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Little known fact, tho—back in the 90s, before apps, folks used newspaper ads for hookups. Called ‘em “personal columns.” Horny losers writin’, “Man seeks woman, no strings, must like cats.” Imagine the balls it took! No pics, just vibes. Now we got dick pics flyin’ left n’ right—progress, huh? Makes me laugh, but also kinda pissed. Where’s the mystery? Everybody’s oversharin’. “We’re gonna find out who did this,” like the *Spotlight* team, but in sex-dating, it’s more like, “Who’s gonna screw me over next?”

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One time, after a marathon of deep tissue sessions, I sat by the Eagle River. Drinking my coffee—okay, sometimes two, three cups!—and thinking, “I can change you yet, I can fix you.” That’s some Under the Skin feels right there, layered and strange. But that river? Always remindin’ me of life’s flow. Not to get too philosophical, but it’s true.

Friends, family of Jackson Davis gather at Gypsum park for Friday vigil to honor his life