La hora de volvé

The entire state of Massachusetts looked as though it were about to commit suicide when I arrived yesterday evening.

I feel a bit like the opposite of Rita Indiana in "La hora de volvé":

Toda la gente vuelve a la tierra en que nacieron
Al embruje inconfundible de su sol
¿Y quién quiere estar comiendo mierda y hielo
Cuando puede estar bailando algo mejor?

(Translation)
Everyone goes back to where they came from
To the unmistakable spell of the sun
And who wants to be eating shit and ice
When you could be dancing something better?

Now, don't get me wrong. I love Worcester, really, I do. It's a love-hate relationship of sorts, and as though I were starting right back at square one, the hate definitely comes first.

There's a certain indescribable energy here, good vibes, that unfortunately decide to run and hide whenever it rains. It's all good when you've been here a while, but a little disconcerting upon recently disembarking from an airplane spitting you back in the physically and emotionally frigid north after your Caribbean adventure.


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