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About Phoenix

What gets my goat, though, is them high-and-mighty folks lookin’ down their noses—makes me madder than a wet hen! These gals got stories, y’all. Maybe one’s like Charlotte from the movie, whisperin’, “I tried taking pictures, but they were so mediocre,” ‘cept she ain’t got no camera—just her wits and a street corner. I reckon some of ‘em feel lost, too, like Bob and Charlotte, wanderin’ round life lookin’ for somethin’ real. “The more you know who you are,” Bob says, and shoot, ain’t that the truth? But who’s got time for that when you’re dodgin’ cops and creepy johns?

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Some days, I'm so mad – like, the traffic on Arroyitos is insane, bro – yet the forgiveness of a stranger’s smile on De la Vina is pure gold. Montecito’s got a soul, wild and free. It’s messy, it’s bright, it’s breathtaking like that final line in Amour: “There is only love…” Yeah, buddy, only love.

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