I should by the way before I go too far into Shitsville explain that I had been bumming around the State for quite some time using a road map to choose the places that sounded like the most lonely outposts of the world. I found for instance one long straight road into a section of blue-grey (which denotes uninhabitable flat bare lands) called Lone Pine Road and from that godlike distance one could perceive all of the solipsistic journeying of the human soul down an avenue which after umpteen dreary miles comes to a dismal end; a trail no one would rightly choose to take, except for that lone tall pine mangy like a moulting dog, with twenty years of pine needles a-wastin at its feet and killing off all of the grassland around it, signifying nothing. Actually there are a lotta Lone Pine Roads in Texas; Lone Pine Lane (Fort Worth) was a paved suburban vista of single storey houses all with oblique oblong cream-coloured garage doors, all picked from the same page in the same catalogue, and his-and-hers cars parked endearingly like dogs up each other’s rears in the drive, which made all those clean cream garage doors superfluous in the last analysis. The lawn out front was bare, dried, brown-and-beige, patched the same as the brickwork; an equally superfluous violently green garden house hangs off the dried-out fence in preparation to water the shrubs that do not exist there or combat low grass fires where there is no grass, if indeed, there is even a tap. If I’ve learnt anything in Texas it’s that there’s a reference point for everything and all of this depressing suburban architecture is nothing out-of-the-ordinary and would not look out of place in Rowville (Victoria, Australia), or Sunbury or anywhere equally depressing. The Dallas Tabulating Institute looked a damn lot like my dentist’s place in Dandenong.