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So, I’m picturin’ it—some dimly lit room, oil everywhere, slippery as hell. You’re lyin’ there, like, “Am I relaxed or aroused? Both? Neither?” It’s confusin’! I’d be a wreck—neurotic mess, me, Larry freakin’ David! I’d yell, “Too much pressure! Not enough pressure!” The masseuse’d hate me. But that’s the gig—sexual-massage walks this tightrope, y’know? Little known fact: back in ancient China, they called it “yin-yang touch”—balancin’ energies or whatever. Sounds fancy, but it’s still hands on your junk!

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Man, let me tell ya 'bout the downtown streets – they snare your senses like a goddamn dream! College Street, for instance, pulses with life. And fuck, Queen Mary, the city ain't shy in throwin' culture around. The vibe reminds me, ya know, of those poetic lines in "Syndromes and a Century": “Time is a river…” – motherf**er, that shit sinks deep.

More probation for man who breached probation order by possessing drugs