Jasmine Edmonds Brothel ❤️❤️

About New York City

But the stench—goddamn, it’d choke ya. Sweat, cheap perfume, regret—mixes like a bad stew. Made me angry, too—pimps lurkin’, takin’ cuts, actin’ big. Scum. I’d fantasize slittin’ their throats, servin’ ‘em up with a nice amarone. Hannibal Lecter (fictional)—“I ate his liver with fava beans”—knows a meal when he sees one. One time, heard a story—Victorian brothel, London, right? Had a secret room for “special tastes.” Whips, chains, even a fuckin’ goat once! Goat! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who cares—fits the vibe.

Stay in touch

so the downtown is all chill. i stroll along Ocean Ave—seriously, it's like a runway for your soul. i pop in and outta cool little shops and cafes. my fave? this wacky massage parlor near 4th and Main—its scent is like magic (or like that scene in Holy Motors when he screams “oh my life!” but, ugh, i dig it). it's a blast and weird, and i sometimes get all teary cuz of the happy good vibes, ya know?

Edmonds could lose 46 jobs, other cuts looming amid budget woes