Fresh, Hot Wastes of Time

I blogged about the Stardust Hotel implosion a few months ago. Thinking back on it, it’s amazing what Las Vegas can get away with. To implode a building with fireworks and spotlights would be completely unheard of anywhere but there. It’s a completely unique American city, full of glitz and neon and sequins and money. And its character is slowly – or maybe not-so-slowly – changing from the hip, cool Rat Pack and Elvis getaway to a “family” vacation destination. What does that mean, in terms of American society? Why is Sin City now being pushed as a place to take the kids over Spring Break? Would parents of the 1950s have been scandalized to think that today’s kids would meet up with free drinks, gambling, and legalized prostitution? Of course. Am I stuck in the 1950s to think that anyone who takes their children to Vegas for a family vacation at the casino is delusional? Perhaps. In general, I think we’ve seen a drift from “wholesomeness” to “anything goes,” and I’m not so sure it’s an improvement. Not that I think it would have been an improvement going the other way either, exactly. It’s a lot easier to pretend you know what the answers are if you’re not responsible for actually enacting the solutions, right?

Week before last the kids got sick, and it wasn’t long before I was, too. Because it’s the law that if anyone within 300 yards of me is sick, I’ll catch it. By now, it’s getting pretty old.

Potentially gross stuff ahead, read at your own peril.

The fever’s gone for the most part (99.6 doesn’t count, right?), but I’ve got one ear that’s partially full of fluid and another one that’s totally full. I estimate that I’ve got 25% hearing loss in one side and over 90% loss in the other. The tinnitus is fun. Sounds like my right ear is full of locusts. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Every once in a while, especially when I bend over, I get a rush of pink or brown fluid out of my nose. This is disconcerting. Sometimes, for a special touch, it happens when I’m sleeping. Better than a couple of weeks ago when I had a nosebleed in my sleep, I guess. Nothing like waking up covered in gore. I checked all the cats, dogs, and children to make sure I hadn’t savaged them in my sleep.

I’m dizzy from my ears being full of crud, my sinuses feel like I’m drowning, I’m getting near-daily migraines from the pressure, the cough is keeping me up at night, and my throat is sore.

Also, I’m whiny.

Bright side: I can sleep on my left side and nothing will wake me up, since I can’t hear crap out of the right ear. Oh, and I’ve lost 9 lbs since I got sick because I can’t bring myself to eat. Wah.

Via.

Last Wednesday I caught the edge of the doormat wrong when I was on my way out of the house to go to class. I turned my ankle 90 degrees inwards and hit the ground like a sack of clay, whoomp-splat. And decided that the log I was resting my head on while I wailed was made out of pillows, because in contrast to what was going on in my ankle, it was fluffy and soft. But I was so stubborn that I insisted on going to class anyway, and I’m sure I made a spectacle of myself, gimping around the building and moaning in pain.

Turns out I’ve got a grade 2 sprain of two ligaments, which means that they’re partially torn. How annoying. The doctor said to expect a couple of months of swelling, and all the itinerant tingling and numbness and discomfort that go along with it.

Fighting for one of the far-away parking spaces at school tomorrow should be fun.

1) I have scored not one, but two Bags of Crap in the last week. So has Hub.

2) I register for my last two semesters of college tomorrow.

3) Just a few hours after I posted my resume the other day, I got a job offer for something very big, cool, and exciting. It’s also very intense, so I may be updating here even less frequently than normal, if that’s possible. Be happy for me, because I am.

Lester Burnham: [narrating] I had always heard your entire life flashes in front of your eyes the second before you die. First of all, that one second isn’t a second at all, it stretches on forever, like an ocean of time… For me, it was lying on my back at Boy Scout camp, watching falling stars… And yellow leaves, from the maple trees, that lined my street… Or my grandmother’s hands, and the way her skin seemed like paper… And the first time I saw my cousin Tony’s brand new Firebird… And Janie… And Janie… And… Carolyn. I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me… but it’s hard to stay mad, when there’s so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I’m seeing it all at once, and it’s too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst… And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can’t feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life… You have no idea what I’m talking about, I’m sure. But don’t worry… you will someday.

I hear Kevin Spacey speaking those lines at the end of American Beauty and I think, “I want to write like that.” He gives no quarter; makes no concessions to people who might not be keeping up. He just lays it out there and it’s amazing.

We went to see Zodiac at the Alamo Drafthouse last night. It was long, but I thought it was a great flick. The first half deals with the murders themselves, while the second is about the subsequent investigation. Great acting by all involved, and nice period settings.

After I came home, I spent about 4 hours obsessing on the unsolved code. Robert Graysmith, portrayed in the movie by Jake Gyllenhaal, claims to have solved it, but IMO that’s a joke. Some interesting theories, discussion, and argument floating around out there, though. Enough to waste houuuuuuuuuuurs on. Which I did.

Also, I just wrote a suggestion to the Drafthouse that if they’re going to show a three hour movie, at least let people know ahead of time that last call will be 30 minutes in. Pretty parched by the end, there.

ETA: Wow, that was quick! I just got an email back from Tim League, who founded the Drafthouse. He said that the early last call is one of his pet peeves, and it’s something they’re working on. He wants to have last call be 45 minutes before the movie ends. Awesome!

ETA2: And shortly after that, I heard from the manager of the Alamo Village, offering to send me passes. Have I mentioned how much I love the Drafthouse, even if their last call is early?

Only in LV can they implode buildings with such panache. Farewell, Stardust. I’ve stayed there and played there, and it had character.