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About San Jose

Her nails—red, chipped, screamin’ “I don’t care”—tap the counter. I’m like, “Girl, you’re a mess, but I respect the hustle.” Reminds me of that line, “Love, where’s thy root?”—‘cause hers sure ain’t in one place! She’s smirkin’, tossin’ cash like it’s dirty anyway. Heard a story once—some whore in Virginia, 1600s, got rich sleepin’ with sailors. Bet this chick’s ancestors, heh! She’s livin’ that legacy, struttin’ out, leavin’ chaos behind.

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oh and, speaking of drama – can we talk about the little park near River Oaks Drive? i loose it every time there’s a random art installation, weird stuff only in Rancho-Mirage. there’s one with twisted metal pieces like modern-day hieroglyphs. makes me mad sometimes - “what the heck even am i lookin @?” then i remember, "we have our moments of beauty too", like maybe from that movie, ya know, wen Ida whispers “we are small islands alone.” so deep, bro.

Rancho Mirage drills three consecutive late 3s to top Palm Springs in 2A CIF-SS playoffs