If I stood Sin City on it's side: A towering right-hook of lights about 10 miles high. And you can fear not, cause my entire face hurts. A swollen jaw and blood on my shirt from the fat-lip that this dry air provides... but, who is taking sides? A one-hundred-and-twenty hour alcohol party in a blur of business cards and catalogs. Getting started. And no one's been pronouncing my name right -- No one's been saying my name right -- making my waiting more urgent for a new home and a four hour red-eye flight.
