wandrlust:

The Strip, 1968 — Denise Scott Brown and Robert Venturi

Holy. Shit. The only thing left is the Flamingo, I have matchboxes from the Dunes, that’s about it. 

Brandon Flowers represents the Las Vegas everyone has already forgotten. 

My sister surprised me with a trip to the Neon Boneyard. It was closed due to a photoshoot. Heheh. Next time. 

I LIVE THIS WAY BECAUSE FUCK YOU.

Yellow lights permeate the night at irregular intervals, and although Ryan de Silva’s childhood home was just a 20 minute drive from downtown Indianapolis it quietly whispered of the midwestern stereotypes that stifled his breath.

The stoplights he passes on the way to BroadRipple are occasionally held by wires, and everywhere around him dead silence permeates into his thoughts. It seems not a soul is awake tonight, even in the particularly small northern nightlife district. A far cry, he thought, from the round-the-clock anarchy found in his new home of Las Vegas, Nevada. Now a popular promoter for MARQUEE, Ryan can’t help but laugh at the disparity between his two lives.

Still, he couldn’t resist this intrinsic tendency to find the outskirts somewhat comforting. It was after all intertwined with memories of his late mother, Sunday Mass, and the excitement of winter’s snow on a Christmas day. To say the least, the humble nothingness was intertwined with a simpler past free from Janus and Ashley Vegas.

Those two.

The ones that fucked up everything he ever had.

Story has it Janus is as fluid as they come, moving freely from place to place. 

Person to person.

In the city that doesn’t love, what’s one to do having never experienced the embrace of a girlfriend, a boyfriend?

Would it have been different if he’d been raised back in Romania?   

PEOPLE LOVE IT WHEN I’M FIT AND THIN, SO I WORK OUT RELIGIOUSLY.

BECAUSE DEEP DOWN, I’M A LITTLE SCARED THEY WOULDN’T IF I WASN’T. 

They call us the official bottle poppers

“BEING VAPID HAS GOTTEN ME EVERYTHING I’VE EVER WANTED. 

ONLY UGLY PEOPLE COMPLAIN ABOUT TODAY’S SOCIETY.

BECAUSE.. THEY’RE ALL BENT UP ON BEING UGLY, YOU KNOW?” 

The Cosmopolitan always seemed like a casino straight out of the fairy tales. 

If casinos/luxury hotels had fairy tales…

I try to remember experiences in places like Bartini, Tru, and The Casba, they’re all really foggy now.