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About San Jose

Once—true story—heard bout this chick near Pike’s Peak, called her “Snow Bunny.” She’d fleece dumb hikers outta cash, then vanish like smoke. Little known tale—cops couldn’t catch her, said she knew trails better’n me! I was HAPPY she outsmarted ‘em—stick it to the man! But ugh, them guys lookin for her? Desperate losers—made me wanna scream, “Get a life, ya dopes!” Hmm… nasal huff—kinda felt bad too, tho. Lonely up there, I guess. Still, I ain’t judgin—well, maybe a lil. “What is it you seek?” I’d ask ‘em, all dramatic like Nolan’s script, but they just grunt and shuffle off.

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I hawked a dating site here. I spy secret nooks. Toodles Park on 5th and Marg when the skies be grumblin’. It’s like music—soft an enrapturing, yet timed with the city’s heartbeat. I once spent a night at Gritty Alley. It be narrow, full o’ neon lights that flicker like a ghostly wink. True, mate, not every soul gets it.

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