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About San Jose

So, I’m cruisin’, tires screechin’, lookin’ for a spot where the ladies hang. Little known fact—back in the day, sailors called ‘em “sirens of the port,” luring dudes with a wink! I’m like, “Fancy a quick ride, lass?”—all pirate-y, SpongeBob style! Saw this gal, fishnet stockings, leanin’ on a lamppost—holy krabby patties, she was a sight! Made me happy, like fixin’ a busted engine on the first try. But then—BOOM—some jerk cuts me off, nearly sideswipes me! Got me ragin’, yellin’, “You can’t bomb me out!”—straight outta the movie, felt so badass.

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I get irate sometimes – like when the city seems too squeaky clean, too controlled. I just wanna scream “Freedom!” like in that movie scene: “I will not be a victim!” Haha, it’s twisted, right? But it’s all about passion. In my work, I notice the hidden desires that pulse beneath these quiet streets. The spontaneity, the secret smiles on a park bench, the flirtatious glances across a dimly lit cafe on Walnut. Heh, I've seen it all.

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