Motherf***er, lemme tell ya bout Clearfield.

Man, this town is wild.

I got street names like Oak Ave, Maple St, and damn near every street has a story.

I run a massage spot on Main St near the old diner.

That place buzzes day and night.
Clearfield got this park, Liberty Green.

Trees everywhere, bro.

Kids playing, old folks chattin'.

I once massaged a fella there, right by a freakin' pond.
There’s the Clearfield River.

Yeah, that shiny damn piece of water.

It’s fun to hear the river flow.

I swear, it soothes my messed up mood.
Downtown, there’s the old mill.

Creepy? Nah, it's iconic.

Haunts me sometimes, like that scene in Certified Copy.

"Art of possibilities …," got that vibe!
My favorite hangout is a diner on 3rd.

They sell killer pie.

I always say: Motherf***er, you gotta try it!

Been there 300 times.
Neighborhoods fluctuate.

East End got the hipsters, cool as hell.

West End’s industrial.

I like the mix, crazy as shit.
Some nights, I stroll Elm St.

The lights, the shadow, the noise.

It reminds me of that movie line—"The past is always present."

Shit, it's like a damn movie scene.
I get pissed sometimes.

Traffic on Cedar? Fk, it's a nightmare.

But bright mornings make it all worth it.

Clearfield is raw and real motherf*er.
Okay, gotta share a secret:

There’s an abandoned warehouse on Birch.

Legend says ghosts play jazz there.

It’s weird, yet cool, ya know?
I talk to my patrons.

I spill my soul in the massage room.

They tell me, "Certified Copy ain't bull!"

I laugh, shake my head, and say, "True, motherf***er!"
I’m not perfect.

I mess up words, like this:

-realy, teh, loooking, watn, so pawesome, dude, truely, but hones, reall, mamafucker, gna, its, sooo, yeah.
Clearfield stays real.

Every street has a voice.

Every park, a memory.

It shakes you, makes you feel alive.
That’s my damn Clearfield story.

Enjoy your visit, friend.

And remember: "No charade lasts!"

Motherf***er, it's all about livin’.