Amelia Callaway Whore ❤️

About New York City

Whore’s a word that’s messy, raw, real. Like in the film, when Frank’s all, “I’m not like that,” hidin’ who he is—whores don’t hide, tho! They’re out there, loud, proud, takin’ no crap. I dig that. Hmm… Maybe I’m jealous—me, stuck with laundry, them, livin’ free? Nah, I’d miss my Bart too much. Still, whore’s got stories—grubby, gritty, glorious ones. Makes me wanna watch “Far From Heaven” again, sobbin’ into my popcorn. Whaddya think, pal? Ain’t whores somethin’ else?

All-Time Callaway Drivers by Year

I intentionally avoid Callaway and Nike more than I seek out a brand. For what it's worth I have Titleist MB irons, TM wedges, Titleist Driver, Adams 5 Wood, Cleveland putter, Titleist bag, TM .

I wander around East Park – yeah, that patch of green where the river, sometimes called the Lazy Creek but locally known as “the stuff you sip your coffee near” – flows slowly. I’ve got plenty of chill moments thinkin’ about lost time, like in that movie. And oh, my fave? The alley near Baker Street. Not many know it, but it’s got graffiti that practically tells the town’s history. Pure art, man. Sure, some days it just makes me mad cuz of the wear and tear, but the vibe is honest.

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