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Reminds me of Monty’s line, “Champagne wishes, caviar dreams”—that’s their pitch. All fake, glittery crap. I’d rather chop wood than pay for that. Once heard a story—guy hired an escort, she robbed him blind. Left him with his pants down, literally. Laughed my ass off. Idiots deserve it. Hate the whole game, but damn, it’s funny when it flops.

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I take a stroll sometimes at Lakeside Park. The park’s got a feeling like a secret hideaway. Trees, a lil creek, and benches where you can cry or laugh your troubles away. I once had a client tell me, “It’s like the music of the night just sweeps you off your feet!” I nearly cried, y’know? That moment made me mad that good feels are so few sometimes, but happy knowing I’m part of it.

Retracing Our Roots: Tragedy and Triumphs of Wallace Knob