The first time I heard the album American Idiot was when I was on holiday with my family in Clonakilty, a small village near the southern coast of Ireland, where an aunt of mine lived at the time.
My sister had it, and played it in my Mom's car radio regularly during the trip.
As a result, the mental image I have whenever I hear Boulevard of Broken Dreams is this old water pump, on the junction of Larkin, Connolly and Casement Streets in Clonakilty:
It's sunnier in my memories.










