There's snow business like show business

There are things about my home that I will always miss. Not that I've left yet, mind you, but I think of them and experience them in the now with a slight twinge of longing or the anticipation thereof. I woke up this morning to find my city covered with snow. Not just covered, but lightly dusted. Like God made a beautiful drawing out of charcoal. When the wind kicks up, the ashes and sediment do their little dances.

I took a hike up to and all around Holy Land USA today. It was originally built as a sort of religious theme park complete with miniature recreations of Jerusalem (including major landmarks such as Herod's temple) that was eventually abandoned when the caretaker and principle investor died. Since that time many Waterbury natives and curious tourists have made the trek, most leaving behind their mark in the form of graffiti, used condoms and empty liquor bottles. While many consider it an eyesore as a result of this vandalism, I see it as an avatar for my city itself.

Waterbury, much like Holy Land immediately after construction, once held a certain element of purity to it. The people involved at their respective peaks were idealistic, optimistic, hopeful beyond all compare. Generally when such things fall into disrepair, it is a tragedy. To me, however, this disintegration has only served to emphasize the heart and spirit that lay behind the construct - both the city and the site held love and affection in that very old and very romantic sense, something simultaneously eccentric and innocent. As the corners chip and the facades begin to crack, the soul shines through for those willing to look for it.


Here's what I listened to on my hike;

Espers - Tomorrow.mp3

Espers - Black Is The Color.mp3

Espers - Rosemary Lane.mp3