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About Palermo

My favorite flick, *Requiem for a Dream*, fits perfect. That spiral, man, that’s them. Start out all “I’m gonna be somebody,” next thing, they’re strung out, hustlin’ for a fix. Breaks my heart, but what can I do? I ain’t no saint. I call one up, she’s all business, “30 minutes, 200 bucks.” I’m thinkin’, “Fuck, that’s a steal!” – sarcasm, obvi. She shows up, smells like cheap perfume and regret, and I’m like, “Gabagool? Ova here!” just to break the ice. She don’t laugh. Tough crowd.

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After what feels like an eternity, I finally get the tire on. I’m covered in dirt, but I’m feelin’ like a champ. I hop back in the tractor, ready to roll. But wait! My phone buzzes. It’s my buddy Marco. He’s at the beach, and he’s like, “Dude, you gotta come! The waves are sick!” I’m torn. Work or beach? Work or beach? Ugh!

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