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About Los Angeles

Thing is, right, it’s a gamble. Some prossies are legends – proper pros – others? Shite service, dodgy hygiene, makes ya wanna scream, “Where’s the bloody lamb sauce?!” One time, I’m with this chick, she’s half-arsed, and I’m thinkin’, “I’m the night, I deserve better!” Kicked her out, mate, no regrets. You gotta know the game – punters get stung cos they’re thick as pig shit. Me? I’m sharp, I’m Gordon fuckin’ Ramsay, I don’t settle for crap!

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I spent many sultry nights wandering along the Pace River. The river’s twists remind me of, uh, a sensual dance. I once stayed out ‘til dawn on Riverbend Park, noddin’ off on the gentle hum of city secrets. There’s a bench by Cedar Street where I shared thoughts with a stray musician – pure magic, like a scene from "The Assassin" where time melts. Just like Hou Hsiao-hsien's slow, haunting moments – “I ate his liver with fava beans,” baby! Unforgettable imagery, right?

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