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About San Antonio

Alright, so I’m a sailor, huh? Been ‘round the world, seen some sh*t. Brothels? Man, they’re like ports for the soul—dirty, loud, alive. So, lemme tell ya, Larry King style, slow and pokin’. What’s a brothel to me? Ever been to one? Smells like sweat, cheap perfume, regret. Kinda like the sea, but with more moanin’. You walk in, it’s dim, smoky—girls loungin’, eyes sharp as knives. “What’s your poison, sailor?” they’d say, smirkin’. I’m thinkin’, *poison? Lady, I’m already drownin’.*

** Diamond Service **

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The river? The Meramec flows by with a lazy drip, soothing like a well-executed algorithm but sometimes totally unpredictable. I spent an afternoon by the river, giving a free “massage of the mind” (spiritually speaking) and felt like a satellite performing orbital corrections – pure bliss mixed with dry humor, I mean, how random is that?

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