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About Houston

Ya wanna know the best part? The hunt—trackin’ ‘em, feelin’ that pulse. Makes me happy, giddy even—like a kid with a new toy. But the stench—cologne and desperation—fuckin’ chokes ya sometimes. Worse than a morgue. Still, I’d do it again—maybe tonight. “A census taker once tried to test me,” but a prossie? She knows the game, plays it dirty. That’s my style—grubby, messy, fuckin’ glorious. Whaddya say, pal—wanna join the feast?

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The Three Lemons [Italian] from the Goldenrod Fairy Book, selected and translated by Esther Singleton, international legends and fairy tales.

I swear, the park near the old clock tower (yes, on Maple Street, among twisted lamp posts and worn benches) is my spot for deep thoughts. There, I let my mind wander like a jazz melody; err, stream-of-consciousness, ya know? Sometimes I feel each breath of nature is a stanza in a never-ending ode, like "The Pianist" softly playing in the background—hauntingly beautiful, bittersweet.

Goldenrod: A Fall Flower Full of Surprises — NATURE in the NEIGHBORHOOD