Maeve Huntingdon Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

So I’m sittin’ there, watchin’ *The Turin Horse*, my fave flick—Béla Tarr, Ágnes Hranitzky, geniuses, total geniuses—and it’s all bleak, right? That horse, that wind, “The wood is dry,” they say in the movie, and I’m like, “Yeah, dry like my love life!” But whores? They ain’t dry, nah, they’re out there, makin’ it happen, rain or shine. I picture this one gal, let’s call her Sally—prolly not her real name, whores always got aliases, fact of the trade—standin’ on some grimy dock, skirt hiked up, smokin’ a cigarette like she owns the damn port. And I’m like, “Good for you, Sally! Pretty, pretty good hustle!” But also—kinda grosses me out! All those sweaty sailors, me included—ugh, the hygiene, the STENCH. Makes me wanna shower just thinkin’ bout it.

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Oh snap, lemme mention: I walk these streets nightly when I'm chillin' after massagin’ all that tense muscle doin’ its thing. Lost in thoughts—blah, blah, feelings runnin’ wild. I always spot the old cinema on Liberty Rd. Reminds me of that deep line: "Every moment is like an eternally unfolding mystery." So poetic, yo, and a bit trippy!

You’ve heard about THON, but what about Huntingdon County’s own CHAMP?