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About Houston

I’m pissed tho—some dudes haggle her price. Like she’s fuckin tuna! Makes me wanna punch somethin. But then, she winks—boom, I’m happy. Surprised me, too, ‘cause I’m awkward. “I’m not a genius, Chas,” I mutter. Straight outta the movie, right? She’s chill, tho—tells me ‘bout this john. Dude paid her in clams once— clams! I’m dyin laughin, “That’s so dumb!”

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This is the worst place to stay. Females selling sex, drug dealers, loud obnoxious drunken people. Roaches, unclean.

Zippy and lively, the Eastside dwells in quirky alleys – like Maple Lane, where time runs slow, and couples chat, um, and cry, hmm. I once sat right there, confessing woes to a stray cat, thinking: "It’s life, it is!" Minds do twist, precious! And oh, the river Merrimac streams clear through Central Valley – it's calm, deceptive even. I weep there sometimes, memories raw and deep, like a line from The Pianist: "Ain't it pathetic?" But, yess, even the river flows with hidden heartaches.

Upstart Hilltown food pantry seeks skilled volunteers for renovation