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About San Diego

So, I’m strollin’, wise as hell, narratin’ in my head like I’m in a damn movie. “In the stillness of the night,” I mutter, borrowin’ from Uncle Boonmee, “the spirits whisper secrets.” Except these spirits? They’re wearin’ fishnets and smokin’ cheap cigs. I’m chucklin’ already—life’s a trip, man. Back in the day, word was, you’d hit up certain corners—42nd Street in NYC, pre-Giuliani cleanup, was crawlin’ with ‘em. Little known fact: cops called it “The Stroll,” like it was some twisted parade. Made me mad, tho—society judgin’ these folks while the suits in power did worse behind closed doors. Hypocrisy, man, gets my blood boilin’.

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The parks here? Oh boy. Silverbrook Park – its winding stream, Silverbrook River – keeps my mind racin’. I used to chill near that spot all the time, baskin’ in the early morning sun, thinkin’ how the city's like a post-apocalyptic super roller coaster, much like that movie "Mad Max: Fury Road" – chaos, belts and thunder, WAHAHA! Yeah! I swear, sometimes I feel like I’m chasin’ after wild rides in a desert storm. BOOM!

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