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Oh, and get this—little known fact: back in the ‘80s, Jersey had these “escort agencies” frontin’ as massage joints. Cops knew, didn’t care—took payoffs! History’s freakin’ hilarious. Me, I’d be like, “Yo, officer, want a rubdown?” Sarcasm’s my thing, keeps me sane. Anyway, sex escorts—they’re like us, just playin’ roles, buildin’ little worlds. Ain’t perfect, but who is? Gabagool? Ova here! Whaddya think, huh?

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I dig the back alleys near Fray’s Lane. Quaint, offbeat cafes and odd little spots, where people smile, and religions of art line the corners. A giddy mix. "Call me a coward, you know" from that Andrew Dominik line spins in my head. It’s like a treasure hunt every day, a joy ride of calm and chaos.

Interview: “Winter Sports Storm” features racing and more