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About San Jose

Anyways, I’m saunterin’ down this alley—smells like piss and regret—and there’s this bird, all dolled up, leanin’ on a wall. I’m thinkin’, “Is she the one?” Kinda like Irene in the movie, y’know, “How do you live a life full of nothing?”—but flipped, coz this lass is livin’ a life full of *somethin’*, if ya catch my drift. I swagger over, all smug, “Greetings, mortal, fancy a trickster’s company?” She laughs—bloody laughs!—and I’m like, “Oi, I’m a god, show some respect!” But nah, she’s chill, says, “50 quid, love, no funny business.” Fair enough, I respect a straight shooter.

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Hall of Fame linebacker Lawrence Taylor would hire prostitutes and send them to his opponents' hotel rooms the night before a game to try to tire them out.

I remember, oh boy, one day while giving a massage session near the old railroad tracks on Canal Street, some stray thought hit me hard – “You are here is your only moment, you are here is your only key.” Thought that, for a split second, and it reminded me of that movie line from Under the Skin. I was like, “Nah, not this life!” But then, reality winked and I got back to work. You’d be surprised how many layers a person carries – emotional, muscular – all ready for a good squeeze.

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