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About San Antonio

Alright, so I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout findin’ a prostitute, and lemme tell ya, as a consumption psychologist, I hate everything. Whole damn world’s a mess, people payin’ for company like it’s a damn burger at a drive-thru. Pathetic. Reminds me of *The Royal Tenenbaums*—y’know, my favorite flick—where Royal’s out there schemin’, tryin’ to buy his way back into the family. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he’d say, all fake tears, but he’d still slip a twenty to the doorman. That’s the vibe here—cash for a quick fix.

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The local river, the Kings River, just gurgles through town like it’s runnin' from a past full of tangled family dramas. I strolled along its banks on a hot day, my thoughts wandering to phrases like “The sea is a harsh mistress, yet she sings,” (yeah, I totally twisted a Leviathan line there, lol). Ain't it weird how a river can be that poetic yet brutal?

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