Leaving Las Vegas

Leaving Las Vegas. Sort of sums up the gambling portion of the trip: I was sitting in the lounge, in the Las Vegas Airport, I had my last ten bucks, and I carefully decided which machine to drop it into. One of two. I chose carefully, and that machine ran up a ways, then I lost it all. But next to me, a lady hit the other machine I was thinking about for a quick twenty bucks — in quarters. I didn’t want to lug that much metal around with me, anyway. “Yeah, right.” Of course, a prolonged losing streak means no casino by the time I get to El Paso. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. The year–long run of luck is gone, or so it would seem. Jupiter has just moved into Cancer, so I guess my luck will run to other avenues. I sure hope so. All day at airports, the flying version of touring the west, near as I can tell. “Out of the left side of the plane, you can see the Grand Canyon.” I ran into Neal Kassanoff of Neal Kassanoff fame, on the last plane into Austin. He looked at me, “Aren’t you Troy’s brother?” “No, just a friend.” We wound up chatting about the artistic process, and how Austin has priced itself out of the musicians’ market, and the things we’ve learned on the way. As we passed twin glimmering spots of light on the desert’s floor, I pointed out what I thought was Midland and Odessa. “You knew I grew up in Midland?” Neal asked, “Jewish in West Texas….” It’s a scary thought. I suspect more will be heard from him before this year is up. But I hit the ground running in Austin. Piles of work and details to attend to…. Still, it was a great wedding. I can hardly wait for the Klingon pictures.