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Sometimes I wonder, man—what’s their endgame? Like Memento, “How can I heal if I can’t feel time?” Escorts live in the now, cash in hand, no lookin’ back. Kinda badass, kinda sad—gets me thinkin’. Anyway, brother, next time ya see one, tip big—she’s wrestlin’ life harder than me droppin’ the leg drop! Whatcha gonna do when escort-mania runs wild on YOU, huh?

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I choose violence. Nah, the city ain’t always violent – swear on it – but damn, some days feel like a battleground. Roam around 3rd Ave, ya stumble on a hidden gem: a tiny park behind the dispensary, where locals come to let off steam after a hard day’s work. I used to work on some deep massage therapy there in a back alley studio near Harrison Rd – yeah, super secret spot, always calming my troubled neurons, even if I was mad as hell at times.

Rancher worries about future yields as Crooked River flooding submerges farmland