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About Catania

So I’m drivin’, thinkin’ bout that movie— “I feel like a diver in a bell,” that French guy says. Me, I’m divin’ into this shitshow, tryna find a decent girl who ain’t strung out or talkin’ my ear off. Last week, I pick one up—cute, red hair, legs for days. She hops in, smells like cheap perfume and regret. I’m happy for a sec, like, “Fuck yeah, jackpot!” Then she starts yappin’— “My ex this, my pimp that.” I’m like, “Sweetheart, I ain’t your therapist, let’s keep this transactional!” Surprised me how they always got a sob story. Guess it’s part of the gig.

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We’re chatting, laughing, and then—boom! A street performer starts playing the accordion. It’s like a scene from a movie. I’m feeling all the vibes. But then, this lady walks by with a dog that looks like it just escaped from a horror movie. I’m not kidding. It’s all scruffy and has one eye. I’m trying not to laugh, but I can’t help it.

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