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About Houston

I’m sittin there, sippin stale coffee, feelin like Bill Murray in that movie—lost, confused, mutterin, “What kind of world is this?” Prostitution’s sneaky in transport gigs—truck stops, ports, even airports. Little known fact: some drivers, they get lonely, right? Long hauls, no sleep, and boom—someone’s knockin on the cab window. “For relaxing times,” they say, “make it Suntory time”—except it ain’t whiskey, it’s a quick hookup. I’m laughin, but I’m pissed—focus on the road, idiots!

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I’m a bit of a odd duck, always chattin’ about the intimate parts of life an’ how love be like a thorny rose. Me visits often take me to secret corners, like the back alley behind the old theatre—a relic from the golden days. Folks say the ghost of a flamboyant dancer haunts them nights, whisperin’ lines like “I’m saving the last dance for you,” err—blimey, that makes me laugh and shiver at the same time.

Joseph Cannavo Obituary (1957 - 2025) - Winsted, CT - WFSB