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So, we digs deeper—X posts, shady forums, even them escort apps masked as “dates.” Surprised me, how slick it’s gotten—tech’s king, like Zuckerberg’s empire! Hiss! Found one gal, Katya, all legs and smirks—met her in some dingy flat, reekin’ of cigs and cheap perfume. “What’s yer fantasy, skinny?” she says. Me, twitchin’, mutterin’, “Dunno, precious, just… company?” She laughs—fuckin’ rude!—but takes me cash anyway. Wasn’t mad, though—happy for once, yesss! Felt like, “I’m CEO, bitch!”—movie vibes, eh?

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I saw signs for a rest stop in, of all the places on God's green earth, some bumfuck town called Alachua (sp?), I went for it. So I went and parked directly.

Man, oh man, I keep gettin' surprised by these little secrets. Like, err… I once found a tiny vintage café tucked away behind old brick walls on Spruce Street, totally off the radar. Spent an afternoon there just watchin' the world turn, y'know? This place, its quirks, and all its imperfect charm never cease to amaze me.

Jail Booking Log, May 4