The Sun Sets On Vegas.


I don't remember where we were, but I remember talking. It was one of those conversations you don't forget. It made me think differently about things. But I don't like thinking. It hurts my head.
...
The sun sets on Vegas. My stomach feels like shit. Ironic, I guess. I took a nap for almost an hour. After I woke up, I layed (laid) on the bed for another 30 minutes. Just thinking. No lights, no sound. But the thinking finally made me nervous and depressed. I'm in a hotel room. A woman in the room next door is talking on the phone, wishing somebody a "Happy Valentine's Day." I can hear this as I lay on the bed with two pillows stacked behind my head. During the climax of the conversation, she says something heartless. "I love you." I'm not convinced. But then again, I'm not convinced of a lot of things. From the tone of her voice, it sounds like she's from Los Angeles. I'm not all that fond of L.A. I couldn't really tell you why. Just not my type of town, I guess. My mind begins to wander to the half-empty pack of Parliaments that are sitting in the nightstand next to the Bible. Just two nights ago, I asked a friend why hotels always have Bibles in the drawers of their rooms. He gave me a theory, but I've already forgotten. After my 30 minutes of silent contemplation on the bed, I stood up and walked over to the window and opened the curtains a bit. Our view is pretty cool. It overlooks the pool and back patio of the resort. Think palm trees. Many of them. In the distance is the Las Vegas Strip. The sun sets behind it, but it's not quite there. It's 5:42 p.m. The lights are almost out.
...
Armenia is a place for cigarette billboards, beautiful women and suspicious men smoking smokes. It's a place for me to walk around lonely, trying to blend in. Yerevan is not home, which is a good thing. It's a city that takes your mind off working, and deadlines. In this world, concert venues with $25 million additions and fake rap shows don't exist. In a way, Yerevan is pure. It's a place that doesn't allow time for pain. You do what you do, and you don't look back. These people are interesting. Their lives seem meaningful and sound. Yes, I'm sure they have their worries, but not like people in the U.S. They all look the same. And I say that in a good way. The dress is similar and so are their appearances. I like it. The cigarettes don't smell stale. The air isn't as fresh as I thought it would be. Death metal is a sweet sound. The words on the buildings remind me of church. Museums are great.
...
Damn, I burned the popcorn again. There goes another night of sleeping well.
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Here's one more: "Fuck you all, I haven't had a good night's sleep in a long, long time. If you cared, you'd turn my way but you're fuckin' gone." A lyric from Jaded's "Gone." Could be heard during late Sunday afternoons on the sidewalks of Sanger, Calif., circa '97 and beyond.