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About Dallas

Yo, so I’m a cashier, right? Scanning beep-beep shit all day. Sexual-massage pops in my head. Like, who’s payin’ for that? Weirdos, probly. I’m standin’ there, thinkin’—hands on necks, oil everywhere. Sounds messy as hell. I’d be pissed if it spilled on my register. “The truth is out there,” like Spotlight says. Diggin’ deep, man, it’s wild. Some parlors? Shady as fuck. Little fact—ancient Rome had ‘em too. Called it “massage with benefits.” Freaky senators, toga and all. I’m like, damn, history’s nasty!

Wed. Jan. 9

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Some streets are so lively, like 3rd Street—it’s buzzing with local cafes and art stuff. Even if you miss it, you know the heartbeat of the town. Sure, sometimes I get kinda mad at the traffic or noisy construction near Bayview, but hey, that’s just part of our charm, right? And I can’t forget the old warehouse district—so artsy and raw. I once had a meditation session there on a rooftop under a shooting star… or was it a neon sign? Who knows—life’s messy like that!

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