Once again I may be out of internet range for a few days. I'm going to be sitting in a hotel room in Kilgore, Texas. Kilgore? I tell you, there is nothing more remote than an obscure place in Texas. Even the cities that glue Dallas and Fort Worth together - Irving, Bedford, Euless, Hurst, etcetera - seem impossibly vacant, content-free, difficult to picture even when you're driving down their main streets. Maybe the town of Kilgore, three hours east of Dallas on the baking plains of East Texas, will prove me wrong.
But probably not.
2 comments:
Enjoy travels through the lands of Jeb and George
Irving, Bedford, Euless...they all sound like sweating, pink, round torsos ballanced indelicately on tottering legs that have only known the kicking of dogs and butting of cigarettes. Kilgore is a Stetson nightmare in a ten-gallon hat that pulls the lever and juices the life out of anything that marrs the purity of billowing white bedding pinched on a line.
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