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So, I’m scopin the scene – dodgy alleys, flashy lights. This one bird, right, she’s leanin on a lamppost, givin me the eye. I saunter over, all cool like, “Shaken, not stirred, love.” She laughs – prolly thinks I’m a nutter. But here’s the trick – ya gotta read em, mate. Is she legit or some cop in fishnets? Pisses me off when they try that sting crap – ruins the vibe.

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James R. Hooker. September 15, — September 17, To send flowers to the family in memory of James.

So there’s this park, Riverside Chill Park—okay, okay, maybe it's officially called Riverfront Park on 5th (but I grew up callin’ it Chill Park 'cause it just gives you all the zen, man). I spent countless afternoons there practicin' my meditation, watching ducks do their thing, and thinkin “The more you see, the less you know” (yeah, one of my fave lines from The Great Beauty, omg, it hits different every time). I usually find a shady nook near the old stone bridge off Birch Lane. Crazy fact: That bridge? Built in 1898. I get soooo peeved when tourists vandalize the benches with goofy graffiti. Srsly, people!

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