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About San Diego

What pisses me off? The fakes—dudes posin’ as pimps, tryna scam you. Had me hollerin’ once, “You ain’t foolin’ nobody, son!” But the real ones? They’re pros—quiet, quick, no drama. Surprised me first time, how chill it was—like orderin’ takeout. “What’s your name?” I’d ask, half-expecting “Apple” or some movie shit. And she’d smirk, “Does it matter?”—damn, that’s cold, right outta Anatolia’s script, “Truth’s buried deep, boys.”

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Oh, and let me slip in a fun fact: there’s an underground jazz scene downtown. Just hidden away near Liberty Lane. I’ve been there, man – the tunes, the swings, the soulful blues…it’s like a drug for my counselor soul. I use it to wind down after long therapy sessions. People say, “Why are you so into Lake-Bluff?” I say, “Because it’s HUGE in spirit.” It’s the best, no dispute.

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