The Eyes of Texas

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(The Real) Football
No pretty boys. No crying to the refs. No falling to the ground with the slightest bit of contact.
No nancy boys.
Football.
Not Soccer.
Sometimes i just dont know what to wriet ei i get so confused and misxed up madness with my fingers
Apparently I’m the only one concerned with the perpetual creek of “mystery waste” running between the tracks of the NYC subway.

No pretty boys. No crying to the refs. No falling to the ground with the slightest bit of contact.
No nancy boys.
Football.
Not Soccer.
“I have said that Texas is a state of mind, but I think it is more than that. It is a mystique closely approximating a religion. And this is true to the extent that people either passionately love Texas or passionately hate it and, as in other religions, few people dare to inspect it for fear of losing their bearings in mystery or paradox. But I think there will be little quarrel with my feeling that Texas is one thing. For all its enormous range of space, climate, and physical appearance, and for all the internal squabbles, contentions, and strivings, Texas has a tight cohesiveness perhaps stronger than any other section of America. Rich, poor, Panhandle, Gulf, city, country, Texas is the obsession, the proper study and the passionate possession of all Texans.” -John Steinbeck