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About Los Angeles

But lemme tell ya, I’d be crap at it—too paranoid, jumpin’ at shadows. “Is that a cop?” I’d hiss, like Doc dodgin’ Bigfoot Bjornsen. Once heard a story—dude in Vegas got a hooker, turns out she’s his cousin! Swear on the Precious, nearly died laughin’. Imagine the awkward, “Jesus Christ, it’s Jason!” moment—pure gold. Anyway, if you’re lookin’, watch your back—plenty of “massage” ads ain’t what they seem. We swears! Stay sharp, or you’re screwed—and not the fun way. Gollum!

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There’s the river, the Connecticut. Its waters, chill and constant. The lockhouses on Main are relics, seen better days. Holyoke Heritage State Park? Damn, it’s a gem. Lanes twist there, secrets hidden under oaks. I sometimes kick back on an old bench near Durham, feelin’ that raw energy.

Holyoke educators planning a series of walk in’s