Living in Las Vegas

After a year of traveling around Indian casinos in the Southwest, I finally landed in Las Vegas a few months ago. My poker blog has been neglected, and placed on Hold, for months. But now I'm getting back to it. On a regular basis now I'll be posting my thoughts about the game and maybe share some stories of the people I meet.

For me, poker is more than a card game. It's a social experience, a composite of the lives of those who sit down and share their time. Each game is a painting, a work of art, with various colors and schemes evolving over time from the individuals who at that time are contributing to the tapestry of play.

I have few passions in my life: art, writing, photography, and studying people. What better place to study people than at a poker table? I do feel at home in a poker room.

I'm not here to teach poker. I'm here to share the world of poker playing, a game that is a part of the American experience. Thousands of web sites will teach the game. This blog is my experience, my life, my contribution to the game that has become a passion for millions of players around the world.

Las Vegas Area Writers

My search for a local writer's group in Las Vegas has turned up very little so far. From Google all I can find are these three groups:

• The Las Vegas Writers Group. www.meetup.com/Las-Vegas-Writers
• The Henderson Writers Group. http://www.hwg.mergentsquared.com/
• The Writer's Pen & Grill. http://www.penandgrill.com/

The Pen and Grill is really more of a social gathering. According to its website, "The Writer’s Pen & Grill is designed to get writers away from their computers—at least once a month. Come hang out, socialize, and...yes…have a cocktail."

My plan is to attend the meeting of the Las Vegas Writers Group in November and eventually the Henderson Writers Group. I'm also checking with UNLV to see what's available. I'm looking for some local contacts and a regular meeting with other writers. A Las Vegas Writer's Conference is also in the works.

I'm surprised I didn't find more here, but I'll keep looking.

Do Not Sit on Banister

I looked at the sign taped to the wall in the Theater at the Clark County Library yesterday and knew it was going to be a long day: "Do Not Sit on Banister." These signs dotted the arena-style theater where I was attending a conference hosted by the library for writers and published authors. I figured the warning sign was appropriate. It was another way of reminding me to be careful, like a voice speaking softly in the back of my head saying, "Don't take any unnecessary risk."

My life for the last two years, however, has been all about taking risk. But that's another story for another time.

The Clark County Library on East Flamingo is a large complex going under an expansion, thus I noticed black plastic sheeting, tools, construction equipment, and dust on my walk to the theater. When I entered the auditorium I encountered the first of many "Do Not Sit on Banister" signs. Thanks for the warning. I found my seat quickly, positioned left center of the podium at stage front.

In the middle of the two-story arena was the semi-circular stage, dark curtains pulled and pleated. Two items were there: a table with six water bottles lined up like toy soldiers and an old-style oak podium with a microphone. I was reminded of college days in East Texas and for a moment I was back in school waiting for an afternoon production of "On the Waterfront" to begin. Then Frank Sinatra's voice echoed throughout the theater jolting me back into reality--I'm two miles from the Las Vegas strip--about as far from a rural East Texas college town as one can get.

An estimated 300 persons attended the conference hosted by Carolyn Hayes Uber of Stephens Press. Among her first comments when taking the stage were to admire the large crowd and say how proud she was of the "literary scene in Las Vegas." Las Vegas is not readily admired for it's artists and literary talents, unless you consider Penn and Teller creative geniuses and Carrot Top a bookworm. The crowd this day was a mixture of men and women, almost evenly numbered. (I was surprised. Most writing conferences I've attended are dominated by women...not a bad thing since I'm single.)

Ms. Uber spoke of the publishing industry in session one. Then author Maralys Wills spoke in session two about preparing manuscripts for publication. She offered "Ten Ways to Upgrade Your Manuscript". Session three featured an editor. But I left after session two. My back was getting tired. Perhaps sitting on the banister would have been more comfortable.

_________________________________________

Things I Learned at the Writer's Conference

1. 400,000 individual book titles were published last year.
2. Only 10 of those 400,000 book titles sold more than a million copies. Most of the books sold less than 100 copies.
3. You won't get rich writing books.
4. 70 percent of all books published will not make enough money to pay for the author's advance.
5. 10 percent of all the books sent to an agent will actually get published...1 percent will make a profit.
6. Most Americans buy books from four places: Costco, Sams Club, WalMart, and Target.
7. Rejection slips are normal and to be expected. Big Tip (from Maralys Wills): "keep improving your manuscript and keep sending it out until it's published."
8. The average royalty paid to authors: 10.7 percent of net (no longer a percentage of gross). That means the publisher must make money before the author gets paid anything beyond the advance.

Where Does the Time Go?

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Day 125 in Las Vegas

I'm trying not to waste time. I'll turn 51 next month, breaking the half-century mark and I'm skittish enough to worry about the time I have left. I want to accomplish so many things in my life but time seems to be slipping away.

I work a 9-5 job weekdays to pay bills. My passions are located in other places: the card rooms around Vegas, an art studio, my blogs. And I like to play, too. I've never been accused of being a workaholic. I'm more interested in pursuing my passions.

I have four blogs which I need to address each day: MyRoadArt, Writefinger, Novel Ideas, and SolaSendero. Writing content for these blogs takes time. Blogs are leeches of content, starving for something to eat. They are worthless without daily attention and feeding. And the blog Novel Ideas concerns a novel I'm writing. (I know...everyone wants to write a novel before they die.) Writing a novel also requires a tremendous amount of hard work. A writer must write each day. It's not a choice, but a requirement to survive much like breathing.

I love to draw and paint. I aspire to be an artist. I want to spend time in an art studio. But when do I find the time? Some of the happiest moments of my life were spent in my small studio in Carmel Valley. I need to return to the studio.

I'm serious and passionate about playing poker. I'm at home in a card room, spending time with friends and foes alike, betting on the come, laughing, crying, feeling all the emotions of a competitive sport while sitting in plush chairs surrounded by the wonderful sounds of clinking chips. At times a card room can be Heaven on Earth. It can also be Hell. I feel comfortable there.

If only there were time to all the things swirling around inside my head, the ideas born of desires and ambitions beyond my reach. I believe we can have it all, the desires of our hearts, if we apply ourselves with a ruthless determination to succeed. Saints and sinners alike have the same 24 hours to accomplish what they will.

A Morning with the Sparrows

The sparrows were out this morning, snapping at each other, some flying across the patio looking for something to eat. I join them for breakfast most weekday mornings at Starbucks. I pinch off a small piece of my bagel making sure not to include the cream cheese. (I'm not sure what cream cheese will do to the digestive system of a sparrow.) I like to flick a crumb-sized portion of an Albertson's raisin and cinnamon bagel among the birds and watch them fight each other for it.

Only the swift will win. Once a crumb-bagel hits the ground, a sparrow swoops down and grabs the morsel in its mouth and quickly takes flight to a nearby tree branch to enjoy breakfast without the company of its friends. Rude bird. Selfish twit.

I glance to my left and see the Chevron station serving breakfast gas to a covey of hungry cars. This intersection in Henderson must be one of the busiest in the Las Vegas valley. Hundreds of cars speed by my observation post on the patio located high above the scene. Workers are preparing the landscape around the station, hauling dirt and planting trees. The sparrows nearby seem to take notice. They turn their heads to glance at the workers and then just as quickly turn back towards me and look for more bagel crumbs.

To my right is the Texaco station across the street to the north. A huge American flag is waving from its pole. I see a bike rider scampering along the sidewalk, peddling fast. His backpack is heavy. Perhaps he's a student with a load of books. Steam from the street is rising in curly rhythms like clear sheets of velvet causing the bike rider to look warped and otherworldly. I swipe my forehead and collect a bead of sweat as I notice how hot it is.

A branch of the Colonial Bank is directly in front of my outpost about 200 yards away. I read the neon sign flashing above it: "Safe, Sound, Secure. You'll Like It Here." I smile at the irony of such a message appearing in a city like Las Vegas. Just beyond the sign, on the horizon in the far distance, I see the Strip with the tall Stratosphere tower reaching upward into the hazy summer sky. The famous skyline of the entertainment district on Las Vegas Blvd. is stretched out before me and I wonder about the winners and losers who are still sleeping away their deeds from the night before. Safe, sound, and secure.

This Starbucks has a fountain on the patio that's not running this morning. Perhaps it's too hot. What little breeze I feel upon my face feels like it's coming from a hair dryer. The heat surrounds me, covers me, engulfs me, and I wonder if bagels feel this way while baking. The patio is like an oven and those of us sitting out here are like loaves of bread. A business man wearing a suit has taken off his jacket revealing a starched white shirt so bright that it blinds me to look at him. Two women in shorts are having a spirited conversation and don't seem a bit worried about a potential heat stroke.

As for me and the sparrows? I'm listening to Joe Cocker on my iPod and the birds are staring at me, pleading with me with small dark eyes, to toss them more bagel crumbs. Cocker sings, "there's a time to reap/a time to sow/ for holdin' on/ for lettin' go/ sometimes doing what is right is lettin' go."

Library Hi-Tech Gear Gives Me a Hi-Tech Headache

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Day 103 in the Las Vegas Valley

I got my library card the first week I moved to Las Vegas. I was in Summerlin, and found the Las Vegas-Clark County Library District (clumsily referred to as the "LVCCLD", like some undecipherable Roman numeral). The Summerlin branch of the LVCCLD was undergoing a facelift at the time, but was a nice enough place tucked neatly inside a business center near The Trails. I had few problems finding my way around.

My trouble began when I tried to check out a few books, DVDs, and CDs. The hi-tech gear at the library check out counter gave me an old-fashioned headache. I was instructed to hold my books and other items under a scanner, then pass the stack of materials over a mechanized cabinet-gizmo that would deactivate the security tags placed in each of the items. Okay. I'm computer literate. I can do this.

As luck would have it, I missed something and set off an alarm as I was walking out. A library security guard gave me a "What's-your-problem" look and asked me to return to the check out counter. Well, she didn't really ask. She told me, "You need to return to the check out counter." I complied.

In the old days you carried your books to the check out counter and the librarian would stamp a few cards and off you would go. No hassle. No big deal. Just a stamp and go. But now I'm required to maneuver my way through computerized equipment scanners and high-beam security sensors in order to check out the latest bestseller. Give me a break.

After moving to Henderson I found the nearest branch of the LVCCLD on Shelbourne, just off South Las Vegas Blvd. I wanted to check out two books, six CDs, and three DVDs. I went to the check out computer consoles and encountered something similar to the bridge of the Starship Enterprise. What the crap is all of this hi-tech stuff? How the heck do I check out a book?

I placed the entire stack of items I wanted to check out on a table in front of a computer monitor. As I was looking around to see what to do next, the monitor began to list the items I had placed on the table. "You've got to be kidding me. What the hell is this?" A security guard nearby walked over and gave me directions on how to check out items on "our new toy."

I was instructed to place my books in a stack on the table. The table top, as if by magic, scanned the stack of books, CDs, and DVDs and immediately checked them out. I received a receipt when it was through. I did not have to pass the books by hand under a scanner. All I did was set the books down on the table.

Naturally, I missed something and set off an alarm as I was leaving the library. With all this hi-tech gear to make my library experience a pleasant one, I sure seem to be setting off a lot of alarms. In the old days with just a stamp I don't remember ever setting off an alarm. Not once. I eventually discovered that I was not leaving my stack of books on the table long enough. (I guess the hi-tech gizmo needs time to save me time.)

To check the library materials back in is another story. You punch a button on a computer screen to begin. Then you place each item under a red light hovering over a conveyor belt hidden inside a slot in the wall. The book, CD, or DVD, whatever, is slowly sucked in by the conveyor belt. As it passes by a scanner the red light turns green. It's similar to standing in front of a microwave oven in your kitchen and slowly placing a book inside it, only to see it disappear into nothingness, sucked into oblivion.

I suppose all of this Star Trek technology enables the library to safely check out items to the public without having to pay someone to stamp a card. It is a slick operation when you think about it. Walk in, find your book, lay it on a table, walk out. But does it save time? Maybe. If I can stop setting off the alarm.

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My fireworks video from Green Valley Ranch Casino this July 4th, "in support of the troops" as its theme, along with music by Leonard Cohen.