It’s been eight years since I’ve gotten a tattoo, and the two I’ve already got are beginning to ask what’s taking so long.

John Carpenter’s first “real” movie remains one of his best. Also: The ghosts of Las Vegas live in plain sight … for now.

In 1990 I met the captain of David Copperfield’s dance team. She was shopping for atmospheric music to back up the boss’ vanishing-widget shtick, and I volunteered to make him a tape.

Cloris Leachman appeared in my dreams last night. I’m always happy to see her, and heaven knows she deserves as many roles as she can get.

In 1990, I met comedian Andrew Dice Clay in Las Vegas. His reputation preceded him: People were saying he was a lousy tipper and an obnoxious jerk.

Killing time in the parking lot before a 1980s Judas Priest show. Also: Penn Jillette appears on the horizon, and Don Draper emotes in a variety pack.

Photography is a learning process that eventually becomes a skill, and it’s a skill that eventually becomes a sense. I’m getting there.

Each film portrays a stunning beauty of her day (1961’s Miss Hourglass — so named for having sand in all the right places!) at the height of her acting prowess.

Hollywood Forever Cemetary reminds me of Los Angeles in the late 1990s, when I met Creepy Hearse Guy in a film studies class and fell in love.

Every day I feel what it is to be a Las Vegan — to be underestimated at every turn, to be judged a hard-drinking frat boy, to be thought artless and bereft. And I use it to my advantage.