I've used to always marveled at the allure of "the big city".
The fabric of reality and dreams are stitched together. And somewhere in the pounding heart of this mixing of metal and flesh and leather and latex, the nocturnal tailors make the decisions that will affect all that wander in the canyons and alleys. Multimillion dollar deals are made in fancy restaurants, dungeons and high priced whorehouses, while gutter folk rage against their own suffering, yet over time learn to embrace it because they have nothing else. The movie stars shine brightly here thanks to movie moguls and no one honestly cares if one or two people go missing. This place is sin for the senses and the physical. And once you took that first look, your first lick of this delicious lollipop, you were hooked.
I've moved around quite a bit and seen cities in differnt states, in different countries, in different states of disaray.The old were here, trying to recapture that youth of theirs they wasted in "more conservative" times. Men, dancing and hanging off of girls that could be their daughters; women hanging onto men that could be their sons. And all of them trying to pretend it was they who were being pursued. All of it was a mask they wore, the young and old. Masks they all projected to hide the ugliness they felt inside.
I always dislike what cities become. The sprawling metropolis in the begining of times was devoid of it's dark alleyways and lockups mixed in with low income housing. At its outset, those short decades ago, I'd hoped it would be a showcase of the evolving tastes and styles of the waning century; a dynamic time capsule of sorts, where pieces of the passing years could be kept and preserved to look upon later. And for a time, albeit a very short time, it had been just that. People would save small changes to the place's dcor from decade to decade, trying to make a hybrid of tastes and perspectives, that could be viewed far into the future, and be appreciated for possessing the very best of what the ever-changing American culture had to offer. And it is ever changing.
People tend ot be a great deal like these cities. The have their exterior appearance which does nothing for what they hold at bay inside. Some of us are dead there, and it shows on our outer shell like wallpaper. These people have dead eyes like dolls. Rock them and the eyes close, shake them and the eyes swivel. There are others who wear sunshine like a coat and brighten the darkest of moods with thier presence. It could be that ignorance is truly bliss or they've found out some secret that the rest of us are jealous of, but they continue to be way they are, happy, joyful, dancing in the rain. I'm not sure where I fall in here, and my casual indifference, after so many years of being built, is such that what started as a basic means of psychological defense has overrun most of my actions. I find it difficult to spend to much time caring about something that could be gone tomorrow or the next day or within the hour. That seems to be the new model In this 20-something meat market world.
It's become a place for the lonely to flirt, and the insecure to show themselves off, just for the sake of showing off and I would've been forced to rearrange my vision, or else lose the masterpiece I'd set up altogether. The nit-picky, flash-in-the-pan fads and styles of the modern nights did not allow for a person to thrive unless it was willing to alter itself at a moments notice. My plan of an mental-lock, an institution, that would alter itself through slow osmosis of elegant culture, was now reduced to a "new-look-a-week" trend spot for the adolescent-minded of today.
And a place where no one is how they appeared.
The fabric of reality and dreams are stitched together. And somewhere in the pounding heart of this mixing of metal and flesh and leather and latex, the nocturnal tailors make the decisions that will affect all that wander in the canyons and alleys. Multimillion dollar deals are made in fancy restaurants, dungeons and high priced whorehouses, while gutter folk rage against their own suffering, yet over time learn to embrace it because they have nothing else. The movie stars shine brightly here thanks to movie moguls and no one honestly cares if one or two people go missing. This place is sin for the senses and the physical. And once you took that first look, your first lick of this delicious lollipop, you were hooked.
I've moved around quite a bit and seen cities in differnt states, in different countries, in different states of disaray.The old were here, trying to recapture that youth of theirs they wasted in "more conservative" times. Men, dancing and hanging off of girls that could be their daughters; women hanging onto men that could be their sons. And all of them trying to pretend it was they who were being pursued. All of it was a mask they wore, the young and old. Masks they all projected to hide the ugliness they felt inside.
I always dislike what cities become. The sprawling metropolis in the begining of times was devoid of it's dark alleyways and lockups mixed in with low income housing. At its outset, those short decades ago, I'd hoped it would be a showcase of the evolving tastes and styles of the waning century; a dynamic time capsule of sorts, where pieces of the passing years could be kept and preserved to look upon later. And for a time, albeit a very short time, it had been just that. People would save small changes to the place's dcor from decade to decade, trying to make a hybrid of tastes and perspectives, that could be viewed far into the future, and be appreciated for possessing the very best of what the ever-changing American culture had to offer. And it is ever changing.
People tend ot be a great deal like these cities. The have their exterior appearance which does nothing for what they hold at bay inside. Some of us are dead there, and it shows on our outer shell like wallpaper. These people have dead eyes like dolls. Rock them and the eyes close, shake them and the eyes swivel. There are others who wear sunshine like a coat and brighten the darkest of moods with thier presence. It could be that ignorance is truly bliss or they've found out some secret that the rest of us are jealous of, but they continue to be way they are, happy, joyful, dancing in the rain. I'm not sure where I fall in here, and my casual indifference, after so many years of being built, is such that what started as a basic means of psychological defense has overrun most of my actions. I find it difficult to spend to much time caring about something that could be gone tomorrow or the next day or within the hour. That seems to be the new model In this 20-something meat market world.
It's become a place for the lonely to flirt, and the insecure to show themselves off, just for the sake of showing off and I would've been forced to rearrange my vision, or else lose the masterpiece I'd set up altogether. The nit-picky, flash-in-the-pan fads and styles of the modern nights did not allow for a person to thrive unless it was willing to alter itself at a moments notice. My plan of an mental-lock, an institution, that would alter itself through slow osmosis of elegant culture, was now reduced to a "new-look-a-week" trend spot for the adolescent-minded of today.
And a place where no one is how they appeared.
bluelight3:
I want to say you have a discerning eye and and a cutting sense of analysis. Interesting analogy between city and internal decay/falseness.All the best to you.