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About San Diego

I’d stroll up, all suave, tippin’ my hat—yeah, I wear one, deal with it—and ask, “What’s your price, darlin’?” Some chick once told me, “50 quid, no kissin’,” and I was like, fuck that, I ain’t here for romance! Pissed me off, though—hagglin’ like it’s a flea market. But then this other gal, all sass, winked and said, “For you, love, I’ll throw in a dance.” Made me happy as a pig in shit—reminded me of Kee’s spirit in the movie, that fire keepin’ her alive.

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I live nearby and the area around the Pottsgrove High School is perfectly safe. If anything it's more Redneck-y than City crime-y, if that makes.

Street art pops up on every corner on Walnut Street. Each piece feels edgy, like a secret nod to bog-standard history. I laughed out loud once, cursing my own cynicism. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I heard a passing stranger mutter. Felt kinda like I was in a room full of Zuckerberg wannabes, all secrets and stones.

Man Killed After Shooting Officer, Barricading Himself: Montco DA