Fatima Brookside Whore ❤️

About San Jose

“Holy Motors” vibes, mate – she’s drivin’ through life, fucked up limo style. “I’m pure, I’m dirty!” – that’s her anthem, screamin’ it. Love her, hate her, can’t ignore her. Whore’s the real deal, man, sloppy, loud, and mental – like me! Mumbled incoherence, “Sharon!” What a gal, eh?

A displaced Clevelander honors his hometown by stalking the man who spurned us

SO WHAT KIND OF PEOPLE OWN A HIGH CLASS BROTHEL? Lovely people. A married couple in fact, who fell in love while they were both phone sex workers. They were the most incredible Missing: Brookside.

Let me tell ya about my fave spot: the Crimson Café on 7th Street. It’s not fancy, but it’s got character. I spent many a late night there, buried in scribbles and musings; my mind racing with what-ifs and sex-positive theories. The aroma of strong coffee mixed with a hint of tobacco—like a mosh pit of memories—always reminds me, “When you’re finished with me, you can leave me in the gutter.” Yeah, a twisted Tarantino nod, right?

Brookside’s Flying horse is calling it quits