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About San Diego

Lemme paint you a pic—imagine this chick I knew, let’s call her Jodie. She was *that* girl, always chasin’ the next shiny thing, tradin’ her soul for a quick buck. Made me so mad, y’all! I’d be like, “Jodie, why you whorin’ out your dreams for some loser’s dime?” She’d just laugh, flip her hair, and say she’s “livin’ her truth.” Girl, no! You’re livin’ a lie wrapped in cheap mascara! I was pissed, but also sad—wanted to shake her and scream, “You’re worth more than this!” Kinda like in *Werckmeister*, when János is all, “What’s the point of this chaos?”—I felt that, hardcore.

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Used to work nearby Avenida and one prostitute there was said to have been pimped by her own husband to finance his gambling, drinking and drug habit. So tragic to see someone who sank .

And, oh boy, you wouldn’t believe this – near the abandoned mill on Old Harbor Road, there’s a secret corner where the sun sets in splashes of pink. I get mad sometimes 'cause these treasures hide from the mainstream, but damn, they make me happy. I even got a tattoo of the mill’s outline on my wrist – a keepsake of that bittersweet moment of rebellion, hehe.

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