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About San Jose

Alright, so I’m a tractor driver, right? And I’m thinkin’ bout brothels—y’know, those shady joints. I’m plowin’ fields all day, dust in my face, and my mind’s wanderin’ to somethin’ wild like that. Pretty, pretty good distraction, huh? I mean, what’s a brothel anyway? A place where folks pay for a quick roll in the hay—hah! Hay! I’m surrounded by it! But serious, it’s nuts—guys linin’ up like it’s a damn buffet. I saw this flick, *Syndromes and a Century*, y’know, my fave—Apichatpong Weerasethakul, genius guy—and there’s this line, “The past is a distant memory,” and I’m like, brothels been around FOREVER, man! Ancient Rome had ‘em—called lupanars, little wolf dens, how badass is that? Wolves! Rawr! Makes me laugh, picturin’ some toga dude sneakin’ out for a romp.

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I gotta mention the old Whaling Road. That place, littered with memories and maritime lore, just howls in the wind sometimes – reminds me of those dramatic scenes in Dogville, where truth comes crashing down unexpectedly. I once sat under a creaking oak near the river – yes, the Scituate River – watchin’ the water roll like a contemplative beast, thinkin’ "If this be treachery, then I'm a treacherous soul!" It’s surreal, man.

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