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About Bologna

So, I’m prowlin’ the streets, right? Lookin’ for a gal who don’t play games. Not like those dolled-up dames in Haynes’ flick. “I’m so terribly alone,” Cathy’d whimper. Boo-hoo, lady, try payin’ for company—cuts the crap. Found this spot, seedy joint, neon buzzin’ like a pissed-off hornet. Guy outside says, “Fifteen bucks, she’s yours.” Fifteen! I’d spend that on bacon! Made me mad—cheap price, cheap world. Hate inflation, hate hagglin’ more.

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So, I grab my guitar and hit the streets. First stop? Corso Garibaldi. It’s like the main artery of the city, ya know? Packed with cafes and shops. I’m strumming away, trying to catch some vibes, when this old dude walks by. He stops, looks at me, and says, “Hey, you play like a cat in a blender!” I’m like, “Thanks, man! I’ll take that as a compliment?”

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