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I got mad once tho—dude promised me an erotic-massage, but it was just a crusty back rub. I was like, “Boy, bye!” Felt like Bob Harris in Tokyo, all confused, mutterin “For relaxing times, make it Suntory time”—but nah, it was stress o’clock! Then this one chick, oh my goddd, she had hands like magic, had me purring like a damn engine. I was shook—happy as hell, like “Why don’t we do this every night?” Straight outta the movie, fam!

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There’s a hum of life at the local art museum on Main St., dontcha know? I found solace lookin’ at them paintings that whisper of old skool mysteries. Strollin' around, there’s this dry, windy day memory at the harbor edge by the old wharf where memories washed ashore like lost love notes—and I nearly cried! Man, them days had me so moved, almost like in "The Assassin," "We hates it! but we loves it!" repeated in that echo.

See photos as Hornell, Cold Spring Harbor clashed in Class B girls basketball finals