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About Sapporo

So, yeah, I’m ramblin’, but—whore’s personal to me. Had a pal, big shot producer, whored his art for fame. Broke my heart. Happy? Nah, furious! He’d grin, “Larry, it’s the biz!”—bullshit. Like Georges in *Amour*, holdin’ Anne’s hand, knowin’ it’s over—he whored his fight for peace. Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But it stings, don’t it?

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Then, I wander over to the Saijo City Hall. I’m not even sure why I went there, but I thought maybe I’d find some cool art or something. Instead, I find a bunch of bored-looking bureaucrats. Ugh, talk about a buzzkill. I’m trying to be all cultured, and they’re just staring at their screens. I’m like, “Dude, it’s a beautiful day outside! Get a life!”

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