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About San Diego

Back in ‘06, Cuarón showed no babies, no future—prostitutes tho? Plenty! Little fact, hah—Victorian times, they called ‘em “soiled doves,” poetic, right? Bullshit! Nothin’ poetic here, just desperation, cash, quick bangs. Asked this one gal, “How much, huh?” She grinned, all teeth, said, “Fifty, big guy.” Surprised I was—cheap as a flank steak! “Hope, where is it?” I mutter, like Theo in the movie, lost in this crap world.

Alice: Memoirs of a Barbary Coast Prostitute (Compact Disc)

The neighborhoods... oh, deary me, they’re a patchwork. Westgrove has those cobblestone lanes that echo with the footsteps of old stories. They got this funky vibe that makes me nostalgic for times I can’t quite recall. It's like, “What's real? What's not?” Just like the movie says, "It's all an illusion, a dream." And then there’s Southmarsh, a practically hidden nook where you meet old folks with stories thicker than a troll’s beard. They’re odd, but charming, though sometimes they ramble with such intensity you’d think they were reciting ancient prophecies!

Arrest made in hit and run that killed Rockland man who ran window washing business