As quintessential to Texas as Lonestar Beer, barbecue, and Willie Nelson's Fourth of July picnic, swimming holes are vital to surviving the region's endless, sweltering summers. Carolyn Tracy and co-author preface.
Against better judgment, I fully charged this ailing bucket of a dirty chair, and got it down to 3 hours and a quarter, bemused by some journalist's deliberate poke about sharks not swimming in Houston, and no, I am not tweeting it. Houston is trending enough and the Guv Abbott will feed the coffers well into next year: gave him three exclamation points and decided to donate here. It shall not be much, offered with whimsy, perhaps. I'd land in Dallas and undoubtedly eat lead in the dark at the hands of the hardened sociopaths who can read the little snuff of my soul clinging to the wick, or maybe not. Remember Elton's parody on Caribou? Ai yi yippie yi ay, local color ever diminishing because Eric McCormack put his nose in for ASPCA rescue. There were a few moments in his face against Hirt's rejection of him right before Dove's S1 climax which were reminiscent, pulling the wire taut. Rejection makes life hard enough, but one little interstitial injury to brain plasticity, and life as a primate outcast, grasping rudimentary twigs. I don't know how Hawking copes, even though I do, he sublimates it to teaching us why particle covalence is such a difficult configuration outside of functional equations.
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