This last Friday, I remembered that, while I had been in San Jose to see Randy Newman, I had taped a special on VH-1 about Warren Zevon and the making of his final album. I watched it on Friday and found it very moving, and moreover enjoyed the music very much. I ordered his new CD, and thought to myself that I hoped it would arrive before he died. Unfortunately, that's not how things turned out. I'm about to leave for Vegas, and this was a bit of a bummer to stumble upon over my morning coffee (actually, I first learned about his death from the crawler on CNN, a truly horrendous way to learn any unpleasant news). But he lived almost a year longer than his doctors thought he would, long enough to finish an album and see the birth of his first grandchildren. I know how much it meant to my father to live to see my sister's wedding, so I imagine extending his life by such a short period was no cold comfort to Mr. Zevon.

Now I'm depressed. I wish I could watch the VH-1 special again before I leave, but I do have to hit the road. I'm not as excited as I usually am before a Vegas trip. It feels like an obligation, like I know how much I enjoy Vegas, so God damn it, enjoy this trip! I'm bringing less money than I usually do, but it still seems like an obscene amount to gamble away. I think I'm trying to impose some sense of stability in my life, saying some things may change, but I'm a gambler, and always will be. Maybe I'll take Double Down with me, re-reading it in Vegas on my first trip since my father's death seems appropriate.