Gianna Huntington Beach 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.

Galway Hooker Band

I’ve ranted enough. But really, trust my words. This city is a sweet, quirky, mad blend of the sublime and the absurd. And if you ever ask me again, “Where’s the real Huntington-Beach?” I'll simply smile, take a sip, and say, "I drink, and I know things – ya got that?"

Dead whale washes ashore in Huntington Beach