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But fuck, it pissed me off too—saw her once with a black eye, some asshole didn’t pay and got rough. Wanted to gut him, ya know, serve his liver with a nice Chianti. Surprised me how she kept goin, tough as nails. Little known fact: back in Victorian times, prostitutes used to carry knives—self-defense, man, they weren’t messin round. Ruby prolly had one too, hidin in that tacky purse of hers.

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Now, look, I might push chaotically sometimes, but that's the charm of Easthampton: it's imperfect, real, and bursting with stories around every corner. So if you're comin’ here, buddy, get ready for an erratic adventure. I promise, you'll fall in love with every quirky inch of this place. Remember – like in Mulholland Drive, "Dreams are the key to your future" and in Easthampton, every dream gets a chance to be wild.

I drove through Easthampton today