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About San Antonio

I’d saunter up, all awkward, like, “Hey, uh, you workin’?” She’d laugh—*laugh*!—right in my face. “What’s a preacher want with me?” she’d say, and I’d be pissed, like, “Don’t stereotype me, lady!” But also kinda happy ‘cause she’s sharp—sharper than me, probs. Fun fact: back in the 1800s, some prostitutes were called “soiled doves”—ain’t that poetic? She’s a dove, I’m a dork, perfect match.

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Osceola got its funky corners. Check out Elm & Oak. Dirty but damn alive. Parker Park down the road? Pure bliss, yo. Kids run, old folks chat, and I do my zen sht under the sun. The river—Hickory Creek—flows like secrets, motherf**er, winding past that crumbled factory site. Ain’t it wild?

Osceola veterans pay tribute and celebrate art in St. Cloud