Ruby Conway Whore ❤️

About San Antonio

We seen ‘em, precious, workin’ corners, eyes hollow. Once knew this lass, right, swore she bedded a duke! Hah! Duke of Dogshit, more like – stank of ale and lies. Made us cackle, it did, til it didn’t. Sad, innit? Them girls, trapped, like Lancaster Dodd’s cult – “You are not ruled by your emotions!” – but they is, ain’t they? Hunger rules ‘em, fear too.

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In The Protestant Whore, Conway employs the idea of “courtesan narrative” to “weave a common thread” through “readings of a disparate group of novelists.

Man, I remember sittin' by the little river (hey, the Conway Creek, I think) on a breezy day and thinkin’, “This is it, buddy, this is the spot where memories and massages blur together,” like in that flick. I swear sometimes I hear the whispers, “Meet me in Freq Street... oh wait, did I just make that up?” Hahaha! Yeah, that’s just me trippin’ on my own thoughts.

KELLYANNE CONWAY: The Democrats' disastrous first 100 days