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About Los Angeles

Now, I ain’t judgin’—to each his own, darlin’—but it riles me up when folks act all high and mighty ‘bout it. Like, “This house is contaminated!”—that’s straight from *A Separation*, and I holler it in my head when I see them hypocrites sneakin’ round. Makes me madder’n a wet hen! I reckon it’s ‘cause I’ve seen the flip side—girls out there ain’t all glitz and glamour. Some’s just tryna eat, and that hits me right in the ticker. Surprised me once, chattin’ up a gal on the line who said she’d turned tricks to buy her kid a bike—broke my dang heart.

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Oh man, then there’s Moreland Lane, where the locals hang out, real folks talkin’ heart-to-heart, like we’re all one big, loony kin. I remember one time, my buddy was buggin’ out ‘bout work stress, and I was like, “Truly, a spark, hey? Keep on, keep on.” Stickin’ my head out the door, I’d yell, “love always finds a way!”—I sound like some old guru, haha!

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