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hmph.
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24 October 2003
what the fuck am i doing in monaco. what the fuck am i doing in monaco. what the fuck are these people doing with their money? im in the casino, the world famous casino where james bond plays, and there are crystal chandeliers and ceilings so far away and gold and red carpet. there is a buffet room, and i ask the man working there if i may eat.
-no, no. is invitation only
-how do i get an invitation?
-the management would ask you, if they wanted
-who do they ask...just those people that are doing really good?
-exactly
i really want to eat there. it looks really good. so i decide to try and get someone rich to use me as a good luck charm. i stand on the outside of the velvet roped roulette table, and just start staring at people with a really wise, spiritual look on my face. not surprisingly, theyre not having it. this man, short and portly and immaculately dessed, a thin line of silk handkercheif just above the pocket of his black five button suit, and awful cigar stub in his mouth. or this man, young and asian and sunglassed, hopping form table to table, throwing 1000 e chips on the table at the last possible minute, then jumping to the next table to avoid seeing the outcome. all of them have pieces of paper with indecipherable scrawls of blue and black ink, tiny circles and numbers on the eback of a thick old memo pad. and im just staring at them, and i swear they cant even tell im there, theyre so rich. i feel happy that i am unimpressed by there shoes, on the whole.
i move to another table where they are playing a game i dont understand at all, and the movements are a beautiful dance of subtlety. there are four blue jacketed men running each table- south runs the chips, west the cards (or wheel), east the bank, and north watches over all in a chair thats raised four feet off the ground. north is by far my favorite. at one point he stares at me and i stare back and he keeps staring, hes staring right at me while this game is going on under his nose, and i stare back, oh im not letting go of this, so we stare. this is great. and then, and finally then he does this thing, what the fuck, where he slowly smoothes his tie...smooth, smooth, smooth, neck to groin. and when he is finished he looks back at me and raises an eyebrow.
that was enough for me.
-no, no. is invitation only
-how do i get an invitation?
-the management would ask you, if they wanted
-who do they ask...just those people that are doing really good?
-exactly
i really want to eat there. it looks really good. so i decide to try and get someone rich to use me as a good luck charm. i stand on the outside of the velvet roped roulette table, and just start staring at people with a really wise, spiritual look on my face. not surprisingly, theyre not having it. this man, short and portly and immaculately dessed, a thin line of silk handkercheif just above the pocket of his black five button suit, and awful cigar stub in his mouth. or this man, young and asian and sunglassed, hopping form table to table, throwing 1000 e chips on the table at the last possible minute, then jumping to the next table to avoid seeing the outcome. all of them have pieces of paper with indecipherable scrawls of blue and black ink, tiny circles and numbers on the eback of a thick old memo pad. and im just staring at them, and i swear they cant even tell im there, theyre so rich. i feel happy that i am unimpressed by there shoes, on the whole.
i move to another table where they are playing a game i dont understand at all, and the movements are a beautiful dance of subtlety. there are four blue jacketed men running each table- south runs the chips, west the cards (or wheel), east the bank, and north watches over all in a chair thats raised four feet off the ground. north is by far my favorite. at one point he stares at me and i stare back and he keeps staring, hes staring right at me while this game is going on under his nose, and i stare back, oh im not letting go of this, so we stare. this is great. and then, and finally then he does this thing, what the fuck, where he slowly smoothes his tie...smooth, smooth, smooth, neck to groin. and when he is finished he looks back at me and raises an eyebrow.
that was enough for me.