And if you listen to them long enough, you’ll start to believe the sand you’re drinking is water too. Live in America long enough, and you’ve got enough sense to not chase after it.īut that’s the thing about outsiders – they’ve haven’t learned it’s a mirage yet. Like a heat-induced mirage shimmering in the distance. I may have lived in the state of Billy The Kid, Wyatt Earp, and prancing jackalopes, but that version of America felt lost and remote.
U2 VERTIGO PATCH
A world where wide open deserts and dusty highways aren’t an invitation to write poetry about the Mythic America but a patch of oil-rich land that hasn’t been drill-baby-drilled into a wasteland yet. But even on the cusp of the millennium, I could see the shape of that future forming on the horizon (that’s what happens when you read too much William Gibson). Of course, I didn’t say that either – I was a dumb kid, too busy reading Stephen King novels and trying not to go insane from puberty. It was a place of buzzing urban techno-hives, a place where our best and brightest battled it out to see who would be the first to create an app that could disenfranchise and alienate the most people ( hello, Bodega – may you rot in the fires of Hell). The America we lived in wasn’t steeped in John Wayne glamour. Sometimes I lied and said we had some horses, because they always look disappointed when I told them the truth. Even though it was the late ’90s, people abroad still held a vision of America that was rooted in Western movies, The Oregon Trail, and Little House on The Prairie. It didn’t matter what part of Western Europe I was in - as soon as someone found out I was from the States, there was a 75% they’d ask me a question like that. I spent a lot of time in Europe when I was a kid. “You’re from America? How many horses do you have?”
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