part three: john the gorilla: the long hard never again

11:38.



I am at work and I am still drunk. Doubtless.



For real, I'm never going to finish the Vegas story unless I do it now, as a proper segue into last night.



It's Saturday and I'm in vegas and we're at a breakfast buffet. Every hotel feeds you in buffet form, whether you're at the Venetian or Lucky Louie's Bad Times Casino. I am in "line" behind a very scary cholo man and I think of Rebeca. He glances over at me while he fishes for eggs, and asks, "Where did you get that scar?"



There are people who have known me for months-- years, even, without asking this.



He catches me off guard and the response is kneejerk. "Gunfight," I tell him.



He nods approvingly and moves on. Breakfast is decent, not great. They have yogurt and I fill up on that. There is no better feeling in the world than just being completely overflowing from the inside, chock full of dairy products. It's how an IED must feel. A pipe bomb. Something simple, poorly made and deadly-- that's me, when I'm full of yogurt.



I go to the pool for a long time. 122 degrees in vegas. I fall asleep on my back, so I am now two distinct shades of tan with my shirt off. I am told that this drives the ladies crazy. Two-tone John is on the prowl; watch yourself.



We go to the family reunion thing. I am still a deranged fuckmonster, but I resist the urge to hit on my distant cousins. I sing some karaoke songs. I hit on the bartendress. Huge, overflowing, jiggling personality on that girl. I get drunk. Typing that, I want to throw up because I am drunk right now.



I tour vegas with some of my older cousins. I start gambling again. There is no poetry here; I lost everything. All my profits from the day before, the saved 200, everything. It's gone. I feel like a loser; mostly cause I lost over and over. Losers lose.



I go to sleep a broken man. I look like this picture. I hate las vegas. Forever.



I go home the next day. I'm all out of embellishments.

---



Last night I'm in PB and my phone rings at around 11:00. Next thing I know, I'm at SDSU drinking with my coworkers. I drink too much, too fast. Story of my life. I smoked all of Tina's cigarettes. Nice. I wake up mostly naked on a couch that isn't in the same house that I was drinking at. This was startling but not surprising. If there's a difference.



I am drunk at work now. Probably. I want to throw up. I am full of regret and alcohol. Which may be my next CD title.



The upside is that I recorded a sick version of All Choked Up into my keyboard this morning. That should sound good.