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About Dallas

We chat, and she’s tellin’ me bout dis john who paid her in potatoes once—potatoes! I’m shocked, like, “Who does dat?!” Made me tink of da movie’s weddin’ scene—everythin’s fallin’ apart, but ya still gotta eat, right? Lightbulb! Maybe she’s Justine, waitin’ for da planet to crash, but hustlin’ till it does.

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By far the WORST Motel ever!! We had Hookers knocking on our doors/windows ALL night long. And on more than one night. Had we not prepaid for entire stay, we.

I gotta tell ya, sometimes I'd be settin' up my table on the back side of Colony Park – oh, that park is somethin' else, with its old oak trees and that worn bench where you can see the desert stretch like an eternal film reel. Crazy, right? Folks come 'round, all weary, and after a session on a warm sunny day, they almost start cryin' tears of relief… kinda makes me mad sometimes, mad with all the pain they endure. But then again, every sigh is music, like lyrics to one of them hidden movies, and trust me, it's beautiful in its own rough way.

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