COMMENT OF THE DAY: WHAT HOUSTON SMELLS LIKE “Ahhhh . . . the eau du Houston: a heady combination of ground level ozone, sewer methane, burnt coffee aroma (when the breeze/wind is blowing from EaDo), combined with various other odoeurs ranging from the slightly offensive to the occasional sweet smell of some heavily perfumed flower/tree/shrub . . .” [Patrick, commenting on The Sweet Smell of Houston History] Illustration: Lulu
That’s not urine that you smell downtown, it’s hobo honeysuckle.
What about the smell of Azaleas, Magnolia’s, Star Jasmine–etc—Houston gets enough negative Press about the Petrochemical Plants, that ironically have always fueled the engine that has made the city the economic envey of the world–think about that the next time you smell a Plant, and seriously dude, stop and smell the flowers and quit bitching
Must have been a slow day at Swanplot to make this hate letter to Houston the Comment of the Day–Come on Gus, aim higher or I might start a Houston Curbed.
Shannon, I agree this wouldn’t win a comment of the day of the year award, but there is no irony in the oil in gas industry powering the local economy but also creating a horribly polluted living environment. The full significance of people living here is very well understood – economic opportunities but also pollution, increased cancer, heart attacks and asthma. The audience gets that. Irony is when a character in the play says “that is prosperity you smell, not pollution.”
Is that smell in EaDo burnt coffee? When I lived there, I always described it as “dumpster chocolate”
Ian: Yes, the Maxwell House factory is on Harrisburg. Can smell that stuff for miles downwind.
I Smelled Stuff
25 April Friday afternoon,
Rode my bike to Rice Village
Seeking Guinness and poon;
‘Twas an adventure of smells,
An olfactory marvel, Spring casting spells…
I smelled: fresh mowed grass,
Dog doo, gutter goo, jasmine and sassafras,
Chicken and burgers, steaks on the grill,
And something dead – maybe road kill;
Car exhaust, pollen, maybe honeysuckle,
Sniffing these wonders, I giddily chuckle;
I watch svelte girls jog on pebbled path,
In sexy rhythm they’re cruising fast-
Fluid stride, short shorts, and legs long-
Watching their grace I get heavy schlong;
At the pub called Ginger Man
I asked for Guinness (not in a can!),
And smelled old wood, stale beer, and some Betty’s perfume-
Hint of lily, vanilla, something earthy- like mushroom;
I talk with professors, punks. and cute gash
Discussing pedophile priests, sunk oil rigs, volcanic ash,
Then take a piss – smells like asparagus -and scratch my ass;
Anyway, you get my drift, you’ve heard enough-
On a nice Spring evening… I like smelling stuff.