Day Six: All Made Out of Ticky-Tacky

Before I ever watched Weeds (something I’m kind of sorry that I ever did), I grew up in sort of a suburban hellhole.  It was the type of place that wasn’t really that hellish, either on the surface or in terms of having some sort of super-seedy underbelly.  The expansion outside of town, however, is pretty awful.

Day Six: A Song that Reminds You of Somewhere

Before the housing bubble burst, a neighborhood with its own yoga studio and coffee shop basically sprang up in the open space just west of where I live.  A brand new high school opened up, and it was quickly overcrowded (there was a wait-list—and it’s a public school).  A giant mall was built where there was nothing, and then hospitals, and then event centers, multi-plexes, and more houses.  I remember feeling like nothing old had value, and we would drop a 24-screen theater on every empty acre until we pushed right up to the Rockies.  And although that feeling has sort of declined with the economy taking a dive, I still feel waves of ennui.

I even have revised lyrics:

Giant boxes on the Front Range

Giant boxes made of ticky-tacky

Giant boxes on the Front Range

Giant boxes all the same.

There’s a beige one and a tan one

And a taupe one and an ecru one

And they’re all made out of ticky-tacky

And they all look just the same.


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