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About Houston

Ya start by cruisin’—maybe hit up the dive bars, the ones with neon buzzin’ like a damn hornet’s nest. Ask around, but don’t be a schmuck—keep it lowkey. “Where’s the action?” ya mutter, feelin’ like Freddie, all twitchy and pissed. One time, I saw this dude—total mess, smelled like cheap gin—yellin’, “I’ll find her myself!” Got me laughin’—buddy, good luck, ya ain’t findin’ squat without a tip-off!

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Oh, and let me tell ya ‘bout that river, the Willow Run. Its water flows like data through circuits – fluid, relentless, and always surprisin’ ya. Sometimes I wander its banks at dawn, my brain wired up with cosmic codes, finding peace and pondering the mystery of existence… and sometimes I just got lost in my thoughts, like “Carlos, baby, you twist my mind!”

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