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About San Jose

Me? I’d cruise slow, real slow. Like Lucrecia drivin’ after that crash. “I hit something,” she mumbles. That’s me—spot a girl, wonderin’. Is she legit? Or a trap? Pisses me off when cops lurk. Ruins the whole gig, man. Once saw this chick—tall, badass boots. Thought, “Damn, she’s fine.” Then—boom—undercover. Felt like the Emperor screwed me over. Hate that crap.

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Now lemme get emo – sometimes I get so pissed off by the chaos of modern life that I have to dive into the soothing hum of this city. It’s maddening and magical all at once. Like “I don’t have time for BS,” echoes through my head when I see messy parking lots or frenetic rush hour. Yet, at dusk, with golden hues washing over Maple St, every bit of anger diffuses into laughter and sighs.

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