Lydia Harpswell Center Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

So I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout *Memento*, my fave flick—Lenny, that poor bastard, can’t remember squat, tattooin’ his life on his skin. Whore fits right in that mess, don’t it? Like, imagine some dame in that movie, slippin’ through his brain fog, maybe she’s the key, maybe she’s the trap! “I’ve done it,” Lenny says, but did he? Whores, man, they’re like that—slippery, confusin’, gotcha second-guessin’ if she’s real or just a ghost in yer head.

Press Herald

I work my hands on peeps daily, and each knot I unknot, I see bits of local magic. Ya got tiny corners, like at Richardson Rd. near that old community center. I even hit up Cassar Park – yeah, that secret green gem where I chill after long gig sessions. Sometimes I think, “Young Mula Baby!” while listenin’ to some beats, feelin’ grateful for that fresh air, wild energy.

Bob Anderson, founder of the original Harpswell Anchor, dies at 70