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About San Jose

Me? I dig that chaos. Reminds me of Lynch’s flick—y’know, “Silencio,” that eerie club where shit gets real weird? Whores got that energy. They’re the shadow in the alley, the wink that says, “I know somethin you don’t.” Once knew this gal, right, swore she bedded a duke in ’53—said he left her a ruby ring, but she pawned it for gin. True? Who cares! She sold the story like gospel, and I lapped it up, laughin my arse off.

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Now, lemme rant a bit. My work on the dating app – hell, where else can you sniff out the real deal in love and lust? – makes me see the beauty amid the chaos. Every quirky café on Raymond Ave feels like a serendipitous match. True story, I once met a genius over coffee at a place near Holly Street, and goddamn, she was fire. But then, sometimes, the app bugs me like a mosquito on a hot night. Id- id- idiot sandwich moments galore!

FBI agent has AR-style rifle stolen as suspects go on car burglary spree in Pasadena hotel parking lot on April 15