I've figured out how to write my main character in my somewhat art-driven novel, why he's so devoted to his art, what he hopes to continue to accomplish by it. I'm not sure yet why he's going to do what's presented to him, but I'll map it out soon. When I'm not working on this novel or my other books, I'm still keeping myself limber by writing DVD reviews, and I see that I haven't posted links to new DVD reviews since April 29. There have been a lot since Car 54, Where Are You?: The Complete Second Season. Out of this new batch, I'm most proud of my review of Raw Faith. 95 Miles to Go comes in second:
Carlos Mencia: New Territory
The Big C: The Complete Second Season
Tom and Jerry: Around the World
Raw Faith
Happiness Is... Peanuts: Team Snoopy
Young Goethe in Love
95 Miles to Go
Hazel: The Complete Third Season
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Barney Vinson's Got It
I'm nearing the end of The Vegas Kid by Barney Vinson, and though the plot doesn't move much (I'm sure there's a climax coming along soon, though), Vinson mirrors the atmosphere of Las Vegas perfectly, especially this line at the beginning of chapter 17 on page 137:
"Sam was happy, though. He didn't mind being Sammy Duran or dealing crap at Blackie's. In fact, he liked living in the desert and being himself for a change instead of some chrome-plated cowboy."
Exactly. Las Vegas is all about being yourself, doing what you want to do, tapping into your deepest passions and bring them swiftly to the surface. I'm going to dive into so much after we move there, inside and outside of Southern Nevada.
I also love Vinson's "About the Author" paragraph on the very last page:
Barney Vinson was born in the U.S.A., raised in Texas, and moved to Las Vegas a long time ago. He worked as a dice dealer at the old Dunes Hotel, then went to Caesars Palace where he was the casino gaming instructor for another long time. He lives in a small house by the side of the road with the Vegas skyline in the distance and writes full-time, while his wife Debbie works and pays the bills; they take in stray cats by appointment only. Vinson is the author of 23 books (six of which have been published). The Vegas Kid is his first novel.
I want to be Barney Vinson, but not working in any casinos. I want to earn enough money to write often, and I want to live as he writes. He and I have the same sense of humor.
"Sam was happy, though. He didn't mind being Sammy Duran or dealing crap at Blackie's. In fact, he liked living in the desert and being himself for a change instead of some chrome-plated cowboy."
Exactly. Las Vegas is all about being yourself, doing what you want to do, tapping into your deepest passions and bring them swiftly to the surface. I'm going to dive into so much after we move there, inside and outside of Southern Nevada.
I also love Vinson's "About the Author" paragraph on the very last page:
Barney Vinson was born in the U.S.A., raised in Texas, and moved to Las Vegas a long time ago. He worked as a dice dealer at the old Dunes Hotel, then went to Caesars Palace where he was the casino gaming instructor for another long time. He lives in a small house by the side of the road with the Vegas skyline in the distance and writes full-time, while his wife Debbie works and pays the bills; they take in stray cats by appointment only. Vinson is the author of 23 books (six of which have been published). The Vegas Kid is his first novel.
I want to be Barney Vinson, but not working in any casinos. I want to earn enough money to write often, and I want to live as he writes. He and I have the same sense of humor.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
One of My All-Time Favorite Lines about Las Vegas
As I read more and more about Las Vegas, I'm sure other all-time favorite lines will emerge, but it'll take a lot to top this one, from Las Vegas: Behind the Tables! Part 2 by Barney Vinson, when he's arrived at the Sands for the 35th Anniversary Celebration:
"I went through the door of the Sands and caught the blast of a thousand slot machines having dinner."
"I went through the door of the Sands and caught the blast of a thousand slot machines having dinner."
Wisdom from Benny Binion
In my attempt to shrink my Las Vegas book stack ahead of a transition to the Clark County libraries once I become a resident of Las Vegas, I just finished reading Las Vegas: Behind the Tables! Part 2 by Barney Vinson, one of the few truly great Las Vegas writers, since he worked in casinos there for well over 20 years and lived so many of the massive changes, and knows it so well. I've begun reading his novel, The Vegas Kid, and though Sam Durango is still in Los Angeles, I know that Vinson will get the feel of 1970s Las Vegas right.
Toward the end of Las Vegas: Behind the Tables! Part 2, he interviews Benny Binion, the giant of downtown Las Vegas, with a story that could very well have become a TV show if CBS' new series about legendary Las Vegas sheriff Ralph Lamb hadn't worked out. His Binion's Horseshoe Hotel and Casino, at least in his time, believed in treating the gambler with respect. However much money they walked in with was how much they could play. There was no limit, unlike the Strip casinos. I'm not sure yet if it's the same way today, but I agree with Binion's wisdom, which is actually his modus operandi:
I asked him to describe the Horseshoe Club in his own words, and he took his time answering.
"Well, it's got to be a friendly place. Treat people with courtesy, feed 'em good. Cheap. Good whiskey cheap. And give 'em a good gamble. That's all there is to it, son."
All of it applies to living life as well.
Then a Binion saying that is valid no matter who you are:
It was a wild and wooly time in the nation's existence. Prohibition was starting, a Depression was coming. Like Binion himself was fond of saying, though: "Tough times make tough people."
Amen, Mr. Binion.
Toward the end of Las Vegas: Behind the Tables! Part 2, he interviews Benny Binion, the giant of downtown Las Vegas, with a story that could very well have become a TV show if CBS' new series about legendary Las Vegas sheriff Ralph Lamb hadn't worked out. His Binion's Horseshoe Hotel and Casino, at least in his time, believed in treating the gambler with respect. However much money they walked in with was how much they could play. There was no limit, unlike the Strip casinos. I'm not sure yet if it's the same way today, but I agree with Binion's wisdom, which is actually his modus operandi:
I asked him to describe the Horseshoe Club in his own words, and he took his time answering.
"Well, it's got to be a friendly place. Treat people with courtesy, feed 'em good. Cheap. Good whiskey cheap. And give 'em a good gamble. That's all there is to it, son."
All of it applies to living life as well.
Then a Binion saying that is valid no matter who you are:
It was a wild and wooly time in the nation's existence. Prohibition was starting, a Depression was coming. Like Binion himself was fond of saying, though: "Tough times make tough people."
Amen, Mr. Binion.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
My Childhood and Adulthood as Hosted by Marc Summers
Part of my childhood involved hours and hours of Nickelodeon: Double Dare, hosted by Marc Summers. Family Double Dare, hosted by Marc Summers. Super Sloppy Double Dare, hosted by Marc Summers. What Would You Do?, hosted by Marc Summers. Make the Grade, hosted by Lew Schneider for a year, and then Robb Edward Morris for the final year. Legends of the Hidden Temple, hosted by Kirk Fogg. Figure It Out, hosted by Summer Sanders. Nickelodeon Guts, hosted by Mike O'Malley. And on PBS, there was Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego?, hosted by Greg Lee, with a formidable force in Lynne Thigpen as the Chief.
They were all good hosts, enthusiastic, into the game, and Kirk Fogg was always game in swinging onto the set, but none of them could outmatch Marc Summers. He was having just as much fun as the kids, the families, and others in both Double Dare and What Would You Do? His sincerity was genuine, not staged for the benefit of filling time. When he asked questions about the families on Family Double Dare, he truly wanted to know. He thrives on people, while also making himself distinct.
I thought about this early this morning after watching an episode of How It's Made, Tivo'd from the Science Channel, and had a yen to watch Unwrapped on Food Network again. The same concept as How It's Made, but with food and drink. And there's Marc Summers again, with that same enthusiasm. It hasn't wavered all these years. He also appears as a correspondent on The Chew on ABC and insight into types of food is made more interesting because he's interested. I sometimes wish that he would host America's Funniest Home Videos, because Tom Bergeron strikes me as phony sometimes. However, Summers is best where he is with Unwrapped, The Next Food Network Star, and those occasional segments on The Chew. He's doing the same good in my adulthood that he did in my childhood.
They were all good hosts, enthusiastic, into the game, and Kirk Fogg was always game in swinging onto the set, but none of them could outmatch Marc Summers. He was having just as much fun as the kids, the families, and others in both Double Dare and What Would You Do? His sincerity was genuine, not staged for the benefit of filling time. When he asked questions about the families on Family Double Dare, he truly wanted to know. He thrives on people, while also making himself distinct.
I thought about this early this morning after watching an episode of How It's Made, Tivo'd from the Science Channel, and had a yen to watch Unwrapped on Food Network again. The same concept as How It's Made, but with food and drink. And there's Marc Summers again, with that same enthusiasm. It hasn't wavered all these years. He also appears as a correspondent on The Chew on ABC and insight into types of food is made more interesting because he's interested. I sometimes wish that he would host America's Funniest Home Videos, because Tom Bergeron strikes me as phony sometimes. However, Summers is best where he is with Unwrapped, The Next Food Network Star, and those occasional segments on The Chew. He's doing the same good in my adulthood that he did in my childhood.
Monday, May 14, 2012
History Sailing Lazily in Palmdale
Mother's Day. Standing in front of the hand dryer in the restroom at McDonald's, hitting the button once more to get my hands fully dry. Riffling through DVDs at Office Depot, happily finding that Rodrigo Garcia's Mother and Child still matters enough to be sold, even at Office Depot. At an outdoor table at Sonic, quickly retrieving fluttering napkins under the spell of wind, Palmdale's chief import. Finding Crispix on the top shelf of the cereal aisle in Walmart, across from Sonic.
I felt it in all those places. In that McDonald's restroom, someone was there before me. Not immediately before, or 20 minutes before, but further back. Way further back. I felt it on the road to Palmdale and past patches of desert on the way to Petco, and then PetSmart, and then Office Depot, then Sonic, then Walmart. The farther you get from the frenetic nature of Los Angeles and the willful historical amnesia of that part of the region, the more room there is for land to breathe, there's a bigger sense of history. I'm still trying to believe that people in Baker are living there by choice, but it's easy to believe that people in Palmdale are. I imagine them as descendants of prospects, settlers, people comfortable with living in such a barren setting, who could make their lives out of the wide swaths of dirt and bleached-out ground. The little grass that's there has to have been there long before anyone even thought of establishing Palmdale.
History doesn't press upon Palmdale like it does in Buena Park. It has a lighter touch, like it does in Anaheim, but it's more of a hands-off approach. It sails lazily in the sky like crows circling and circling above the Walmart parking lot. They have wind turbines in that lot to provide power in the store so that not as much electrical power has to be used. And I wonder about the process of that, who decided on it, what meetings were held, how long the construction took. But then I look across the street from where I'm sitting at Sonic, and I wonder what had been there before that shopping center.
The difference between Buena Park and Palmdale is that there's not as much a need to know the history of Palmdale because the history is always there somewhere. It's right out in the open; you don't have to explore as much. It's quick, whereas the history of Buena Park takes time to know. That's not to say that Palmdale's history is shallow, but you can know it right away, the settlements that were there, the artifacts that possibly remain.
Walking into PetSmart, I said to Mom about being in Palmdale, "Consider it a dry run for parts of Las Vegas." Some areas are as wide-ranging as Palmdale, with that much desert showing. Even with how dense the Strip is with people and hotels and shops and restaurants, you go around the back and there's the desert, going further and further the other way. That history is always available, and there are so many resources to tap to find it. It doesn't feel like Palmdale has quite the same resources, but surely they've collected their history somewhere, and keep it close because what came before cannot be forgotten, otherwise that section of the desert has nothing.
Because it's not near Los Angeles and therefore doesn't have the same "Forward! Always forward!" attitude, there is time for reflection in Palmdale. History will always have room. I don't think I could ever thrive there, but it's nice to know that history is alive in another part of Southern California. I just hope it remains.
I felt it in all those places. In that McDonald's restroom, someone was there before me. Not immediately before, or 20 minutes before, but further back. Way further back. I felt it on the road to Palmdale and past patches of desert on the way to Petco, and then PetSmart, and then Office Depot, then Sonic, then Walmart. The farther you get from the frenetic nature of Los Angeles and the willful historical amnesia of that part of the region, the more room there is for land to breathe, there's a bigger sense of history. I'm still trying to believe that people in Baker are living there by choice, but it's easy to believe that people in Palmdale are. I imagine them as descendants of prospects, settlers, people comfortable with living in such a barren setting, who could make their lives out of the wide swaths of dirt and bleached-out ground. The little grass that's there has to have been there long before anyone even thought of establishing Palmdale.
History doesn't press upon Palmdale like it does in Buena Park. It has a lighter touch, like it does in Anaheim, but it's more of a hands-off approach. It sails lazily in the sky like crows circling and circling above the Walmart parking lot. They have wind turbines in that lot to provide power in the store so that not as much electrical power has to be used. And I wonder about the process of that, who decided on it, what meetings were held, how long the construction took. But then I look across the street from where I'm sitting at Sonic, and I wonder what had been there before that shopping center.
The difference between Buena Park and Palmdale is that there's not as much a need to know the history of Palmdale because the history is always there somewhere. It's right out in the open; you don't have to explore as much. It's quick, whereas the history of Buena Park takes time to know. That's not to say that Palmdale's history is shallow, but you can know it right away, the settlements that were there, the artifacts that possibly remain.
Walking into PetSmart, I said to Mom about being in Palmdale, "Consider it a dry run for parts of Las Vegas." Some areas are as wide-ranging as Palmdale, with that much desert showing. Even with how dense the Strip is with people and hotels and shops and restaurants, you go around the back and there's the desert, going further and further the other way. That history is always available, and there are so many resources to tap to find it. It doesn't feel like Palmdale has quite the same resources, but surely they've collected their history somewhere, and keep it close because what came before cannot be forgotten, otherwise that section of the desert has nothing.
Because it's not near Los Angeles and therefore doesn't have the same "Forward! Always forward!" attitude, there is time for reflection in Palmdale. History will always have room. I don't think I could ever thrive there, but it's nice to know that history is alive in another part of Southern California. I just hope it remains.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Which Las Vegas Do I Want First?
I'm not overwhelmed by what's to come. I'm curious. I'm fascinated. All this will belong to me. What do I want to do first?
First, settling in. Then a car. Then a job. Then a library card and total exploration. I'll have the rest of my life to do what I want in Las Vegas, Henderson, Boulder City, Summerlin, and everywhere else in Nevada, all those roads to see, those mountains (mountains to not have to live in like I do here), and all that nature scenery. Plus I want to see my favorite view again, from that rock ledge near the Hacienda Hotel and Casino on the way to Hoover Dam, looking out at that ocean of desert.
The one thing I'm getting used to before we move over there is that nothing there is as split up as it is here, and as it was in Florida. Four hours to Walt Disney World from South Florida, which is understandable because that's where Walt Disney wanted it. To get to the Main library branch of the Broward County Library system, 25 minutes to downtown Fort Lauderdale, traffic or no traffic. Not so bad, but still time to take to get there. Different scenery was always welcome, but there was never a great connection because of that distance. I felt closer to the small gas station next to the entrance to Grand Palms Golf & Country Club in Pembroke Pines (where, after you pass through the security barrier lifted by a press of a button from the guardhouse, there's houses on both sides, and we had to drive two miles on the property to get to the Las Verdes condos, where we lived), but that was also because they made the best Cafe Cubano anywhere in South Florida. Even though I don't have caffeine anymore, I miss that.
I'm getting used to so much being available to me so closely in Las Vegas and Henderson and Summerlin and Boulder City. There's still a drive time to get anywhere, but it's not as disconnected, definitely not like driving freeways to get to Burbank, Pasadena, Beverly Hills, and Los Angeles from Santa Clarita. Getting to Ventura takes time too, and you never feel like a resident of California (not that I ever have anyway), just a tourist wherever you go. Depending on where we move to, I love possibly being able to drive to the Pinball Hall of Fame and come back to our residence and I feel as close to that as I did to that gas station. I may not see it all the time because of there being so much to do (although I would like to visit the Pinball Hall of Fame often; I think they also have Galaga), but it's there for me whenever I want it. It's always available and always welcoming. That's most important to me. If I go to the Cosmpolitan to see that art vending machine I've heard about (It looks like one of those old cigarette machines. You put $5 in, pull one of the handles, and someone's artwork comes out. It's a small piece, but still creative), there it is for me to look at. If I go to Caesars Palace to enjoy that wide open space on the casino floor, I can walk around as much as I want. I want to eventually find a slot machine that I can pinpoint as my favorite (I don't gamble anyway; I use them as a kind of meditation. A dollar in the machine and one line played every time, I just sit there and think about my life, about what I want to do, about what I've done, about what I want to write, etc.), and I know that every slot machine is open to me doing that. My dad's favorite is a video slot machine called Cops and Doughnuts, which is funny, but it's not my kind of machine. Nor are the ones that use "Q," "A," "K," "J," and "10" on its reels and aren't poker machines. There are so many of those with so many different themes, and it was disheartening to find that 80% of those at Fiesta Henderson were exactly that.
I can have all of Las Vegas, Henderson, Boulder City, and Summerlin. That's most important to me. Living here in Saugus, there's not as much access to the Valencia Town Center Mall as there was when we lived in one of the two apartment complexes behind the Pavilions and HomeGoods shopping center. Not that it's a mall worth going to now after Waldenbooks closed years ago and then Borders closed recently (though I've always liked Barnes & Noble better, but I'll take a bookstore here where I can get it), but at least it was there. In Las Vegas, malls will be there, casinos will be there, unique shops will be there, all those lights will be there, and I can have them whenever I want. If we move to Henderson, I can still have them. If we do move to Las Vegas, I can have them closer. I don't have to have them all the time if I don't want to, but the option is always there. Considering that I want to explore every inch of Southern Nevada, I'll want them all the time.
And after I'm settled in enough, I want to start planning my travels to New Mexico and all the presidential libraries in the nation, save for Nixon's and Reagan's. Already done, and I don't ever want to go back to Southern California. I won't have enough money right away to go, plus I want to establish my hoped-for career as a middle school campus supervisor first. I'm giving myself a year and a half to two years after we get there because there's so much in Southern Nevada that'll occupy me, and that sounds like enough time to squirrel away some money while also contributing to our household. But when I feel I have enough for whichever library will come first, I'll be ready. I'm very happy that I'll have a home base to come back to, one that I can actually call "home." I want my roots to be in the desert. We moved around Florida so much that I never could put my roots anywhere. Now it's time. I can split Southern Nevada into manageable chunks as necessary for what I want to visit, but I want all of it and I can have all of it. It's what I've always wanted, and I'm ready.
First, settling in. Then a car. Then a job. Then a library card and total exploration. I'll have the rest of my life to do what I want in Las Vegas, Henderson, Boulder City, Summerlin, and everywhere else in Nevada, all those roads to see, those mountains (mountains to not have to live in like I do here), and all that nature scenery. Plus I want to see my favorite view again, from that rock ledge near the Hacienda Hotel and Casino on the way to Hoover Dam, looking out at that ocean of desert.
The one thing I'm getting used to before we move over there is that nothing there is as split up as it is here, and as it was in Florida. Four hours to Walt Disney World from South Florida, which is understandable because that's where Walt Disney wanted it. To get to the Main library branch of the Broward County Library system, 25 minutes to downtown Fort Lauderdale, traffic or no traffic. Not so bad, but still time to take to get there. Different scenery was always welcome, but there was never a great connection because of that distance. I felt closer to the small gas station next to the entrance to Grand Palms Golf & Country Club in Pembroke Pines (where, after you pass through the security barrier lifted by a press of a button from the guardhouse, there's houses on both sides, and we had to drive two miles on the property to get to the Las Verdes condos, where we lived), but that was also because they made the best Cafe Cubano anywhere in South Florida. Even though I don't have caffeine anymore, I miss that.
I'm getting used to so much being available to me so closely in Las Vegas and Henderson and Summerlin and Boulder City. There's still a drive time to get anywhere, but it's not as disconnected, definitely not like driving freeways to get to Burbank, Pasadena, Beverly Hills, and Los Angeles from Santa Clarita. Getting to Ventura takes time too, and you never feel like a resident of California (not that I ever have anyway), just a tourist wherever you go. Depending on where we move to, I love possibly being able to drive to the Pinball Hall of Fame and come back to our residence and I feel as close to that as I did to that gas station. I may not see it all the time because of there being so much to do (although I would like to visit the Pinball Hall of Fame often; I think they also have Galaga), but it's there for me whenever I want it. It's always available and always welcoming. That's most important to me. If I go to the Cosmpolitan to see that art vending machine I've heard about (It looks like one of those old cigarette machines. You put $5 in, pull one of the handles, and someone's artwork comes out. It's a small piece, but still creative), there it is for me to look at. If I go to Caesars Palace to enjoy that wide open space on the casino floor, I can walk around as much as I want. I want to eventually find a slot machine that I can pinpoint as my favorite (I don't gamble anyway; I use them as a kind of meditation. A dollar in the machine and one line played every time, I just sit there and think about my life, about what I want to do, about what I've done, about what I want to write, etc.), and I know that every slot machine is open to me doing that. My dad's favorite is a video slot machine called Cops and Doughnuts, which is funny, but it's not my kind of machine. Nor are the ones that use "Q," "A," "K," "J," and "10" on its reels and aren't poker machines. There are so many of those with so many different themes, and it was disheartening to find that 80% of those at Fiesta Henderson were exactly that.
I can have all of Las Vegas, Henderson, Boulder City, and Summerlin. That's most important to me. Living here in Saugus, there's not as much access to the Valencia Town Center Mall as there was when we lived in one of the two apartment complexes behind the Pavilions and HomeGoods shopping center. Not that it's a mall worth going to now after Waldenbooks closed years ago and then Borders closed recently (though I've always liked Barnes & Noble better, but I'll take a bookstore here where I can get it), but at least it was there. In Las Vegas, malls will be there, casinos will be there, unique shops will be there, all those lights will be there, and I can have them whenever I want. If we move to Henderson, I can still have them. If we do move to Las Vegas, I can have them closer. I don't have to have them all the time if I don't want to, but the option is always there. Considering that I want to explore every inch of Southern Nevada, I'll want them all the time.
And after I'm settled in enough, I want to start planning my travels to New Mexico and all the presidential libraries in the nation, save for Nixon's and Reagan's. Already done, and I don't ever want to go back to Southern California. I won't have enough money right away to go, plus I want to establish my hoped-for career as a middle school campus supervisor first. I'm giving myself a year and a half to two years after we get there because there's so much in Southern Nevada that'll occupy me, and that sounds like enough time to squirrel away some money while also contributing to our household. But when I feel I have enough for whichever library will come first, I'll be ready. I'm very happy that I'll have a home base to come back to, one that I can actually call "home." I want my roots to be in the desert. We moved around Florida so much that I never could put my roots anywhere. Now it's time. I can split Southern Nevada into manageable chunks as necessary for what I want to visit, but I want all of it and I can have all of it. It's what I've always wanted, and I'm ready.
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