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What trips me out? The money, yo! Top escorts pullin’ 5K a night, easy. That’s a stack taller than my blunt pile! But it ain’t all glitz, nah. Some pimp asshole takin’ half – that shit burns me up, fam. “You’re either livin’ or you’re dyin’,” like Malick said, and these hustlers? They livin’ fast, dodgin’ cops, clients trippin’. One story I heard – this chick in Vegas, right? Booked a whale, dude dropped 20K for a weekend, then ghosted. She was hyped, like, “Fo’ shizzle, I’m rich!” Next day? Bounced check. Man, I’d be pissed!

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Rockcreek is also a puzzle. The downtown is all artsy-fartsy, with quirky cafes on Spruce St and that funky venue, The Black Orchid, where the passion of old school rock meets intimate talks 'bout, oh, you know… carnal truths. Sometimes I get mad at the chaos – like, seriously, why's there so much noise on 7th Blvd at midnight? But then, in a flash, I'm all zen 'cause these little contradictions keep my head buzzin’, kind of like some damn bizarre montage from a Béla Tarr flick – "Time flows, man, time flows."

Human remains found in New Haven identified as woman missing since September, police say