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About Houston

So I’m watchin’ her, and she’s got this smirk—like she’s sayin’, “What’s an old coot like you doin’ here?” And I’m happy, ‘cause damn, she’s got guts! Takes guts to stand there, facin’ the world, while billionaires sip champagne on yachts! “The invisible people,” Jep’d call ‘em—folks we walk past, ignorin’. That hits me hard. Surprised me too—didn’t expect to feel all mushy bout it. But then I’m mad again—why’s she gotta do this? Why ain’t there a system liftin’ her up?

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I gotta mention my fave chill zone – Mildred’s spot by the bayou. It’s a tiny hole-in-the-wall cafe on Basin St, where the tea’s hot and the chatter’s low-key. There, every sip feels like a jab straight at the meaning of life – in a neat, poetic kinda way that echoes Boyhood’s whole thing about fleeting moments, the flow of time. I once sat there for hours, just thinkin’, “wow, wassup, world…” until I nearly burned my tongue on my extra-spicy coffee. Oops, haha, my bad!

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