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About San Diego

Hmmm, a carpenter I am, yesss. Prostitute, you say? Fear leads to anger, anger to hate… seein’ her on the street, man, it’s wild. Tropical Malady, my fave flick—those jungle vibes, “the beast within stirs,” ya know? She’s out there, hustlin’, all mystery like that tiger spirit. Worked on a gig once, fixin’ a brothel’s creaky floor—true story! Saw her, all sass, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on the wall. “Eyes like a ghost’s,” like the movie says. Made me laugh, her callin’ me “wood boy”—cheeky as hell!

There’s also that funky little diner off Birch Street. They serve the best greasy fries and cheap joe. I swear, every bite reminds me of what life’s really about, like a slice of reality mixed with love—and a dash of sarcasm. Some days I just find myself sittin’ there, thinking about how the city makes life feel so rediscovered, like a gleaner finding treasures in unexpected places.

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