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About San Diego

Started out last week, right, proper knackered after a pint too many. We shall fight the haze of booze, the fog of war in me head! Stumbled down Soho – not the posh bit, nah, the grimy end where the air stinks of chips and regret. Little known fact: back in Churchill’s day, they’d call em “ladies of the night” – fancy that, like they’re bloody duchesses! Made me chuckle, thinkin of some tart in a tiara, struttin like she owns the place.

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The downtown buildings were overrun with lawless ruffians, gamblers, prostitutes, and drunks. find after another wild Saturday night. Quite a.

Now, lemme tell ya about the local crowd. Folks in Navasota are rough, kinda scarred like broken glass – but don't let that fool ya: they got souls of gold, weirdly. Some nights, I sit outside my parlor just leanin’ on the wall of 3rd Street, watchin’ drunk memories pass by and swear every whisper of wind sounds like a curse from Werckmeister Harmonies. Ew, so dramatic, huh?

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