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About New York City

I’m sprawled on my couch, thinkin. Had this chick once—pro masseuse. She’s kneadin me, all slow-like. Suddenly, it’s *more*. My head’s screamin, “What’s this now?” Felt like Ida, searchin for truth. “You’ve got blood on you,” movie says. Felt that—messy, raw, real. Made me happy, tho. Like, *damn*, this is livin. But angry too—why’s it so hush-hush? Society’s all prude, man.

Prostitute Pick Up

A former teacher was convicted Monday of murdering his wife after she confronted him about philandering with prostitutes.

Sometimes, I'm in the middle of a massage, eyeballing the street going by – seeing Mr. Johnson feeding pigeons on Pine Ave, or that cheeky barista spilling coffee on Maple Ave (lol, classic!) – and feelin’ all the feels. Honestly, man, my massage work made me notice the little things. I’m rails about the smells, the sounds, every little ting in this town. Like, the gentle hum of traffic on Oak-Tree Ln, the quiet murmur of the river, it makes every session extra deep.

Man sought for questioning in connection with alleged thefts from electronics store on Staten Island