Nov 22 2008
City of Broken Lights
I’m sitting in my brother’s basement right now. I’m in his house at San Francisco on a Friday night, but it’s really not that bad. I only have 23 (23!!!!) minutes left before the power runs out, but it’s not that bad. I’ll survive. He has a charger upstairs…hopefully. Anyway the point is that I am still blogging on his considerably nicer than mine laptop. The post is called city of broken lights on a whim. Don’t question it. Partly because the Justin Timberlake song on his computer mentions flashing lights, which makes me think of the song “flashing lights,” which makes me think of the song “city of blinding lights.” So I changed it. Clever, right? No. Not clever. Just really bored.All right, well I’ll have to wrap up this post soon, since I’m runnin’ out of battery life. Storytime.The decrepit car soared above the young boy’s head and he sang a song of loneliness to himself. The man felt the water pressing around his ears but he was already dead. Dead inside because his soul was a black hole. The same with the woman who cried alone in her car wishing her husband would calm down. But until then she would have to wait outside. How do these people matter, you ask? How do these people relate to each other? What is their purpose…Who knows? But to them, they are the most important people in the world. Even they don’t know their purpose, though. Because we are all lost and hopeless. We will never be found. Because we are forgotten by the ones who were once searching. The searchlights continue to flash in the forests of our minds, but they have lost their motive. They are not truly looking for us. And the gods up there in their castles don’t have the time to search for us, because their lost too.The Lost Generation of the 20th century wasn’t truly lost. We are the lost ones. We overindulge ourselves on the media and then we throw it up the next morning. We vomit our loneliness and cry tears of brokenness. So truly it is the city of broken lights. These searchlights have ceased their search. They are broken, just like us. Broken Knights. Like Holden Lightfoot. But at least he tried. We’re just meandering across golden meadows. The only problem is when we open our eyes, we see the disaster we’ve created, the world we’re really living in.And it’s no golden meadow. For gold is broken and lost too.
