Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Today I drove down Highway 90. What used to be an overcrowded, casino infested, debaucherous paradise is now a Ghost Town. There is no traffic, no gambling, no naked people on beach, no fishermen, no old retired couples riding bicycles, no antebellum mansions, nothing but piles of rubble. I saw what must have been several hundred billion dollars worth of damage and destruction today. How much sleep am I going to loose over it? None. I’ve gotten so used to seeing the most horrible things. I see kids playing in filth that I wouldn’t want to see a stray dog to play in, but they’re happy. The stench of death hangs in the air as rotting organic material like dead animals and saltwater polluted plants begin to decompose. It’s a feast of the senses for flies, mosquitos and biting gnats, but your nose gets used to it and you can always use bug spray. This has become normality. What can I do about it? Like everyone else, I find it hard to care anymore. I’m not saying I don’t care but I’m only caring on a rational level.
Maybe that’s why I’ve recently developed an unusual affinity to Punk Rock music. Ok, not really, I just descovered that I like a few songs by a few Punk Rock bands. I’m still not a huge fan of the genere as a whole but I guess I can just relate to the depressing, nihilistic and anarchistic lyrics in a way I never could before. As I was walking around
“I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Where the city sleeps
and I'm the only one and I walk alone”
Though I have no idea what Green Day wrote that song about, depressing lyrics have a way of pricking my emotion and making me feel normal. It helps me to feel bad in a way I have trouble doing on my own. Lamentations and Ecclesiastes have new meaning and have even become my choices for pleasure reading. I’m just looking for something to help me feel.
What do we say to that? Quite a place. Katie and I still need to come visit you.
Posted by Danny | 9:29 PM