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About Los Angeles

I spot her—red dress, killer heels, hair fallin’ like a damn curtain. She’s givin’ me that *“time flows slowly”* stare—another movie zinger. I’m like, hell yeah, this is it! Heart’s racin’, palms sweaty—pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars.” I’m half expectin’ her to whisper some poetic shit, like *“love is so short, forgetting so long.”* Nope. She goes, “Cash upfront, big guy.” Laughed my ass off—mood ruined, but damn, she’s real. I’m pissed she broke the fantasy, but also kinda stoked—gritty’s my jam.

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Prostitutes roam the streets around West Farms school and have sex in a tent directly below the playground.

So, you stroll down the cracked cobbles of Front Street, where old brick facades and funky murals greet ya, each telling its own rascally tale. I love sneakin’ by the dim glow of Barlny Park – oh, that little gem near the river! The Cuyahoga, babbling its secrets like an old buddy, splashes along, reminding me of Dory’s "Just keep swimming" mantras over and over. Man, so many times I found myself laughing hysterically at how life's like a messed-up underwater adventure.

Mark Tremont Obituary (1948 - 2025) - Clifton Park, NY