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About Dallas

Mr. T’s seen it all, sucka! Walked downtown once, shady streets—pimps eyeballin’ me. Felt like Saul, lost in Auschwitz, “Where’s the rabbi?!” But here it’s, “Where’s the chick?!” Found one—Legs up to her neck! She’s smokin’ hot, but I’m thinkin’, “Man, this ain’t no picnic.” Cost me fifty bucks—fifty! Back in ’85, that was lunch money! Inflation’s a punk, I swear.

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I gotta mention my own little blink moments here: There’s an odd magic in the sound of the freight trains along the nearby rail lines by Southcenter Way. Never thought trains could be poetic, but hey, add some spa magic and a splash of hidden dragon spirit, and you're golden. I'm not sayin' I'm some enlightened guru, but every detail tells a story. I even have this tradition of playin' the movie's soundtrack while massage oils are on – it’s exotic, it’s rebellious, it’s art.

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