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About San Jose

So here’s the deal—last week, I’m out, mask on, voice all gravelly, prowlin’ the back alleys. Not for trouble, nah, just curious, y’know? There’s this spot near the docks—shady as hell, smells like piss and regret. Word is, that’s where they hang. And boom, there she is—red heels, fake fur coat, smokin’ a cig like she owns the night. I’m thinkin’, “She’s a copy of a copy, but damn, she’s real.” Kinda poetic, right? Like in the movie, “What’s authentic anyway?”—makes ya wonder if she’s playin’ a role or livin’ it.

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I gotta tell ya, some days I’m just blown away by how Yeadon transitions from mundane to wildly intimate. Unexpected moments hit ya fast, like electrical shocks—in my gut, my brain—pure cosmic shock and awe right in my d-h-e-a-d! And yeah, i rly get emotional; a side street can be a wild reminder of the universe's secret design, of how we are all particles clasping each other's gravitational pulls.

Joan P. Clancy Obituary (2024) - Yeadon, PA - Donohue Funeral Home - Upper Darby