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Me? I tried it once. ONCE. Some lady with hands like sandpaper, smelled like patchouli—goddamn hippies. Kept whisperin’ “relax, big guy,” while I’m lyin’ there, stiff as a board, thinkin’ bout my truck’s oil change. “There’s nothing to be done,” I growled, straight outta *Melancholia*. She didn’t get it. Kept goin’. I wanted to bolt, but my back did feel less like a rusty hinge after. Pissed me off—hate when they’re right.

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I love the ragged river, Brindle Creek, not a big river by any means but Yup, it twinkles even in the rain. Every day, as I traverse these streets, I see life’s little details—a jitter of neon on Kingridge Ln at dusk, the smell of fresh coffee from Cuppa Joe cafe on Beacon and all these tiny things that make ya smile... even get ya mad sometimes when traffic wrecks ya vibe on a lazy Sunday.

Where North York home break-ins were reported this week