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About Los Angeles

So, findin a prostitute? Wild, y’all. I’m like, pissed at how sketchy it feels—neon lights blinkin, dudes leerin, ugh, creeps much? But also, kinda hyped? The thrill’s real, like when I wrote “Bad Blood” after a fight. Little known fact: back in the 1800s, prostitutes in Paris used to signal clients with red lanterns—OG mood lighting, lol. Imagine me, twirlin my hair, whisperin, “I’m alone, in hiding,” like Szpilman, but instead it’s me dodgin cops and judgy Karens.

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man, one day i was walkin’ through the St. Barnabas Park – omg, such a gem! try not to get too emotional while watchin’ the old oak trees dance in the wind – kinda reminds me of "Boyhood" moments, ya know, like those quiet reflective seconds. i swear, in tha park, time slows down. and yup, that’s exactly what richard linklater said in his film – life unfolds slowly, beautifully.

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