Ghosts of Glendale

I’ve been attempting to find some redeeming qualities in my present surroundings, but a recent letter from my sister has started me thinking that my redemption lies elsewhere. Glendale is a boring place. And in case you were wondering that’s the Glendale in AZ not the one in CO, ID, DE, KS, NY, etc. etc. etc. A town called Glendale can be found in 36 of our 50 states. Boring. It is far too sterile for me, like the inside of some giant, redundant machine, chugging away redundantly for no reason at all.

The streets bleed into sidewalks, sidewalks into parking lots, and the parking lots into buildings that are all starting to look the same. There are some planted things here and there but they are so contrived one can scarcely believe they are real.

My sister’s letter touched on self-respect in relation to how we have a tendency to reflect our environments. We, as humans, need input that provides us with interest and challenge to help us understand where we fit in this world, which leads to the creation of substantial and meaningful output.
There is no life or culture in this setting for us to reflect so very little of any worth gets created. You barely even see other people here and when you do it’s usually through the tinted glass of big new cars, like a ghost’s reflection in a mirror.

Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary.

I tried going where people gather here, meccas of consumerism known as shopping malls, and while I get a momentary fix, it too becomes illusory. Shadow people trying to fill their void with things they saw on TV and in magazines but it will never be enough.

I miss walking through a metropolis, teeming with life, filling up with stimulation for the senses. Things are too spread out here, spread too thin. People have to drive to get anywhere they think might be worth going and end up isolated and unconnected. Walks here are down empty sidewalks, along busy streets or boring neighborhoods. I can’t trust a place you can’t explore by foot.

This is a land of isolation and while isolation has its place, for me it is only comforting once the sun goes down and I can wrap myself in the darkness. A drive through Phoenix at night is the closest I can get to the freedom of space. Everything is open and clear, the lights of the city like a reflection of the stars, and me just floating through with the windows down and the radio on. It’s lovely, but it’s not enough. Bloody Marys can help. The drink, not the scary ghost lady… standing right behind you!