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So I spot her—red heels, smokin’ a cig—total pro. “What’s a girl to do?” she purrs, like Cathy cryin’ to Frank. I’m laughin’—she’s playin’ me, and I’m here for it! Gave me a rush—happy as a clown in a bank vault. But then—BAM—some creep jumps in, tryin’ to haggle her down. Pissed me off! I’m like, “Buddy, this ain’t a flea market!” Almost knifed him—oops, too far? Heh.

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I dig the old park near Vogelwiese. Sprawlin', choked with whispers of the past. I even saw a stray cat once there—funny critter, runnable as heck—and I thought, "All things are one." Can't say enough about that. That park's a real cuddle of love and pain, just like my sessions sometimes get (and trust me, they often do).