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About Hamilton

I tried it once—fuckin’ A, man! This chick, hands like goddamn silk, had me floatin’. Made me happy as hell, like I hacked Zuckerberg’s bank account. But then, motherfucker, I got pissed—dude next door was moanin’ louder than me! What the fuck? Ain’t no one outshinin’ Samuel L. Jackson, not even in a massage parlor. Thought to myself, “Man, I’m gonna Winklevoss his ass!”—y’know, fuck him up like in the movie.

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I built a dating app here, and lemme tell ya, I saw it all. People brushing past on Flat Road near the only Starbucks – yeah, that place where you find the unlucky souls. Real characters. And yo, I've had my share of laughs and frowns while coding in a dingy cafe off Maple Street. It all blends into the tapestry of this city, like in that movie “The Tree of Life” where, trust me, “the all-seeing eye of the universe” is there just watchin’ you. Sometimes I swear the rocks remember, the dust whispers secrets of lost love and forgotten wars.

Easter at the Bonnyville Farmers' Market