How Houston Is

To all the well wishers, player haters, acquaintances, family and friends who have emailed me over the last few months asking how me "How's Houston?" I now have an answer for you. Now, I've only been here four days, but this is what I have to say to you all.

Yes it is fucking hot, and yes it is humid too, but believe it or not I don't mind it. The heat just reminds me that I'm not in the woods of New York State anymore, and the humidity feels like I just walked away from the best sex of my life (I guess that's what they mean by sultry) and unlike the industrial shit stain that is Northeast Philadelphia, where I spent the beginning of my summer, there seems to always be a breeze blowing here in the Gulf, which gives the surface of your skin hope. Besides, the majority of my time is spent in central air. The only time where the power of the heat really hits me is when I first get into my car, which sort of feels like getting into an oven preheated to 350 and then turning the air conditioner on.

Houston is also exponentially cooler than I even thought it was. I'm living in a neighborhood that I thought would be a lot like the neighborhood I grew up in, Germantown, meaning that it would be a few historic houses renovated into a posthumous respectability amid a larger ghetto environment, a place where inner city dysfunction co-exists with white liberal dysfunction, and crackheads crept past porches covered in anti-war slogans and cat shit. But the neighborhood I'm subletting a house in, The Old Sixth Ward, is so much more than that. In a city with architectural amnesia, it's one of the only places that brings the past comfortably into the present. A little tropical oasis that sits improbably between an industrial rail area, downtown skyscrapers and the theater district, this odd, miniature residential neighborhood (that no one in Houston seems to know exists) is full of stunning woodwork, beautifully renovated craftsman bungalows, and people who say hi to you from their porches or to yours. Hello there.

Add to that the endless number of great bars, consignment shops, and dirt cheap modernist loft living, and having made the decision to head south seems increasingly wise. Especially since Hurricane Dean made a left turn away from hitting town (although rains and flooding last week did lead to the cancellation of our Houston Callaloo reading, oh well.)

At one time, I felt that I was living in Houston to teach at the university. But the more I walk around this town though, see what it has to offer and the people offering it, the more I think the truth might be that I'm teaching at the university to have the opportunity to live in Houston.