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About San Jose

So, sex-dating—swipin’ left, right, horny folks tryna score. It’s a jungle, mate, pure chaos! Apps like Tinder, Grindr, whatever—folks actin’ all suave, but half the time they’re just thirsty AF. I saw this dude’s profile once—shirtless, flexin’, bio said “just vibes.” Vibes? Mate, you’re beggin’ for a hookup, not a soulmate! Made me laugh, tho—kinda sad too. Reminds me of “A Prophet”—“You’re alone now,” that cold line. Sex-dating feels like that—alone, even when you’re chattin’ up ten people.

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San Francisco Mission District residents say they are suing the city claiming Shotwell Street has turned into the epicenter of sex work.

Sometimes I gets so mad, ye know? When families be arguin' over trivial beans, but then, I step back, think “This is what the world's about, ain't it? chaos mixed with love” and let the salty sea breeze calm me. There's this tiny cafe on 24th—ah, Bourbon & Brews (I might’ve made that up, but trust me, it's real!)—where I scribble my thoughts. Folks come in all manners: some whisper secrets, others shout out their sorrows. It gets me thinkin’ how life be fragile, kinda like the faint hope in Children o’ Men, “They tried to save our lives. But no one can save our souls.” Something like that, mate.

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