Houston 2001

In this city of failed dreams there lies a knowledge of paths that lead in every direction that the curious mind would want to venture. Gold cross of resurrection in the very midst of chaos. Medicinal cures and healing hands closely entwined with the methamphetamines and promiscuous fornication of the night. While Picasso and Renoir inspire a youth's ambitions, gang wars steal innocence by the handful. A wide range of choices means 48 hours to contemplate which sin to commit first. Million dollar homes and candy-apple red ferraris create a facade of happiness as they silently consummate the adultery and addictions that make them feel complete. A Montrose prostitute brushes past a local evangelist, laughing aloud as she recalls that he was last week's meal ticket. A depressed father wonders "Why me God?", thinking of yesterday's amputation, as he stares out the hospital window, seeing the unaffected world below. A cute young girl driving a Lexus, in one hand a cell phone, a drink in the other, is unaware of the cursing man in the beat-up Pinto behind her. He fingers the pistol lying in the passenger seat, as he daydreams of pointing it at the slow b_tch ahead of him and blowing her brains out. My own reality comes back to me and I realize that none of this matters to me. It's merely an observation of the Hell I drove through today.