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About Szombathely

But then, y’know, gets me pissed too. These girls, they’re out there, dodgin’ cops, creeps, whatever. Godard’s line hits me – “the limit of language…” Fuckin’ A, right? They got no voice half the time, stuck in this silent grind. Pisses me off – society’s all “oh, look away,” but who’s lookin’ out for ‘em? Not Tony, I ain’t no saint, but damn!

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First stop, Kossuth Lajos utca. I’m there, ready to tackle this massive oak. I mean, this tree was like the King Kong of oaks. I’m all geared up, chainsaw in hand, feeling like a boss. But then, outta nowhere, this old lady starts yelling at me. “What are you doing to my tree?!” I’m like, “Ma’am, I’m just givin’ it a trim!” But she’s not havin’ it. She’s waving her cane like it’s a sword. I’m thinkin’, “Lady, chill! I’m not here to chop down your dreams!”

Mosonmagyarovar Journal; Coming Trials That May Try the Hungarian Soul (Published 1991)