intense, but not too intense. I grasped it.
I was done for. A good chunk of my personality was bred from this ride. Sounds corny, but it's true.
---------------------------------------
2009
Today I visited Disneyland for the third time in my life. I went there by myself, taking it all in at my leisure. I had some Patch business I wanted to talk about with the band and I waited until I was in line for Big Thunder Mountain to do it. A kind of homage to where a lot of the influence started. It was bittersweet.
And Space Mountain, riding it at 25 now instead of 6, might be the better ride overall. It takes your breath away. And the Imagineers have outfitted the trains with music speakers to have a soundtrack along with the ride. They've redone the track to make it less bumpy and have more hills. It's a fantastic ride.
A good day. A good day, indeed.
Tape Deck Mountain -- "In the Dirt"
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Exasperations
A culmination of family history came to a head today over Truth Syrum and Italian Pasta.
My brother, the most poignant antagonist in my life, is also my mom's antagonist. She told me this during dinner, the wine we just had acting as Truth Lube.
And she feels the pain more than I do, now. That's hard to hear, considering that I feel like the most inadequate buffoon known to man after visiting with him. What does she feel like?
Fuck, I thought India was going to change you, Mike.
Wye Oak -- "Take It In"
My brother, the most poignant antagonist in my life, is also my mom's antagonist. She told me this during dinner, the wine we just had acting as Truth Lube.
And she feels the pain more than I do, now. That's hard to hear, considering that I feel like the most inadequate buffoon known to man after visiting with him. What does she feel like?
Fuck, I thought India was going to change you, Mike.
Wye Oak -- "Take It In"
Monday, November 23, 2009
The Bare
When I was growing up, I used to make up games involving pathways. People would have to follow my pathways, passing by scenes, needing to use Big Wheel bikes to go down hillsides, finding clues to what they were going to see in each new section. I would take State Park maps and figure out courses for people to follow along nature trails in order to read stories that I would come up with. Each chapter would be found in boxes at different checkpoints.
This was birthed out of a place of creativity and control. Storylines and pathways, new ways of telling the stories, different tools and instruments being utilized to make the stories more interesting. What massive core of my life has all this led to?
One of the byproducts of this game for me was the incessant need to explore EVERY facet of something I was interested in. If I went to a theme park, we had to do EVERY ride. My group would have to follow a "course", visiting smaller rides and building up to the megaloopers. When I visited Disney World in 2003, my mom and I did EVERYTHING. Every bathroom, every shop, every restaurant and every ride was experienced. In every park. Including the Downtown shops, the water parks, the mini golf courses. Let's just say I'm good on Disney World right now. I don't need to visit anytime soon.
If I love a band, I have to get ALL of their work. EP's, singles, all of the LP's (I sometimes leave out Live CD's, though. Live CD's are . . . eh). Legos? I had to get complete sets. I had all of the Aquanauts products back in the day (I still have the main base set up at my mom's house on a shelf in my old room), all of the Castle line as well. All of the Pixar movies. The list goes on.
So, when it came to Vegas today, I wanted to explore everything. If no one else was going to come along, I would've done it by myself.
The problem with doing everything is that things start getting repetitive and boring. Last night, I was floored by Vegas. From "Love" to Caesar's to the casino in Paris. Today, I started to get Vegas. And the glory was coming apart at the seams.
Every hotel has a casino. Every hotel has a theme. You can separate the good hotels from the bad by how well they integrate the theming with their casino area/mall area. For instance: Paris = Great Hotel! because of their integration of French fountains, the Tower, and fake streets going around the slot machines. The Venetian = Great Hotel! The mall area has fucking canals with gondola rides in the middle of the hotel with actual singing gondoliers! Excalibur = Not as Cool because of a loose castle look. Some places have bare walls. They should have brick walls with turrets and towers everywhere. Luxor = Pretty Good for their Egyptian theme. It's a little dark and creepy in there, though. Mandalay Bay = Not as Cool because I can't figure out what the theme is. Cool things inside, but I don't get it. Circus Circus = Not as Cool because it's old and just creepy. The 70's are showing through in the circus theme. Plus, the Adventuredome indoor theme park is vastly lacking. I'm surprised the place is still open.
The best hotels:
The Bellagio = The theme is confusing, but it's decadently Italian oriented. This place is Ritzy. Everyone is dressed to the nines here (I was in a thermal shirt and red jeans, basically my work clothes. Underdressed.). It just looks amazing all around.
New York, New York = Theming is spot on. New York skylines and streets, bars made to look like they're built onto a street corner. A fucking rollercoaster going through the skyline!!!
Paris = Best theme job overall. I've already spluged on this one.
The Venetian = Another great theme job. Plus, seriously, CANALS?!?!?!
Winn = Ritzy. Cool casino, too.
Runner Ups:
Caesar's Palace = Good theming, but there could be more. The Colosseum is a nice touch, though.
The Palazzo = A cross between The Bellagio and The Venetian. Just decadent and vaguely Italian.
Treasure Island = Adventure themed with rocks.
The Mirage = Adventure themed with rocks. A twofer. Get more original.
Luxor = Cool Egyptian theme, but the place is depressing because of all the grey interior. The outside's awesome, though.
Circus Circus = Just for the creep factor alone it's kind of interesting.
Not worth seeing:
Bally's, Flamingo, Hurrah's, Stratosphere (unless you want to pay $40 to go to the top of the tower to ride some rides), Excalibur, Mandalay Bay (unless you want to go for the bars and restaurants).
I didn't hit MGM Grand or the Riviera, though. I heard they weren't that special. I would've liked to have gone through Sahara and Rio, though.
After exploring all of these places, I was done with Vegas. Next time I'd like to pick a few places and just drink, gamble, and party. With people my own age, too. Get dressed up. See Cirque du Soleil one night (they have six shows in Vegas!). Maybe even venture off into the old Vegas, where the Golden Nugget resides.
Have more of a Sin-filled experience . . .
Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons -- "Walk Like a Man"
P.S.: The Jersey Boys is a pretty awesome show, as well. A bit expensive, though.
This was birthed out of a place of creativity and control. Storylines and pathways, new ways of telling the stories, different tools and instruments being utilized to make the stories more interesting. What massive core of my life has all this led to?
One of the byproducts of this game for me was the incessant need to explore EVERY facet of something I was interested in. If I went to a theme park, we had to do EVERY ride. My group would have to follow a "course", visiting smaller rides and building up to the megaloopers. When I visited Disney World in 2003, my mom and I did EVERYTHING. Every bathroom, every shop, every restaurant and every ride was experienced. In every park. Including the Downtown shops, the water parks, the mini golf courses. Let's just say I'm good on Disney World right now. I don't need to visit anytime soon.
If I love a band, I have to get ALL of their work. EP's, singles, all of the LP's (I sometimes leave out Live CD's, though. Live CD's are . . . eh). Legos? I had to get complete sets. I had all of the Aquanauts products back in the day (I still have the main base set up at my mom's house on a shelf in my old room), all of the Castle line as well. All of the Pixar movies. The list goes on.
So, when it came to Vegas today, I wanted to explore everything. If no one else was going to come along, I would've done it by myself.
The problem with doing everything is that things start getting repetitive and boring. Last night, I was floored by Vegas. From "Love" to Caesar's to the casino in Paris. Today, I started to get Vegas. And the glory was coming apart at the seams.
Every hotel has a casino. Every hotel has a theme. You can separate the good hotels from the bad by how well they integrate the theming with their casino area/mall area. For instance: Paris = Great Hotel! because of their integration of French fountains, the Tower, and fake streets going around the slot machines. The Venetian = Great Hotel! The mall area has fucking canals with gondola rides in the middle of the hotel with actual singing gondoliers! Excalibur = Not as Cool because of a loose castle look. Some places have bare walls. They should have brick walls with turrets and towers everywhere. Luxor = Pretty Good for their Egyptian theme. It's a little dark and creepy in there, though. Mandalay Bay = Not as Cool because I can't figure out what the theme is. Cool things inside, but I don't get it. Circus Circus = Not as Cool because it's old and just creepy. The 70's are showing through in the circus theme. Plus, the Adventuredome indoor theme park is vastly lacking. I'm surprised the place is still open.
The best hotels:
The Bellagio = The theme is confusing, but it's decadently Italian oriented. This place is Ritzy. Everyone is dressed to the nines here (I was in a thermal shirt and red jeans, basically my work clothes. Underdressed.). It just looks amazing all around.
New York, New York = Theming is spot on. New York skylines and streets, bars made to look like they're built onto a street corner. A fucking rollercoaster going through the skyline!!!
Paris = Best theme job overall. I've already spluged on this one.
The Venetian = Another great theme job. Plus, seriously, CANALS?!?!?!
Winn = Ritzy. Cool casino, too.
Runner Ups:
Caesar's Palace = Good theming, but there could be more. The Colosseum is a nice touch, though.
The Palazzo = A cross between The Bellagio and The Venetian. Just decadent and vaguely Italian.
Treasure Island = Adventure themed with rocks.
The Mirage = Adventure themed with rocks. A twofer. Get more original.
Luxor = Cool Egyptian theme, but the place is depressing because of all the grey interior. The outside's awesome, though.
Circus Circus = Just for the creep factor alone it's kind of interesting.
Not worth seeing:
Bally's, Flamingo, Hurrah's, Stratosphere (unless you want to pay $40 to go to the top of the tower to ride some rides), Excalibur, Mandalay Bay (unless you want to go for the bars and restaurants).
I didn't hit MGM Grand or the Riviera, though. I heard they weren't that special. I would've liked to have gone through Sahara and Rio, though.
After exploring all of these places, I was done with Vegas. Next time I'd like to pick a few places and just drink, gamble, and party. With people my own age, too. Get dressed up. See Cirque du Soleil one night (they have six shows in Vegas!). Maybe even venture off into the old Vegas, where the Golden Nugget resides.
Have more of a Sin-filled experience . . .
Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons -- "Walk Like a Man"
P.S.: The Jersey Boys is a pretty awesome show, as well. A bit expensive, though.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
The Strip
Having never been in a desert, and/or Nevada, and/or Las Vegas, I felt that I was about to embark on an experience left to the whims of unknowing absorption. That's just what I went through.
The Mojave Desert looks otherworldly. I can totally grasp why Hollywood would choose this region to film Mars landscape footage, or any other desert like planet in a sci-fi epic. Death Valley was the locale for Tatooine in Star Wars, I know. Death Valley is just a ways north of where we were driving. I kept getting lost in thought amongst the mountains and rocky cliffs. It was great. There was even a defunct waterpark along I-15, totally overrun by weedlike desert vegetation. I want to explore there one day.
Getting into Vegas, you're not thrust headfirst into a clusterfuck of stimulation. Small scale towers show up here and there, and then you see the Strip. A small oasis of towers along the freeway. It looked like we were pulling up to a theme park. The towers aren't massively huge. They're okay from the angle of the freeway, their true scale. But from their front angle, along Las Vegas Blvd., they appear as towering monoliths, Holy Towers for the American Playground, beckoning the fool to come closer, to partake in their hidden innards.
We immediately sought The Mirage in order to procure our tickets for "Love", the Cirque du Soleil show honoring The Beatles. It was a prologue to madness. To the overstimulation I hinted at above. The Mirage totes a small but satisfying biodome as their main rotunda, complete with lush tropical gardens and cascading waterfalls. I've seen that before. The casino within, Mystic Lake provided me with enough know-how about the casino racket to not be too overtaken with "WOW!"-ness. It wasn't until we walked up to the "Love" box office that I started getting wind to how crazy Vegas would be. It is a rainbow of psychedelia, the floor changes color, the ceiling made of silver reflective balls, making it so that massive amounts of Sgt. Pepper colors are falling all around you. We got our tickets and made our way to the Paris.
Here's where my heart kicked up a notch. The Paris sports a half-scale Eiffel Tower in the front of the building, with the back half's bottom nestled within the main center room. You go inside the building, and all around the Eiffel Tower are fountains, slot machines, fake skyscapes painted on the ceiling, bars and lounges that look like French cafes. A Cabaret theatre is placed in one corner, a nice restaurant (Mon Ami Gabi) in another, and a crystal chandeliered check-in hall juts off from one end as well. We dropped our bags in this check-in hall, and my aunt said, "You're a Vegas virgin, aren't you?" I nodded, eyes wide, looking into the Paris casino. She said, "Go buy your first drink at the lounge there and walk around, I'll watch the bags."
I bought a $9 Gin and Tonic (nine goddamn dollars?!) and casually strolled along fake French alleyways, art galleries celebrating French book cover art, took in a game of Craps (I always think of someone shouting "Silva Tuna tonight!!!!" as they shake their dice, ready to let 'em roll), marveled at the Tower crashing through the ceiling like a lone Godzilla leg that has carelessly strolled through in its rampage, peroused the night club (Risque), the chocolate shoppes, the winery . . . the place was overwhelming.
We got to our rooms and I couldn't wait to get out onto the Strip. I looked out of my window and could see Caesar's Palace across the street, Trump Tower down the way, Treasure Island and The Mirage. We quickly got dressed up, had a few Cosmo's made by my uncle, and walked over to Caesar's for dinner. Again, fake skies, massive fountains, waterfalls . . . this was the first time that I noticed that every hotel holds a small mall within its bowels. Complete with theming.
We ate an expensive crab dinner (talking family politics, I don't grow tired of this). I cut my finger peeling a crab claw pincher. A crab cut. I bled all over my dinner before I realized what was happening. I then had the best Filet Mignon I've ever tasted (sorry fellow veggie friends).
We headed on over to The Mirage for "Love".
We first stepped into the Revolution Lounge, a fully immersive bar blasting Beatles music, complete with interactive coffee tables, walls that would spontaneously show movies of the Beatles, it was a great place to lube the senses with alcohol before stepping into the "Love Theater" . . .
I was left teary-eyed five times over. At Miniapple, I had found the CD version of "Love" hidden within a case designated for classical music. We've been waking the kids up to it for the last month cranked high enough that I'm sure other rooms can hear it at distracting levels. The kids love "Hey Jude", "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds", "Octopus's Garden" and "Sgt. Pepper (Reprise)" the most, it seems. I kept thinking of them and my coworkers, wishing they could see how beautiful the production was. Every song was different. My personal favorites were probably "Within You Without You" (a table of dreaming clowns spreads its dining cloth so that it covers the entire audience with a white tarp, making it appear as if the table is floating through a massive dream landscape of clouds and thought), "Octopus's Garden" (huge jellyfish prosthetic puppets worn by the performers rocket through the air from all around at dangerous speeds), "Come Together" (a great light show spotlight fiasco focusing on one performer at a time, going perfectly with the music, simple as can be idea-wise, but the moves the performers do are downright almost humanly impossible!). All the songs were great.
Here's a documentary I found from the BBC detailing "Love" and the conception of it with the surviving members of The Beatles to the current production. Click on the video to go to YouTube and you can watch the successive parts of the show.
Afterward, we were beat. I was drunk and tired. It was a great first impression of Sin City, which so far, didn't seem to have Sin in massive quantities like I had thought. It was very family friendly so far.
The Beatles -- "Helter Skelter"
The Mojave Desert looks otherworldly. I can totally grasp why Hollywood would choose this region to film Mars landscape footage, or any other desert like planet in a sci-fi epic. Death Valley was the locale for Tatooine in Star Wars, I know. Death Valley is just a ways north of where we were driving. I kept getting lost in thought amongst the mountains and rocky cliffs. It was great. There was even a defunct waterpark along I-15, totally overrun by weedlike desert vegetation. I want to explore there one day.
Getting into Vegas, you're not thrust headfirst into a clusterfuck of stimulation. Small scale towers show up here and there, and then you see the Strip. A small oasis of towers along the freeway. It looked like we were pulling up to a theme park. The towers aren't massively huge. They're okay from the angle of the freeway, their true scale. But from their front angle, along Las Vegas Blvd., they appear as towering monoliths, Holy Towers for the American Playground, beckoning the fool to come closer, to partake in their hidden innards.
We immediately sought The Mirage in order to procure our tickets for "Love", the Cirque du Soleil show honoring The Beatles. It was a prologue to madness. To the overstimulation I hinted at above. The Mirage totes a small but satisfying biodome as their main rotunda, complete with lush tropical gardens and cascading waterfalls. I've seen that before. The casino within, Mystic Lake provided me with enough know-how about the casino racket to not be too overtaken with "WOW!"-ness. It wasn't until we walked up to the "Love" box office that I started getting wind to how crazy Vegas would be. It is a rainbow of psychedelia, the floor changes color, the ceiling made of silver reflective balls, making it so that massive amounts of Sgt. Pepper colors are falling all around you. We got our tickets and made our way to the Paris.
Here's where my heart kicked up a notch. The Paris sports a half-scale Eiffel Tower in the front of the building, with the back half's bottom nestled within the main center room. You go inside the building, and all around the Eiffel Tower are fountains, slot machines, fake skyscapes painted on the ceiling, bars and lounges that look like French cafes. A Cabaret theatre is placed in one corner, a nice restaurant (Mon Ami Gabi) in another, and a crystal chandeliered check-in hall juts off from one end as well. We dropped our bags in this check-in hall, and my aunt said, "You're a Vegas virgin, aren't you?" I nodded, eyes wide, looking into the Paris casino. She said, "Go buy your first drink at the lounge there and walk around, I'll watch the bags."
I bought a $9 Gin and Tonic (nine goddamn dollars?!) and casually strolled along fake French alleyways, art galleries celebrating French book cover art, took in a game of Craps (I always think of someone shouting "Silva Tuna tonight!!!!" as they shake their dice, ready to let 'em roll), marveled at the Tower crashing through the ceiling like a lone Godzilla leg that has carelessly strolled through in its rampage, peroused the night club (Risque), the chocolate shoppes, the winery . . . the place was overwhelming.
We got to our rooms and I couldn't wait to get out onto the Strip. I looked out of my window and could see Caesar's Palace across the street, Trump Tower down the way, Treasure Island and The Mirage. We quickly got dressed up, had a few Cosmo's made by my uncle, and walked over to Caesar's for dinner. Again, fake skies, massive fountains, waterfalls . . . this was the first time that I noticed that every hotel holds a small mall within its bowels. Complete with theming.
We ate an expensive crab dinner (talking family politics, I don't grow tired of this). I cut my finger peeling a crab claw pincher. A crab cut. I bled all over my dinner before I realized what was happening. I then had the best Filet Mignon I've ever tasted (sorry fellow veggie friends).
We headed on over to The Mirage for "Love".
We first stepped into the Revolution Lounge, a fully immersive bar blasting Beatles music, complete with interactive coffee tables, walls that would spontaneously show movies of the Beatles, it was a great place to lube the senses with alcohol before stepping into the "Love Theater" . . .
I was left teary-eyed five times over. At Miniapple, I had found the CD version of "Love" hidden within a case designated for classical music. We've been waking the kids up to it for the last month cranked high enough that I'm sure other rooms can hear it at distracting levels. The kids love "Hey Jude", "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds", "Octopus's Garden" and "Sgt. Pepper (Reprise)" the most, it seems. I kept thinking of them and my coworkers, wishing they could see how beautiful the production was. Every song was different. My personal favorites were probably "Within You Without You" (a table of dreaming clowns spreads its dining cloth so that it covers the entire audience with a white tarp, making it appear as if the table is floating through a massive dream landscape of clouds and thought), "Octopus's Garden" (huge jellyfish prosthetic puppets worn by the performers rocket through the air from all around at dangerous speeds), "Come Together" (a great light show spotlight fiasco focusing on one performer at a time, going perfectly with the music, simple as can be idea-wise, but the moves the performers do are downright almost humanly impossible!). All the songs were great.
Here's a documentary I found from the BBC detailing "Love" and the conception of it with the surviving members of The Beatles to the current production. Click on the video to go to YouTube and you can watch the successive parts of the show.
Afterward, we were beat. I was drunk and tired. It was a great first impression of Sin City, which so far, didn't seem to have Sin in massive quantities like I had thought. It was very family friendly so far.
The Beatles -- "Helter Skelter"
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Forgotten Taboos
A couple posts ago, I mentioned how it seems that former lovers tend to not dwell on the fact that yes, we were, in fact, lovers some time ago. It comes as a shock to them if I ever mention anything pertaining to that fact.
I flew into Los Angeles today, and pretty much from the get-go, I met up with one of my exes. She happens to hold the record for longest relationship yet in my life. She moved to California two years ago and doesn't regret one bit the decisions she has made. Or that we made in terms of our relationship some four or five years ago. Neither do I, really. It's good that we chose to do what we did.
But it still comes as a shock to me when people know nothing about me when it comes to her. I met some of her friends on our way to a loft party in downtown LA. We all hit it off splendidly. At the party, one of these people asked, "So, how did you two meet?" I said, "Oh, we dated for two and a half years." They stopped dancing, their eyes got wide, and they said, "REALLY?! I didn't know that. Two years?!" They left to go talk to her.
I laughed and started talking with a man who happens to be a conceptual artist for the Guitar Hero franchise. Lots of interesting things going on in that realm . . . top secret plans . . .
Left to my own devices while crashing on a couch, I thought about the difference between me and the former lovers I've had. Why do all of my friends know about my past? Why do their friends know nothing about their past? Does it hurt to think about what we were? I doubt it.
Is it a sign that I should keep my trap shut regarding my past and just traipse along in the present, looking forward to the future? I doubt that, too.
I guess it doesn't matter. Maybe I should just take pleasure in seeing the reactions people have when they ask "How did you two meet?"
I'll settle with that.
Thao Nguyen -- "Beat (Health, Life, Fire)"
I flew into Los Angeles today, and pretty much from the get-go, I met up with one of my exes. She happens to hold the record for longest relationship yet in my life. She moved to California two years ago and doesn't regret one bit the decisions she has made. Or that we made in terms of our relationship some four or five years ago. Neither do I, really. It's good that we chose to do what we did.
But it still comes as a shock to me when people know nothing about me when it comes to her. I met some of her friends on our way to a loft party in downtown LA. We all hit it off splendidly. At the party, one of these people asked, "So, how did you two meet?" I said, "Oh, we dated for two and a half years." They stopped dancing, their eyes got wide, and they said, "REALLY?! I didn't know that. Two years?!" They left to go talk to her.
I laughed and started talking with a man who happens to be a conceptual artist for the Guitar Hero franchise. Lots of interesting things going on in that realm . . . top secret plans . . .
Left to my own devices while crashing on a couch, I thought about the difference between me and the former lovers I've had. Why do all of my friends know about my past? Why do their friends know nothing about their past? Does it hurt to think about what we were? I doubt it.
Is it a sign that I should keep my trap shut regarding my past and just traipse along in the present, looking forward to the future? I doubt that, too.
I guess it doesn't matter. Maybe I should just take pleasure in seeing the reactions people have when they ask "How did you two meet?"
I'll settle with that.
Thao Nguyen -- "Beat (Health, Life, Fire)"
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