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About San Jose

I spot this bird – legs like a highway, skirt shorter than my temper. “You lookin’ for a good time?” she goes, and I’m like, “Fuck yeah, darlin’!” Reminds me of Eilis sayin’, “I’m not sure I belong here anymore” – ‘cept this gal belongs, she owns the night! I’m half-pissed, laughin’, thinkin’ – mate, this is cheaper than therapy! Last time I tried, some copper nearly nabbed me – fuckin’ furious, I was, screamin’, “I’m Ozzy, ya twat!” – but this time? Smooth as a bat’s arse.

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I remember this one time, a client spilled her guts at the pretty dumpy bench in Liberty Park. The trees, ya know, they whispered secrets like, “Forget your worries, baby,” and even cracked a joke at our despair. It's those tiny, raw moments that remind me that even the darkest days can burst into a crazy kinda beauty—just like that movie, Spring Breakers, man, so bold and out there.

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