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About San Antonio

So, erotic-massage—ooof, it’s a trip! Not yer granny’s back rub, naw, this is slow hands, warm oil, tension buildin’ like a dang soap opera. I reckon it’s bout connection—kinda like Bob starin’ at Charlotte across that bar, y’know, “You’re not hopeless.” But here’s the kicker: it ain’t always bout sex, nah! It’s tease, it’s trust, it’s somebody kneadin’ your soul along with yer knotted-up shoulders. How’s that workin’ for ya? I mean, you walk in all tense, and bam—some stranger’s got their paws on ya, and you’re like, “Well, shoot, this feels good!”

The Vegas Renormalization

Man, I sometimes get nostalgic. I’m thinkin’: “Everything in this city’s a lesson.” There are tiny cafes on Maple St where I sat and cried ‘cause I realized life is messy and beautiful. It’s like those Zen-like pauses Steve Jobs loved – moments of silence that say so much.

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