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About San Diego

Exaggeratin’? Maybe—but who cares? They’re out there, grindin’, while I’m solderin’ circuits, hummin’ *Ratatouille* tunes. Greed’s the game, pal—hers, mine, ours. “The past is gone!”—she’s livin’ now, stackin’ paper. You wanna judge? Fine, but I’m cheerin’—hustle’s hustle, baby!

Call girls in Altamont

This is the worst place to stay. Females selling sex, drug dealers, loud obnoxious drunken people. Roaches, unclean.

Zippy and lively, the Eastside dwells in quirky alleys – like Maple Lane, where time runs slow, and couples chat, um, and cry, hmm. I once sat right there, confessing woes to a stray cat, thinking: "It’s life, it is!" Minds do twist, precious! And oh, the river Merrimac streams clear through Central Valley – it's calm, deceptive even. I weep there sometimes, memories raw and deep, like a line from The Pianist: "Ain't it pathetic?" But, yess, even the river flows with hidden heartaches.

Cyclists want Inn at Altamont plans to pump the brakes