I had a dream early this morning. I originally woke up around 5:30am to take a piss. I went back to bed for less than twenty minutes and in that short time frame, I had the most vivid dream that I had experienced in several weeks.
I was in prison. Incarcerated for war crimes that I committed during two different stints on Wall Street. Shady bond trades in the 1990s and then churning and burning accounts of innocent Americans in the wake of 9/11 when I used to get on the phone use the patriot card to bully scared sheeple to invest in whatever bullshit stock that I was told to pitch that day. I used to be a slimy weasel on the phone and I got nailed for all of those injustices. I was thrown into a low security prison. A country club prison. The cells? More like a dorm room... without a lock on the door. I was free to roam the halls as I pleased and only a a series of large barbed wired fences kept me in.
Nicky was in the dream. She showed up for a conjugal visit. I told her that I was happy that I had been there for a few weeks and hadn't been raped in the shower. It turned out that everyone else in the prison were white collared criminals in their 40s and 50s. Crooked lawyers and accountants and other Wall Street types. They spent most of the time on the putting green around the corner from the tennis court.
I continued to update my blog and called up Otis to help me. I left voice messages and Otis would transcribes those and post them to the Tao of Pauly or Tao of Poker depending on the subject matter since we gambled a lot for cigarettes after dinner.
It was an odd dream and then I woke up. All that guilt had built up after two stints on Wall Street. I was naive and impressionable in my 20s and didn't know any better. However, I knew what was up the second time around and I was a glorified con man... in a better looking suit and with lamented business cards.
I worked on the latest issue of Truckin'. There are three writers who are at least 55 years or older. There are five scribes in total for the April issue. The other two? Betty Underground and myself. I gotta say that I'm excited for the next issue to showcase the talents of a trio of Baby Boomers.
I have been heavily distracted this week and managed minimal work on Project Z. Instead of freaking out, I accepted my fate this week. It just wasn't the perfect time to finish it up. Since I leave for Vegas on Thursday for four days, I decided to hold off for the last big spurt until next week. My new self-imposed deadline for the draft is April 5th... which is about a week longer than I originally anticipated. It could have been a lot worse.
And yes, I'm going to Las Vegas for several reasons. One is gambling, of course. I'm gonna try to win enough money to pay for Phish Red Rocks tickets which are going to cost me dearly since I whiffed on lottery/mail order. I'm heading out there for business reasons and have a couple of meetings scheduled. I'm also playing in an event at Caesar's Palace for Dream Team Poker. It's a tournament with teams of three players instead of just individuals. I'm playing with Michalski and Shaniac. Our team name is... Tao of Pokerati's 420 All Stars.
I found out the other day that I have been approved for press credentials at the 2009 WSOP. I will be moving to Las Vegas this summer for a fifth year in a row to cover the WSOP. This year is special because I have been credentialed under the Tao of Poker. I'm actually excited this summer. When I thought that 2006 was tough, I had the worst time in the summer of 2007. Parts of last year were fun, with the exception of the accident, but I went into last year looking forward to the summer because for the first time in a very long time I had 100% creative control. And I get that again this summer. That freedom does wonders for my writing and for my mental status.
Of course, I have to survive this impending trip first. I have 24 hours to get some work done before I fly out to Sin City, which means that I gotta go...