Houston is a song by Dean Martin — Spring Break With My Mom, end
Saturday, March 28th, 2009Houston was weather-oriented. Besides the temperature being warm enough for shorts and tank tops, we had a lot of rain. Coming in on Wednesday, it looked like it had rained. Thursday was a mfing thunderstorm with the anger of god all afternoon. The main highway roads lacked proper draining pathways and they literally flooded. A nice reminder that hurricanes hit the area on a regular basis.
T sent me to Glassell School off of Montrose. Holy moley. The facilities for clay (which don’t seem emphasized on their website) are vast and awesome. The building rooms themselves, warehouse style, are laaarge large large with a few wheels lying around and plenty of canvas-mounted and wooden-top tables. They have three or four electric kilns inside. THEY HAVE AN OVAL. For whatever reason I’m a super fan of those type of kilns. Outside are three hummer-sized gas kilns. Giant gas kilns are a happy place for me. They fit about four full-sized adults to give you an idea of their size. Too bad their deadline for residency is in a few days.

We walked around Montrose and had ourselves some Thai. Omnom green curry with tofu. We drove to Baytown afterward – when we got caught in the monsoon – and then headed to the Galleria. Holy mall. Holy stores. Holy waterfall.
Houston is nice. It’s a city… similar to Chicago, less ego. Ego in the sense of OURCITYISAWESOME IDKWHYANYONEWOULDLIVEANYWHEREELSE WHYWOULDANYONENOTLOVETHISPLACE I’VENEVERLIVEDOUTSIDEOFILLINOISGOBEARS. Weird considering I equate Texas with big-mouthed big belt buckle wearing racist asshats. It seems like this city is integrated – there are a bunch of people of a bunch of different backgrounds coexisting and acknowledging other people are around. I felt like the other two places were rather white but more importantly, segregated. Less so here. Spanish billboards are right next to English billboards. Again, sort of freaky. I mean, it’s Texas! I didn’t see many cowboy hats. Plenty of cowboy boots!
It was warm! WARM. My knuckles have almost healed. And so concludes our tour of the southwest.


