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About Phoenix

What pisses me off? The stench. Gods, it’s like that bathhouse in the movie—sweaty, grimy, makes ya gag. But what got me happy? Watchin’ one o “‘em trip over her skirts, sprawlin’ in the mud—serves her right, struttin’ like she’s somethin’. Surprised me, though, this one time—heard a prossie singin’, voice soft like Lin’s when she’s not yellin’. Caught me off guard, almost felt… somethin’. Then I remembered who I am. Screw that.

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The neighborhoods? Man, they’re the soul of Garland. There's Eastside, where the energy flows like wild rap verses. I once got so hyped, rushed through 3rd and Maple, struck up a chat with a local who dropped the craziest old-school tales that made me laugh till my sides hurt. And then there's West End, quiet but deep, like, real introspective. It’s where I had one of my biggest "aha" moments in life – I was strolling near Birch Ln, thinking, "I am dream," that wild human vibe from Mulholland Drive.

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