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About Los Angeles

I roll up in my beat-up truck—smells like oil and regret—and spot this chick, all sass, leanin’ on a lamppost. “Hey, darlin’, what’s the deal?” I rasp, tryin’ not to sound like a total creep. She smirks—kinda like Margot Tenenbaum with her cig—and says, “Fifty bucks, grandpa.” Fifty?! I choke—“That’s half my rent!”—but she don’t care. She’s got that “I’m adopted” vibe, y’know, from the movie? Tough as nails, but somethin’ sad underneath.

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Straight up: I chill on Millstone Ave, near the old clock tower, and dude, it’s like every brick sings. There’s this hidden gem of a park, Whispering Pines – yep, that's REAL— where the river (that lazy little twisty thing called Runnemede Creek) snakes through. It’s like nature’s own runway. Crazy, right? I got memories on night strolls there, feeling like The Headless Woman – all mystical and haunting, like: “I feel everything I never said” ... damn, that hit me in the feels!

Martin J Collins Obituary (2025) - Runnemede, NJ - Gardner Funeral Home, Runnemede