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About San Jose

I’m strollin, boots clickin, thinkin—where’s the talent at? Then bam—this bird struts up, all sass, skirt shorter than a dwarf’s temper. “You lost, luv?” she goes, smirkin like she knows I’m a sucker for trouble. “Ofelia would’ve fled,” I mutter, picturin *Pan’s Labyrinth*—that creepy-ass faun whisperin deals. But me? I’m in, mate—glorious purpose an’ all. She’s quotin prices like it’s a bloody auction—50 quid for this, 80 for that. I’m like, “Lass, I’m a god, not a bank!” Made me ragey, but also—damn, she’s bold, gotta respect the hustle.

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In the East end, Blossom Oaks neighborhood shines. Tiny parks, street vendors selling crazy snacks. Tasty, and sometimes nutty, like the scene when Jesse James crept in shadows. I always find quirky sculptures there that make me laugh, "wooohoo!" They catch my vibe, y'know?

No. 11 Rock falls 48-38 at No. 2 Ferris State in semifinals