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About Houston

Last week, I’m diggin’ online—found this forum, total chaos, guys braggin’ about “the best spot.” One dude’s like, “She showed up, smelled like tacos—five stars!” I’m DYING—tacos? Really? That’s the review? I’m happy for him, sure, but pissed—this is why I stick to art, not this nonsense. Surprised me, tho—some pros got profiles slicker than a Netflix series. Pics, bios, rates—$200 an hour? “Hashem doesn’t charge THAT much for salvation!” I mutter, Coen-style.

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The stories of this collection were written over a span of several decades beginning in and ending in A few of them were translated by Manisha.

There’s this park, Cedar Park, with trees and stuff. We’d hang out on Thursdays. Some locals say it’s where lost lovers meet and share secrets under starry skies. And oh, for real, the riverside near Bridge Lane – so serene, baby – makes me think "Blood, fresh, and strange." I get super emo there sometimes. It's like every pixel of the city sings its own tune.

ProRodeo Hall of Famer Roy Cooper Dies at Age 69