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About Dallas

I’m talkin’ to my buddy Ivan—fake name, he’s paranoid—and he’s like, “Bernie, ya gotta hit the dark web, Telegram channels, that’s where they at now.” I’m pissed, man! Why’s it gotta be so damn complicated? Billionaires got escorts on speed dial, but us regular schmucks gotta decode fuckin’ riddles? “Hang me, oh hang me,” I’m singin’ in my head, feelin’ like Llewyn, lost as shit. I dig the hustle though—makes me happy seein’ folks outsmart the system. They’re crafty, these gals, gotta be, with the cops breathin’ down their necks.

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I’ve had days where Atlantic got me feelin’ on top o’ the world. Others left me madder than a wet hen. But each twist, turn, and street corner holds stories, memories, and laughter. In this city, every alley, every stumble, every lost sock tells ya somethin’.

This Is the Way a World Order Ends