Lauren Benjamin Constant Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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She’s got this rep, right? Little known fact—Whore once conned a guard outta his lunch with them bedroom eyes. Swear to God, she’s slicker than a greased pig! Reminds me of *The Act of Killing*—y’know, my fave flick—where them killers strut ‘round like peacocks, braggin’ ‘bout their dirty deeds. Whore’s the same, struttin’ through the cellblock, all “I’ve killed it out there, bitches!” Like, honey, you killed your dignity, that’s what! “We’re number one!” she’d holler, echoin’ that movie vibe—cocky as hell, but it’s all a front.

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Spicer's poetics of what I will call the “whore-text” constitutes not merely a poignant reply to such righteous cavils (even as they continue to be made years.

I gotta gush: this city makes me feel alive. From messy back alleys to golden sunsets by the river. Its pulse and imperfections hit home for a family psych like me. And hey, gotta love it: even in chaos, there's a rhythm.

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