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About San Jose

Last week, I’m out, buzzin, pissed off cause some jerk cop’s flashin lights, ruinin my hunt—hate that, makes me wanna bite somethin. Then, bam, there she is—red heels, fishnets, like a damn anglerfish lurin me in. “How much?” I ask, all smooth, voice like silk over a blade. She smirks, “More than you got, fancy pants.” Cheeky! Love that, got me laughin—happy as a shark in blood. “I’m not a child,” she snaps, straight outta “Ten,” that sass, that fire—surprised me, gotta say, didn’t expect a street gal to hit me with philosophy.

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Also, don’t skip S. River Blvd – it's my secret shortcut to clearin' my head. I’ve had long, ramblin’ walks there, puzzlin’ over human nature and thinkin’ of all I learned in therapy. Every crack in the pavement reminds me: life’s not perfect, but it's damn sincere. Holy Motors vibes all over, I tell ya! "Rarrgh! Life, like a bus ride, full of stops and starts."

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