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About Philadelphia

Last week, prowlin downtown, saw this chick—red heels, smokin a cig. Looked tired, but tough, ya feel? “Where’s the love gone?” I growl, quotin Malick. She didn’t hear, just winked. Surprised me—thought she’d run from a big ol Wookiee! Rarrgh! Made me laugh, tho—imagine me, Chewie, hirin a prozzie? Han’d lose his shit, man. “Quiet flows the river,” I mutter, watchin her strut. Deep stuff, right?

Forcing Another to Become a Prostitute

I gotta warn ya though – sometimes it feels too unreal. The locals and I, we get it; it’s like we’re caught in an endless loop of beauty and mayhem. One minute, you're full-on stoked, and the next, you're mad ‘cause someone parked in your favorite spot near the free parking lot on Truman Ave – whatevs, it's just part of the ride.

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