last night of temptation in the city of sin

It’s fucking great to break this up or not put the entire exchange in:

“Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years later? Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era—the kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run . . . but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant. . . .

History is hard to know, because of all the hired bullshit, but even without being sure of “history” it seems entirely reasonable to think that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the time—and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened.

My central memory of that time seems to hang on one or five or maybe forty nights—or very early mornings—when I left the Fillmore half-crazy and, instead of going home, aimed the big 650 Lightning across the Bay Bridge at a hundred miles an hour wearing L. L. Bean shorts and a Butte sheepherder's jacket . . . booming through the Treasure Island tunnel at the lights of Oakland and Berkeley and Richmond, not quite sure which turn-off to take when I got to the other end (always stalling at the toll-gate, too twisted to find neutral while I fumbled for change) . . . but being absolutely certain that no matter which way I went I would come to a place where people were just as high and wild as I was: No doubt at all about that. . . .

There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . .

And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting—on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . .

So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark—that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back”

-          Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

 

 

Bad vibes on this night in Vegas, you are staring out onto the strip, knowing you belong at the City Bar, but you know if you go there is only trouble.  There is no salvation down there.  There is only booze and broken promises, and the ever looming binge.  That is the amazing thing about someone like me, I can binge on anything.  That is what sort of whore I am.  I can binge on cigarettes, booze, and most often food. I am staring at the guess directory right now wanting to order the caramel drizzled cheese cake, or the chocolate cake ala mode, with a side of French fries and maybe a pizza for an appetizer.  My only salvation isn’t escaping as I have to the room, no, not at all.  My salvation will be if I can maintain through this night, this one last night in this god forsaken city that never sleeps. 

Most places in the world the cut room service off at certain point.  Not in this one.  Any time I want I can roll out of bed pull my shorts on and order a plethora of goodies.  Don’t ask me why I wake up at odd hours of the night.  I do though.  After all I am weak in the mind and undisciplined.  I have not motivation or gumption.  Or perhaps I have this unnatural, unhealthy, need to destroy everything I have worked so hard to build. 

I think I have proved a lot on this trip that I have changed.  I have changed a lot.  Being here typing is a proof that.  I don’t want to be here. I want to be at the bar.  I want to have a camel and a Coors and hold court just like I did last year.  I want to keep partying with my boy Murch.  It was good.  He is good people.  However, I know myself and I know once I go down the path, there is little to no coming back.

I have been texting with RG and Jill all night.  You see things that upset you and everyone around you feels the air sucked out of you.  You are amazed to see your heart can still hurt, that there was anything left to hurt. So, I am wondering how in the fuck I am going to maintain.  They speak sense to me.  I am on the path.  No one can hurt me unless I let them.  I must continue to push and move forward.  These are good friends.  People there when you are on the verge of breaking oaths and promises that put you back on the path. 

You stare out the window as you pull the ponytail holder out of your hair. You almost wonder what the chairman of the board must have thought when he saw his former revenue manger rolling hair pulled back.  Does he care?  Do I?  The truth is I don’t.  Not anymore.  It has been a long time since I have.

Your friends are back.  There back and sitting on the edge of your eyes.  You fill the welling up.  You want them to fall.  They won’t.  They never do. 

Fat, drunk, and Ka Mai is no way to go through life.  You had hoped that things would change.  However, you see that they never will unless you change them.  They can’t unless you make the effort for them to change.  They can’t unless you are willing to move on.

Isn’t that what this all comes down to? People moving on or not?  It’s really that simple go or do not go.  Do you know in its bases meaning that Ka literally mean to go. 

So now here we are and it comes down to it.  Do I go?  Do I really go?  And once I go, do I know that means that I can never go back.  That is terrifying to me. It is a complete game changer.  It is the watershed moment and everyone around you is waiting seeing if you are going to rise.

It doesn’t really matter.  You make your plan.  I will talk to Sue on Thursday.  I will write, because in the end that is all we have is our writing.  I will go to bed wondering what the cheese cake and chocolate cake taste like, but I won’t have it.

Not over this.  Not over something I can’t control.  Not over … well, it doesn’t matter.  What really matter is I choose this time it will be different.  The cards are down.   The game is over.  I am in control of my life.  I get to make the decision.  I get to be in my life every day for the rest of my life.  Not everyone will have that opportunity.  Sometimes, you just have to say fuck you.  I am done.  You pack up and you go. 

This too shall pass.  You sit and stare into the Vegas night and you know you are still winning.  Ka Mai or not, you are taking control. 

This is my life, and it is not what it was before.  This is my life and I am proud of living it.  This is my life and it’s a good life.  I am a very talent man.  I have a gift for writing feelings.  I am feeling lost right now, but whatever. It is what it is. 

Now is the time of the Black Reaper!  Now is the time to RISE, so that we can stand and be true.

Now is the time we catch a glimpse of something out there far in the distance. A lone black silhouette reaching into the sky and you know this….

 

The Tower is Closer!