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About San Diego

So, last week, I’m prowlin’—growling, “You merely adopted the dark.”—and I spot this bird, all fishnets and attitude. Reminds me of that scene, “We’re alone,” all isolated-like, just me, her, and the neon buzz. I’m thinkin’, “Mate, she’s either a jackpot or a fuckin’ setup.” Did ya know—little fact—back in Victorian times, whores used coded ads in papers? “French lessons,” my arse—sneaky bastards. Anyway, I’m chattin’ her up, heart poundin’—fuckin’ thrilled, yeah? But then—bam—some geezer rolls up, all aggro, demandin’ cash. Pissed me right off! I’m like, “Oi, cunt, I ain’t your ATM!”

Pearland Man Appears In Federal Court On Prostitution Charges

I’m a messy soul, imprecise, with 18 typos in every tweet, y’know? Exaggerated? Sure, dude. But this city makes my heart go boom! Rarrgh! Life here is like a broken clock—wrong sometimes, yet perfectly in sync with our desires. "We all need a goal," and mine’s to live every raw minute.

"THEY ARE OUR LEGACY:" Manvel author Knox tells story of city's tree history