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But real talk—it’s a hustle that pisses me off sometimes. Dudes out here actin reckless, no protection, no respect—like, bruh, you tryna die? YOLO, sure, but don’t be dumb! I seen some shady cats roll up, thinkin they run the game, and I’m like, “You don’t know me, you don’t know my life!” Surprised me how bold they get—once saw a guy haggle like it’s a car lot, had me dyin laughin but also like, damn, that’s cold.

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Stayed for one night then ran away. Not a place for families at all. Lots of noise and partying. Drunk people and hookers everywhere.

Now, y’know, I always wander near the Seaside River. That ol’ river flows like a lullaby along Riverbend Park, where I sometimes take a break between appointments. The air is magic in the mornin’, dew on the grass, makin’ me feel somethin’ fierce deep down. And lemme spill a secret — my parlor is near Bluebell Ave. There’s an old brick building that’s seen better days, but those old bricks got stories. Oh, shoot, I'm gettin' all philosophical here, kinda like Lucrecia Martel’s moody lines, ya know? “I feel like I’m floatin’,” kinda vibe, but with a twist of Dr. Phil wisdom.

Seaside enforces 7 p.m. curfew for unaccompanied minors during Fourth of July