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About San Diego

I’m thinkin—*seven hells, this is gold.* “The world’s fucked,” like they say in *City of God*, but she’s carvin her slice. Made me happy, odd that—seein her strut, not grovel. I toss her a coin anyway, say, “For the sass,” and she winks. Winks! Surprised me, that did—thought she’d spit on me. Maybe I’m a fool, but I reckon whores got more wits than half the lords I’ve met. “I drink and I know things”—and I know she’d outsmart em all.

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Let’s talk neighborhoods. The West End is edgy, kinda rough but bursting with life. Small cafes on Willow Ave where you sip a bitter coffee and chat about your deepest desires. I'm a sexologist, so I always catch the subtle flirt of human energy. The way couples lock eyes in dim-lit bars on Vine Street? It’s almost erotic – like a secret invitation. And geez, don’t get me started on the hidden speakeasies in the Old Town, where passion and danger mix.

Pace Embroiled in $1 M. Lawsuit Over Contested Louise Nevelson Sculpture