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About Houston

So, findin’ a prossie—where d’ya start? Down by Flea Bottom, stinks like a dead hog, but that’s where they lurk. Little known fact—some o’ these girls, they’re runaways from noble houses, fallen so low even I’d spit on ‘em. Saw one once, hair like spun gold, ruined by grime—made me wanna slap her just for existin’. “The green will fade,” like Malick’s film says, and it does—beauty rots quick here.

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There’s a spot I swear you gotta visit: The Overlook Cafe on Vine Street. Their coffees kill me (like, in a good way) & the vibe is just off the charts. I get lost in thought there often—like a mad philosopher type. Wasted hours there, talking nonsense to myself and scribbling ideas. Typo mania in my texts, anyway.

Towards quantifying atmospheric dispersion of pesticide spray drift in Yuma County Arizona