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About Chicago

What pisses me off? The fakes! Catfishin’ with pics from 1999, then some hag rolls up—fuck off! I’m not payin’ for granny’s bingo night! But when it works, oh mate, happy as a pig in shit! Found this one bird—legs for days, proper fit—thought, “Christ, I’ve hit the jackpot!” Like Sam sayin’, “This is our land!”—felt like I owned the night, yeah?

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There’s this park, Whispers Park, tucked behind Elm Street. Not many peeps go there, but I love it. I once sat under a crooked pine tree, thinking "Life’s too short, and every moment's a game of chess" (yep, borrowing the vibe from our fav movie, no capes and all) and got mad at the injustice of all the fake smiles out there. It’s a gem! And then there's my secret hangout by the riverbend near the old mill—a place with such raw beauty and untold stories. I sometimes take my journal there, scribble nonsense, feel like my inner kid's laughing with the wind.

David "Brent" Prather Obituary January 22, 2025