I am told I will be in France on Tuesday.
All I really know right now is that I saw my boyfriend Mark for the last time yesterday. On our final night together, we simultaneously changed our facebook relationship status to “célibataire” and fell asleep tangled up in each other, his nose resting on mine, exchanging CO2. Now I’m in my dad’s spare bedroom and I forgot my toothbrush so I’ve wiped my teeth down on the corner of a towel. I’m too hot to put pants on, not that I sleep in pants anyway.


On Friday Dad gave me a twenty and ushered me into a hidden (?) “gem” (cough) of the great Pacific Northwest known as the Seven Feathers Hotel and Casino Resort, conveniently located just off I-5. Jutting its flat white face out of the Western Oregon forest is this multi-acre single-level maze of cement and elderly-luring “ritz”, fronted by a monstrous statue of a bald eagle hooking a rather distressed-looking trout in its talons (perhaps a metaphor for big juicy PNW-style winnings.) On this happening Friday evening, blessed be, Miss Leeann (that’s Lee-Aynn, folks) Rimes was to grace the 7F stage, and apparently everybody who was anybody (req: equal parts cologned/white/wrinkled) had sashayed their way out in one-to-two-person SUVs with their gamblin’ pants on, ladies staggering around in clip-on pearls and flip-flop pumps, old men in their khakis and blue jeans and souvenir Florida t-shirts. To me, casinos are deliberately dizzying, formulated specifically to assault and overwhelm the senses, an array of at-odds distractions to pull your mind off rigged electronic slot machines and defrosted jumbo shrimps that are $3 per (not to mention the sound foundation of complete Native American cultural demolition but hey, let’s just let bygones be bygones already, right?) You’ve got color (read: on everything but the living people), flashy lights and whirring noises, psychologically proven advertising, all-you-can-eat buffets, addiction starter kits, multicolored eyeshadow, bottomless Pepsi products, and Velcro sandals combined with cowboy hats, ALL IN ONE CONVENIENT LOCATION.


This, my friends, is the United States of America.

Three days.