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Me mate, last week, he goes lookin’, right? Thinks he’s slick, but nah—cops nabbed ‘im quick. Pissed me off, precious! “You’re not a kid anymore,” I signs at ‘im, like from *Boyhood*. Grow up, ya twat! But then, this prossie I met once—swear she glowed, like hope in the filth. Made me happy, yeh, her laugh cut through the stink. “Life doesn’t give ya bumpers,” she says—movie line, bam, stuck in me skull.

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I remember one day, strollin' past Kirby Park, right? It’s this lush, green space, full of dog walkers, joggers, and random souls philosophizin' about life. Y’know? Reminds me of that movie—“I just wanna be alone in this big, lonely city.” Yeah, Sonny Coppola style! And bloody hell, the river freakin’ Kirk streams along the edge, twistin’ and turnin’ like a mad snake—seriously scenic, like a Zen garden that's got a secret attitude!

Bobby Musser-Kirby Obituary (2025) - Santa Rosa, CA - Press Democrat