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About San Diego

Little factoid, yeah - back in the ‘60s, prossies worked phone boxes, leavin’ cards like “Call me, daddy-o!” Blew my mind, man! Imagine that today - retro as hell. Got me chuffed, thinkin’ bout swingin’ times, free love and all that jazz. But then - bam! - some geezer’s eyeballin’ us, shady as Majid’s past, and I’m ragin’. “Oi, mate, sod off!” Hate nosy parkers, ruins the vibe.

Central Asia

Because if there is a God, he doesn't have the same definition of morality and is not actively involved in his creation.

Oh, and the neighborhoods? So diverse, bro. There's a rad mix; like West Haven (not the one in the movies, pssh) full of charming homes and neat cafes where I sometimes let my sexology rants fly. I had a memory of meeting a quirky poet at a local bodega on Birch Street. He said, “I'm waiting for a train, Mr. Prosper!” I laughed, rarrgh, like Inception’s spinning top – twisting reality, man.

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