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But fuck, it pissed me off too—saw her once with a black eye, some asshole didn’t pay and got rough. Wanted to gut him, ya know, serve his liver with a nice Chianti. Surprised me how she kept goin, tough as nails. Little known fact: back in Victorian times, prostitutes used to carry knives—self-defense, man, they weren’t messin round. Ruby prolly had one too, hidin in that tacky purse of hers.

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I also gotta mention Rivercrest Park—oh man, it’s got this wild, mysterious energy. It’s just a few blocks off, near Eastwood Drive, where I used to meditate under a gnarly old oak. Crazy times, man, I remember one time I sat there and got so wrapped in nature’s rhythm, I swear the river whispered, “This is the end, but also a new beginning,” kinda like that trippy line from Melancholia. I got mad at times, too, when noisy construction near the park disturbed the peace; like, seriously, make it chill already! But then I’d pop on some tunes, take a deep breath, and let it slide, cuz life’s too short to sweat every damn thing.

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