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About Ottawa

So, this broad, she hops in, smells like cheap perfume and regret. I’m like, “You ever feel lost, doll?” She laughs, “Every damn day, mister.” Boom, straight outta the movie, “Can you keep a secret?” I ask. She nods, I’m thinkin’, “I’m married, but who gives a fuck?” That’s me, Tony fuckin’ Soprano, breakin’ rules, feelin’ alive. But then – fuckin’ surprise – she’s got a sob story. Kid at home, ex screwed her over. I’m pissed now, “Why’s life gotta be so shitty?” I yell. She shrugs, “It just is.”

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Then there's the river that runs through town—Clearbrook River. I often sit by it after a long massage, thinkin’ about life. It burbles like the murmur of city secrets. Seriously, that sound makes me feel, like, all at once mad and happy. And oh, Happy Birthday, Mr. President! It’s like each day here is a mini celebration.

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