Iowa, Sweet Iowa
Widespread Panic's Climb to Safety echoed in the background.
Nicky sat on the couch and played online poker.
She's been on a heater all day.
The gambling queen.
Up a couple of hundred.
She's been shopping for boots and clothes in between playing online poker.
I dove into a profitable sea as well.
Scribbled stuff all afternoon and uploaded pics and did laundry.
Feeling emotionally satisfied, I fired up the online poker tables and played with a couple of old friends.
I had not seen either in a while.
In Las Vegas.
In front of the Venetian.
Or was it at the craps tables at the Imperial Palace?
And that Hanel character?
Must have been last summer the last time I saw that clown.
He's now in Iowa.
As a skunk.
I would be shitfaced too if I lived in Iowa.
And Nickerson was in NYC.
On a work assignment.
Celebrating life outside of the fickle LA bubble.
Nickerson sat in a hotel room near Times Square overlooking the millions of roaches and rats, while I sat in the shadows of the hills of Hollyweird, sort of wishing I was in NYC.
When I was a kid, the hookers trolled the streets around Times Square.
A ring of fire, a circle of seduction, a perimeter of smut.
Something hallow yet with a hook, like a lyric from a Velvet Underground song.
When I think about being 7 in 1979, images of big ass afros and bell bottoms and grafitti-splashed broken-down subways flood me.