Through the bustling crevices of the cities stood a pillar of the future, breaking the constant rhythm of civilizations. A loud remainder. A bleeding anachronism. It was the most staggering thing in the world at the moment, and not just it but what it meant. There, peeking among the clouds over everything else was the tower. Like an icicle, cold and sharp the thought pierced me. There was a light and a high beauty too far from ever being in reach. It was the most beautiful and at the same time horrid thing in the world, the inability of the human mind to have something like that, something so tall and gorgeous but also so mocking as to say that you could never reach it and in comparison and so unimportant and fragile.
We live on a colorful sphere of solitude around the black oceans of infinity and whatever else is beyond. What is even worse is that the same idea hadn't struck the rest of us, leaving my in the sad realization that when the day comes that others do piece together this knowledge, it will open vast limitations and our harrowing potion therein will either enable us to go mad from the epiphany or flee into the safety of a new dark age.
Away. I just needed to get away. Apart from the various beggars who fathomed neglect. Apart from the pretentious suits lining up the road. Apart from the city that had littered the minds of young and old leaving only hatred and wanting behind. Object- none. Where I was going, not I nor even the train operator knew for certain, we both just gathered along for the ride. Choosh da da da da da da, Choosh da da da da da da, the constant rhythm of the train was hypnotic. Outside the snow covered the rich deep wood in a perfect cushion. The farther the train harpened the more the snow blanketed everything in the vicinity, shrubs, benches, lampposts, all swallowed by the white and soon only the tall reaches of the aforementioned buildings were visible.
There were four others here on the train, five if you count the hobo in the corner who never spoke or slept or ate. One of the other travelers was like me. Just on the train for the sake of going away from the city. He said that he might go somewhere north, he had family there. When we were at a rest stop he had just left, no goodbye or see you later, just the vague memory in our minds that there used to be someone where the rats were bundling. Soon after the hobo left for another train, and there were just three left. Both of them were brothers, and jolly people. They liked telling stories and even more hearing themselves speak. They said that they were on the ride until they could find a place to work, but they kept making excuses every time the opportunity presented itself. But with the last of their money they went, to some mining job in a pass over town. And then just me, and I had nowhere to go.
The snow had stopped college from resuming after the break, and my parents weren't around for me to visit. No jobs, no classes, no adult responsibilities stood on my back. Just leaving the city brought me to a level of unprecedented independence. It was just me, my bag, and the scenes on the road. There was a certain freedom in being suspended between two places. Every source of anxiety eliminated. Then I found it, as of this moment, for the first time in my life, I knew where I was going. I was going away.
When in Vegas
Las Vegas, 9:47 P.M., two unopened boxes of cigarettes in my kitchen drawer wait to burn into my lungs like the city through my bank account. I looked out to my balcony, where my view lined up perfectly with The Strip. Every night, when the clouds aren't too hazy, the view of the desert fades to a dim black, and the fiery sun isn't too blazing to detract your view you can spot the same spectacle that I did right then, only the neon lights won't be so totally artificial and fake as hell to you as to me. Now, the lights are lovely, and hold a kaleidoscope of colors, if you like neon. Glossy counterfeit neon. Logos shine with a specific and unrelenting vendetta against the darkness, never leaving the city in the gloom, but also never allowing it to stay dim. The signs glitter gigawatts of greed, misery, and guilty fun, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year.
To all the tourists streaming in the city it was kind of like the notion of an exotic place like Zagreb or Reykjavik to the rest of the world. A trip they all dream of taking at least once in their lifetime, which constantly attracted them with their imaginations of what there was to do; everyone from the most desperate loners to happily married men and women glancing this way, even if just for a single second, of what there was possible, of what could have been here. But nonetheless, not a move they would want to make permanent. Vegas is like that. There was a prominent attraction here. One that promised a bounty of money, sex, and fun. But the first was an obvious illusion, that only took the hearts of foolish. The second was a given but not without danger, and expense. And the third was never fraught or forgotten, but its mirage depended on perspective. But the attraction was long gone for me. And it wasn't a visit, for me this was my life.
I strolled down to the bumbling crowds of people, heading to The Strip. Waves of electricity cackle the air around me, emanating from the pop facades of all the different buildings which actually started molding the atmosphere. It mutated the ambiance of the night, a night that was so repetitive to me but to others made it feel like the night for things to happen. I remember my first walk here. It was a promise waiting to be completed, the glow of the city bearing witness, the exuberant buildings officiating it, and everything else in the city enforcing it. Twenty years later, and I'm still waiting. Down here was the kind of Vegas omitted in TV shows and movies. Pictures of gorgeous stunning women lining up the casinos, peculiar people with odd quirks fascinating onlookers, and booming employees only doors paint a harrowing story from the real tale. The women escorted by men hiding guns, and also hiding their rings, the weird people, high on all sorts of illegal drugs who only entice you for a second before disgusting you with their vomit on your jacket, and the doors leading to hidden elitist clubs, hiding more than just a class ordained structure but strip clubs and illicit clandestine business deals.
Beside me towers of gigantic hotels and casinos stood tall, hovering over the people along the avenue. Its glittering amnesiacs shone the lights of Circus Circus, Desert Inn, Stardust, Las Vegas Hilton, Riviera, Treasure Island, Venetian, Ceasers Palace, and Bellagio. I head into one of them, seeking out my best friend who worked as one of the tellers. Looking at the gamblers I saw their thirst to win, and using chips to take away from the stigma of dollars, as they took each one of them one by one until you went to go exchange it for money and realizing that you've thrown away your mortgage payments and juniors college funds. I hailed a hand to my friend and he came along. We head to my car, all the while stripping ourselves of anything that reminded us of this city.
Once we got in I sped the other way, only looking back until we were just far enough that we could only make out the glow of the city. Here it looked so miniature, so tiny and fragile. It reminded me of a toy play set I used to own with all the lights glitzing into the night. I thought how precious. The memories whizzed quick like a bee sting and dissipated once Vegas was lost out of sight. I was its greatest lover, and it, my only.
To all the tourists streaming in the city it was kind of like the notion of an exotic place like Zagreb or Reykjavik to the rest of the world. A trip they all dream of taking at least once in their lifetime, which constantly attracted them with their imaginations of what there was to do; everyone from the most desperate loners to happily married men and women glancing this way, even if just for a single second, of what there was possible, of what could have been here. But nonetheless, not a move they would want to make permanent. Vegas is like that. There was a prominent attraction here. One that promised a bounty of money, sex, and fun. But the first was an obvious illusion, that only took the hearts of foolish. The second was a given but not without danger, and expense. And the third was never fraught or forgotten, but its mirage depended on perspective. But the attraction was long gone for me. And it wasn't a visit, for me this was my life.
I strolled down to the bumbling crowds of people, heading to The Strip. Waves of electricity cackle the air around me, emanating from the pop facades of all the different buildings which actually started molding the atmosphere. It mutated the ambiance of the night, a night that was so repetitive to me but to others made it feel like the night for things to happen. I remember my first walk here. It was a promise waiting to be completed, the glow of the city bearing witness, the exuberant buildings officiating it, and everything else in the city enforcing it. Twenty years later, and I'm still waiting. Down here was the kind of Vegas omitted in TV shows and movies. Pictures of gorgeous stunning women lining up the casinos, peculiar people with odd quirks fascinating onlookers, and booming employees only doors paint a harrowing story from the real tale. The women escorted by men hiding guns, and also hiding their rings, the weird people, high on all sorts of illegal drugs who only entice you for a second before disgusting you with their vomit on your jacket, and the doors leading to hidden elitist clubs, hiding more than just a class ordained structure but strip clubs and illicit clandestine business deals.
Beside me towers of gigantic hotels and casinos stood tall, hovering over the people along the avenue. Its glittering amnesiacs shone the lights of Circus Circus, Desert Inn, Stardust, Las Vegas Hilton, Riviera, Treasure Island, Venetian, Ceasers Palace, and Bellagio. I head into one of them, seeking out my best friend who worked as one of the tellers. Looking at the gamblers I saw their thirst to win, and using chips to take away from the stigma of dollars, as they took each one of them one by one until you went to go exchange it for money and realizing that you've thrown away your mortgage payments and juniors college funds. I hailed a hand to my friend and he came along. We head to my car, all the while stripping ourselves of anything that reminded us of this city.
Once we got in I sped the other way, only looking back until we were just far enough that we could only make out the glow of the city. Here it looked so miniature, so tiny and fragile. It reminded me of a toy play set I used to own with all the lights glitzing into the night. I thought how precious. The memories whizzed quick like a bee sting and dissipated once Vegas was lost out of sight. I was its greatest lover, and it, my only.
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