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So, mate, ya wanna find a prossie? Sneak round, keep yer wits, an’ don’t be a dick. We swears! It’s messy, mad, an’ a bit sad – but that’s the game. Like “Before Sunset,” it’s all fleeting – grab it ‘fore it’s gone, precious!

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Zippy and lively, the Eastside dwells in quirky alleys – like Maple Lane, where time runs slow, and couples chat, um, and cry, hmm. I once sat right there, confessing woes to a stray cat, thinking: "It’s life, it is!" Minds do twist, precious! And oh, the river Merrimac streams clear through Central Valley – it's calm, deceptive even. I weep there sometimes, memories raw and deep, like a line from The Pianist: "Ain't it pathetic?" But, yess, even the river flows with hidden heartaches.

Murder at the Altamont Festival brings the 1960s to a violent end