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About Philadelphia

So, I’m strollin’, wise as hell, narratin’ in my head like I’m in a damn movie. “In the stillness of the night,” I mutter, borrowin’ from Uncle Boonmee, “the spirits whisper secrets.” Except these spirits? They’re wearin’ fishnets and smokin’ cheap cigs. I’m chucklin’ already—life’s a trip, man. Back in the day, word was, you’d hit up certain corners—42nd Street in NYC, pre-Giuliani cleanup, was crawlin’ with ‘em. Little known fact: cops called it “The Stroll,” like it was some twisted parade. Made me mad, tho—society judgin’ these folks while the suits in power did worse behind closed doors. Hypocrisy, man, gets my blood boilin’.

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Oh my goodness, man, I got riled up once seein’ some folks disrespectin’ nature near the Bend Whitewater Park – that river is life, baby! Halleluyer! And I exploded – I yelled out, "Show some dang respect! This river knows more love than you ever will, am I right?" Sometimes I think my job as a pleasure coach makes me extra sensitive to these vibes, all raw and full of truth, kinda like Madea yelling “Halleluyer!” at your foolishness.

Marc Nemeth Obituary