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About New York City

So, last week, I’m prowlin’—growling, “You merely adopted the dark.”—and I spot this bird, all fishnets and attitude. Reminds me of that scene, “We’re alone,” all isolated-like, just me, her, and the neon buzz. I’m thinkin’, “Mate, she’s either a jackpot or a fuckin’ setup.” Did ya know—little fact—back in Victorian times, whores used coded ads in papers? “French lessons,” my arse—sneaky bastards. Anyway, I’m chattin’ her up, heart poundin’—fuckin’ thrilled, yeah? But then—bam—some geezer rolls up, all aggro, demandin’ cash. Pissed me right off! I’m like, “Oi, cunt, I ain’t your ATM!”

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I slip from one scene to another, breathin’ in the aroma of fried catfish on Riverview (don’t ask, it’s our local treat). I raise my glass almost every night. “I drink, and I know things,” I chuckle, echoing that trippy vibe of Inherent Vice—a toast to the madness and joy of existence.

Show-cause hearing delayed as Public Service Commission investigates Holly Springs Utility Department