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About Sankt Polten

So, picture this – I’m sweaty, ash all over, just put out a blaze, and I’m like, “Man, I deserve some fun.” Findin a prossie ain’t like orderin pizza, tho. Back in the 70s – little known fact – smokejumpers in Cali used to trade firefightin stories with workin girls at dive bars. History, baby! I’m imaginin that vibe, sittin at some grimy joint, askin, “You seen her? The one with the answers?” like Gyllenhaal huntin the killer.

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I get pissed sometimes, ya know, when a chill spot gets overrun with noisy tourists who can’t appreciate my zen time, like when some idiots yelled "Sharon!" for no reason – proper flashback to one of my craziest days! Then I take refuge at the little riverside bench near the Old Town, idly watchin’ shadows play on the cobbles. Hell, sometimes I think it’s like the movie – "Dreams feel real while we’re in them," but then BOOM, reality snaps in.