Neck Popping feels good in the morning after a night of gorging on brick oven pizza, Guinness, Genache, coffee.

Watched In America last night. Felt quite familiar. I came to America at the age of 12 from N. Ireland. It was 1985. Breakdancing was big.

My preconception of America was built around movies (of course). Esp. E.T. There’s a scene where they eat Pizza Hut pizza. I wanted Pizza Hut.

Instead we landed in Las Vegas in July and headed to a K-Mart for our first American hamburger. My Dad purchased plastic cowboy boots for the whole family. He laid insulation.

Then mormondom, strange underwear, and disowning of my accent.

What is an accent? Assimilation, melting pot. The ideology of a melting pot. Not sure what I think yet. My first instinct is against it. The idea of homogeneous etc.

Difference etc.

But then Irish, Italian, Ukrainian neighborhoods? Separate communities to maintain the integrity of a culture? I admit, I often wish we landed in NY or Boston instead of Las Vegas.

Las Vegas is the ultimate big pot of commodified cultures.

Is culture always a commodity?

Lots of lights in Las Vegas.

It’s called The Strip!

Strip indeed.

Published by Marcus Slease

Born in Portadown, Northern Ireland, Marcus Slease has made his home in such places as Turkey, Poland, Italy, South Korea, the United States, Spain, and the United Kingdom – experiences that inform his nomadic surrealist writing. His latest book is Never Mind the Beasts (Dostoyevsky Wannabe 2020).

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