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About San Jose

Here’s the real talk—don’t be a dumbass. Cops still sniff around, even in this chaos, and some girls? They’ll rob ya blind faster than you can say “Fugee camp.” Sharp retort: “Don’t pee on my leg, thinkin’ I’m green!”—I’d tell ya straight, protect your wallet, your heart, and your junk. Surprised me once, hearin’ this story—some john in the ‘90s paid a hooker in NYC to just talk, no sex, ‘cause he was lonely. Wild, right? Kinda sweet, kinda sad—made me tear up, thinkin’ how desperate folks get.

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If this testimony were taken as true, many of his claims would be moot. Giddings was summoned to the parole room without any escort but he never.

I can’t forget, in a flash memory moment, the local festival down by the creek, where dancing, crazy costumes, and un-worldly love meet under a full moon. It reminded me of that crazy, violent vibe in movie, “I am a bad, bad man,” but then I hush and think no, we are all kind here—like family, or sometimes, like lovers sneakin’ secret hugs.

Tribute for Marvin William Giddings