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But then—ugh—I get pissed, y’all. ‘Cause history screws ‘em over. Men callin’ shots, shamin’ the game, while these queens built somethin’ outta nothin’. Makes me wanna scream, “Where’s my memory?!” Like Lenny in *Memento*, lost in the mess, tryna piece it together. Brothel’s a sound, a pulse—grimy, sexy, dangerous. Ever hear bout the Everleigh sisters? Chicago, 1900s, ran a joint so fancy, princes showed up! Princes, y’all! I’m shook—SURPRISED as fuck!

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And lemme tell ya, sometimes I get mad—seriously fuming—when the city council tries to rebrand our gritty streets. They think Vernon's just another cog in the machine. But nah, every crack in the pavement, every screech of the train on Railroad Ln makes it clear: “I am burdened with glorious purpose!” Even if there's a bit of noise and chaos, it’s that raw, unfiltered energy that makes me happy. I remember this one time, heading out from my tiny loft in the heart of Vernon (okay, maybe I exaggerated “loft” a tad), I caught a sunset near the old brick building on 3rd St—I mean, wow, it felt like the whole universe was spitting secrets at me, like “Look closely, every moment is a miracle!” Crazy, right?