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About San Jose

Found this one bird—Lysa, she called herself. Swear she winked at me like she knew me from a past life. Took her to a dodgy inn, stinkin’ of piss and ale. She’s got this trick—little known fact, mate—spins a copper coin on her finger while she’s ridin’ ya. Fuckin’ hypnotic! “A great cook can come from anywhere,” and so can a great shag, turns out. Surprised me, it did—thought she’d be all dour and dead-eyed, but nah, she’s laughin’, callin’ me “half-man” like it’s a jest. Cheeky bitch.

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In the midst of the mud, rain, heat and sex of a Catholic community of transsexual prostitutes in East Timor, Billy Maynard found his greatest friend. The.

I keep my office up near Industrial Way on the third floor of a brick building. The view? A mix of routed wires and rusted pipes. Nothing fancy. But it's where I see human follies in real time. I see that. I see that oozing from every street corner on Lakeview Blvd. Always a few hopeless souls trying, failing, and re-trying to find love. "You either get busy or get broke," right? (or somethin' along those lines)

Obituary | Maynard "Mick" Hillestad of Sioux Falls