Reno. It's like Las Vegas, except dying. It's everywhere you look, yet nothing you can see. It's that paint that isn't peeling, but it looks like it's been thinking about peeling. It's the flickering neon signs, the flashing bulbs that blink just a little too bright. It's the desperate low rent signs, "Your Ad Here" on more billboards than anything else, the closing sales downtown. It's creepy. I just got back from a three day trip to Reno. Had a good time. The perfect spot for serfs like myself, who want to take advantage of casinos giving away rooms to anyone who might play a slot. We're extras on their set, props to fill them up and make them look successful. It's a desperate mood. It's a slippery bank we clamber up, acting nonchalant like we're in no danger of drowning at all.
I was doing a lot of thinking about gambling and creepy lights and the weird look these people who spend a lot of time in casinos get... and it's inspired a new idea... I don't want to reveal too much, just to say it involves clowns, creepy casinos, and a little kid named Frankie. I've learned my lesson about this stuff, and I won't post it unless I completely finish it. (For anyone still in doubt, "Stranded with a Stranger" is dead in the water. Look for new projects in a few months).
Don't have much else to say today. I don't want to go back to school.