It was too, too good to be back in Vegas. Short, bittersweet, gained more than I lost (except at the slot machines.). More thoughts on the trip, and what it inspired, to come, but for now, just a couple quick snapshots of a few friends. I focus too much on work as the metric for success--why do we do this?--and I always think I come up short. Vegas--with its emphasis on luck, odds, and therefore, opportunity, forces you to reconsider "success" since so much of what you enjoy about Vegas is the thrill of possibility, rather than attainment. And it forces you to question the value of "authenticity"--allegedly the true mark of quality, in art or elsewhere--since the very essence of Vegas, what makes it high-quality fun, is the expert manifestation of artifice. This is not a vacation destination for those who like to relax; it's stimuli-junkie heaven. With the full sensory overload and boundless distractions for both mind and body, Vegas demands a certain stamina. You close out each night in Sin City somewhere between titillated and exhausted. Each of the five senses gets a full-onslaught workout, and if you've got a few friends around to enjoy the punishment with, there's really no better way to burn up a weekend.
Charidie and Kelly Timberman at the Monte Carlo. Between Charidie's 4 pounds of jewelry (her estimation, not mine) and Kelly's World Champion ring, the Timberman's set the standard for rodeo bling.
Ms. Redd (so named as smart, beyond-gorgeous women like her are often misread) is a soon-to-be household name in Burlesque. Just being near her makes you feel like you've gotten the velvet glove treatment. It's not just the va-va-voom packaging, it's the heart beneath it all. Oh, and the eyes. The eyes, the eyes, the eyes. I think if you fail to let yourself be intoxicated by beauty, you're walling yourself off from one of the great joys of life.
That's MY excuse for staring at her, anyway. What's yours?