You Belong to the City

I've been in a Miami Vice spiral all day.

It started with the mention of "The Heat Is On," devolved into "Sunset Grill," and dove even further into the abject blackness of "All She Wants to Do Is Dance." I don't know why Glenn Frey and Don Henley are forever associated with that whole Miami '85 vibe for me, but they are, forever and ever, the Miami Vice sountrack of my life. Considering the fact that '85 was "unfortunate" and "full of learning experiences," there is no way to make a positive association here. I will always associate "You Belong to the City" with familial tension (ha!) and living that particular, hunted life of a 13-year-old with too tight clothes and black-lined eyes who just does not know any better (or have fucking cash to buy fucking clothes that fucking fit). See? Spiral. Ooo, shiny.

I am trying to unlearn what I have learned ('sup little man) but the dark side is strong within me. I am sure that someday I will look back at 1985 with something other than bitterness. Someday, we will all just laugh and laugh. Because we're high. On drugs.

It gives me comfort to know that someone, somewhere, shares this dark planet where speedboats, white pants, feathered hair, and pastels will always bleed into night and nothing about that contrived world brings comfort, or breezy sentimentality, or wistful longing for the past. Fuck the past and it's fucking mama, too.

Or, perhaps I am spiraling because of that homeless woman on 23rd and Broadway who completely terrifies me because I can imagine her Before. When all she wanted to do is dance...and drink rum. She still does one.