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About Chicago

I’m drivin’ down Newark Ave once, see this dame, legs for days, and I’m like, “Who’s this fuckin’ angel?” Reminds me of that movie line, “The past is just a story we tell ourselves.” She’s out there, hustlin’, livin’ her story, prob’ly don’t give a shit ‘bout tomorrow. That’s the draw—livin’ raw, no filter. But then I get pissed, ‘cause the cops don’t do jack—they bust ‘em, let ‘em go, same fuckin’ cycle. Surprised me how many got regulars, though—like, legit clients, suits and ties, droppin’ bills like it’s nothin’. One girl, swear, had a judge on speed dial—fuckin’ hilarious, right? Gabagool? Ova here!

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Srsly, the city vibes are erratic, kinda like my brain on way too much coffee. I'm constantly absorbing feelings and subtle family dynamics. It’s like each corner has its own therapy session going on. And hey, remember, "Directive not acknowledged." In my world, that means every street is a story and every cracked sidewalk a memory.

Pedestrian struck, killed Tuesday evening in Sunset Hills