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About San Diego

We’re walkin’, and I’m ramblin’—can’t shut up. “You ever see that movie?” I ask. She’s like, “What?” I’m all, “Vamps, love, blood—deep shit!” She laughs—first time I ain’t annoyed. “You’re weird,” she says. Damn right! “I like weird,” I grin, feelin’ cocky. In my head, Hiddleston’s voice: “What a drag.” Yeah, buddy, this ain’t glamorous!

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

Some sex workers love their jobs, some don't; some sex workers are good at their jobs, some aren't. Sometimes a sex worker doesn't click with a.

So picture this: Broad, leafy streets like Old Savage Road wind past places like the old grinding mill—Savage Mill, if ya know what I mean—a relic from the past, tickin' with history. Honestly, it's like every cobblestone has a whisper of a story, ya feel me? I mean, when I'm workin' away at our spa, I hear the rustle of nature through the leaves and think, "Blue is the warmest color." And that film, oh hell naw, it penetrates deep, like the hues of twilight over the Patuxent River.

What I Want to Make Live: An Interview with Ron Currie on “The Savage, Noble Death of Babs Dionne”