Reno Vacation…Don’t Gamble

Jesus Christ, I started this post like I run a goddamn travel blog.

I’m fucking beat…that whole vacation from a vacation thing applies to this weekend. I just need to relax, maybe drink some beer, play cards, and not get trashed since I spent a week getting trashed 18 hours a day.

I feel stupider and fatter today than when I left—pretty much how you’re supposed to feel if you truly had a good time.

Oh, and I’m darker.

Oh, and broker. A lot broker.

I don’t gamble much, unless you count unprotected sex and drunk driving, but I decided that I would this time because my mom and uncles enjoy it.

Well, I lost two hundred bucks the first night playing blackjack. Fucking shit. The goddamn dealer was getting 21 on 15 and 14 non stop. I don’t gamble, but as a kid I learned how to play blackjack from my grandpa, who was a card counter, so I have a good grasp on the game. I can’t count cards, but I know when it’s advantageous to hit and stay, and I know progressive betting based off the cards already used in a single deck—none of that mattered, my mom and I got raped by this dealer. It wasn’t fun at all, though I could’ve been winning and I still wouldn’t have fun; gambling is just stupid—casinos exist because they make more money than lose. Enough Said.

I lost another two hundred dollars playing slots.

I’m done gambling.

 

We spent most of our time at the pool drinking and watching the kids play. My cousin had a room on the bottom floor, next to the pool, so we just kept a few gallons of vodka and rum stocked, and had the kids feed them to us throughout the day.

Two bad things happened:

1)My racist uncle said porch monkey around my sister, who has two black kids, and I nearly killed him. My mom had to hold me back. She told us the usual, “that’s just the way he is”. FUCK THAT. I’m not having it. That was his one. Never again.

2) Someone stole my medication. Fuck. Had to file a police report. Upside: the hotel is going to call me for compensation. Maybe I’ll get a few free rooms.

Other than those, it was amazing.

I took my mom out to a fancy dinner at a place called Bininis. Her and I shared a 40oz tomahawk prime rib—it was divine…expensive as fuck, but divine.

I chose to sleep early the last night, and guess what, everybody won; not just win though, they made 6 thousand dollars between four of them.

I just have bad fucking luck. If I were there they’d be down.

 

And then I went home. There’s probably more to say, but I’m bored, and my brother bought tequila. Adios.

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Home

Hello lovely people of WordPress. My apologies for not posting anything interesting, not saying this is, but I’ve been moving for the past few weeks. I’m not completely done, but I managed to finish my room, with the exception of some art I need to do on a few blank spots on my wall.

I’m back home to the south side of San Jose, and it’s beautiful—it’s home. I live right across the street from the drive ins I used to roll into with a trunk full of booze and women. A place where I drank, smoke, fucked, passed out while watching movies from 7pm to 2am for $6.50, jumping from screen to screen, sometimes watching four movies in one night. A place where I passed out with a girl on a Saturday night, woke up Sunday morning to the flea market, that’s held there every weekend, being set up around my car, with a dead battery that I was able to take out and replace with a new one I bought from a nice Mexican man with an automotive stand, and replace it within an hour. A place where I saw a double feature of the first Austin Powers and Shaq’s Kazaam. A place with shitty nachos but is right across the street from a Stromboli place that I could order from, hop the fence, pick  up, hop back and feast with a smile on my face as the other patrons got food poisoning from drive in food. A place where I got drunk and high enough to damn near attempt to hop on a semi slow moving freight train as it passed by right behind the drive ins. A place where I busted my first heaven tag on the back of one of the screens. A place that I hold close to my heart. One of my favorite places in the world.

I’m exhausted, so I’ll leave this post with that, and the pics of my room below. I’m happy to  be home, and it shows in my recent mood…mood, singular. Life is good, never question a smile. Cheers.

myroom

myroom2

Oy Vey

I started another story…fudge. Without looking, I think I have thirteen started. I really need to learn how to finish things and not be an erratic mess of a wannabe writer.

My attention span and tendency to despise everything I work on is a real bitch that I’m having a hard time putting in check.

I know writing shouldn’t be easy—at least good writing—but should it really be this hard? Am I doing something wrong? I don’t know. It’s probably just me.

I think my unpublished drafts contain some of my best writing, but I can’t publish them; likely because it’s too me, too raw, too revealing, which is kind of interesting since many of the people who read my posts say that they like me because I’m raw. Imagine, my current posts are raw, what can be in my drafts? Maybe you’ll find out.

Anyways, the new story is about a failed artist, who previously did anti-war, anti-conservative, generally progressive art, who jumps on the new right/alt-right wave and becomes famous, but feels fake(they are) and dirty for going against their morals for fame and money. I’m not a very good synopsis writer, but you get the gist. Maybe I’ll post the first few paragraphs today.