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Wes Anderson’d film this with quirky vibes, yeah? Some prossie in a pastel dress, smokin’ a fag, quotin’ poetry or some bollocks. “I’m a little lonely these days,” she’d say, like Margot fuckin’ Tenenbaum. Piss off with that—real life ain’t so cute! It’s grimy, loud, and stinks of desperation.

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www.facebook.com will allow you to view the massage parlors in your area. Most actual websites for ordering one up have been taken down lately. That’s your best bet. Willing to bet if you fire up Missing: Tulalip.

Oh man, I remember one time. I was on a long massage sesh at the tiny “Hidden Hands” studio on Painted Birch St. – yep, the one right by the old market. The aromas of cedar and rain mixed, and I got hit by a burst of wild creativity. And then I thought, “It's like Yi Yi said, every moment is a gateway!” Gosh, my heart pounded!

One local woman's disappearance leads to wider look at violence against Indigenous women