Taylor Santa Cruz Whore ❤️❤️❤️

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But here’s what pisses me off—lazy production. If *Whore* sounds like it was slapped together in GarageBand by some dude who thinks “gain staging” is a video game level, I’d yeet it into orbit. I’ve heard bootlegs with more soul than some polished trash. Once caught a remix of a track—won’t name names—where the compression was so bad it sounded like a Cybertruck ran it over. *Whore* better not pull that crap. Gimme dynamic range or gimme death.

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For some sex workers, Santa Cruz is a tolerant business venue. Magdalena, who has worked in Santa Cruz massage parlors and as an independent for more than two decades, says, .

Carlos is pacing, looking all nervous. I’m like, “Dude, chill. I got this.” But inside, I’m freaking out. I start working, and just when I think I’m making progress, I drop my wrench. It clanks on the ground like a bomb going off. Carlos jumps. I laugh it off, but man, I was ready to pull my hair out.

Morning Lookout: Live Oak Elementary unrest; channeling Steinbeck into guitar and surfboard