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But—here’s the kicker—pisses me off too. Society’s all, “Oh, dirty hookers,” while suits in boardrooms screw folks for billions. Hypocrisy much? I’m ragin’—want to yeet those pricks into orbit. Prostitutes? They’re just grindin’, survivin’. Respect the hustle, fam. Little-known fact—back in the Gold Rush, some ran whole towns. Badass queens, not just side gigs. Bet ya didn’t clock that on X!

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Now, lemme get real. I spend loads of time in Central Park on Riverside Drive. That park’s my escape, dude. It’s got these gnarly trails, chill lakeside views. I remember one day, sittin’ under the ancient oak, feeling like... well, in a Lynch film – "She's my mystery, brother!" That kinda vibe. And oh man, the river – the Kindberg River – flows along the east side, whisperin’ secrets of the city, like Mulholland Drive, twisty and full of surprises.