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About Phoenix

Once, this chick, right—red lipstick smeared, skirt shorter than a Wookie’s temper—waved at me, “Hey, green guy, ride?” Laughed, I did, “A Jedi craves not these things!” But curious, I was—drove slow, peeked. She yelled, “20 creds, best night ever!” Tempted? Nah, but funny as hell, it was. “You think you’re some kind of Jedi?”—Cronenberg line, popped in my head. Violence, sex, all tangled up, y’know?

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

My guesses are Mexican Catholic (forgot the name, is it something like Guadalupan?), Sahasrara, Gnarlist, Conclavist, Revelationist, Mormom, and Remembrant.

I work as a relaxation specialist. I notice tiny details: when a breeze ruffles the leaves on Curtis St., or when kids bop on sidewalks near the old mill. I feel it all. This city is my canvas—even the rough days, like when my yoga class was disrupted by a stray dog or a loud construction, got me mad as heck. But then again, life's a roller coaster.

Jenkins guilty on all counts, to serve four life sentences