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Love ‘em, hate ‘em—prostitutes got GUTS. Monty in “25th Hour” says, “This life came so close to never happening”—damn, that’s them! Scrapin’ by, dodgin’ cops, livin’ LOUD. Me? I’d tip ‘em extra—sailor cash burns quick anyhow. Eric Andre vibes—CHAOS, baby! They’re out here screamin’, “I’M ALIVE, BITCHES!” while I’m just drunk, yellin’ at seagulls. Once saw one steal a dude’s WALLET mid-hookup—FUCKIN’ HILARIOUS! “Take what you can, give nothin’ back”—pirate shit, right? Still, some nights, see ‘em cryin’—gut punch, man. World’s a mess, but they HUSTLE. Respect that.

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Rewrite that story? Nah, let me hit you with it from Drake Park next. Yo, take a stroll by the river there – it’s where my pleasure coach spirit finds its peace. Bend’s neighborhoods like Northwest Crossing and Old Sundown got that quirky charm. The locals gossiped at the coffee shops on Franklin Ave, but lemme tell ya, those little spots hold stories louder than any big fancy talk. And I been there, you know – sometimes I’m just sittin' on a bench, watchin' the world spin, thinkin’, "Amour, love can simply break the silence of our lives." Shit, that movie got me reelin’ sometimes.

Rain postpones South Bend May Day demonstration as Niles rally draws community support