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About San Diego

Yo, so escort shit, right? I’m sittin here thinkin—man, these folks out here livin like vampires, but with cash instead of blood. Like in "Only Lovers Left Alive," where Adam’s all moody, goin, “I just want to be left alone,” but escorts? They’re out here grindin, makin bank off lonely suckers. Ain’t no solitude in that game, fam! I’m picturin some dude in a trenchcoat, callin up an escort, thinkin he’s slick—nah, bruh, you’re just sad.

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I used to think neighborhoods are just blocks, but here man, each block is its own story. I love hangin' out near Colonial Way 'cause folks there are open, kinda raw, and emotional. And trust me on this—emotions run wild. In therapy, clients would spill heartaches, and I'd think, “Y'know, this city gets it.” And popcorn? Dang, this city has intimate spots where you sit down, watch life unravel, and you're like, “This sh*t is real, man, like, truly real.”

Tenth save for Cuban Martinez in Japanese baseball