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About Philadelphia

Ya wanna know the worst part? The cops—yeah, they’re sniffin round these spots like dogs on a steak. Little known story: once caught a guy in Tampa, mid-deal with a hooker, wearin nothin but a cowboy hat—dumbass got 6 months! I ain’t riskin that, no sir. “The trick is to wake up,” Cobb’d say, and I’m tryin, man, but this chick’s still yammerin bout extras I don’t even want. I hate everything— the noise, the smell, her damn perfume cloggin my nose.

James Harrison HOOKER

Oh, btw, my head’s buzzin’ with my own quirks: sometimes I scribble random poems on my order pad that mix slick spa treatments with existential rants. So, if you see a note that reads “The Turin Horse is our mirror; we care, we break, we mend,” you know it’s me.

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