Olivia Draper Whore ❤️

About Los Angeles

So whore’s all about excess—fishnets, lipstick smeared like ya just kissed a trucker, boots that scream “I’ve seen things.” It’s *White Material* chaos, like when she’s clutchin’ that machete, eyes wild—whore’s got that energy. I saw this gal on Melrose once, rockin’ whore like she invented it—skirt barely coverin’ her tuchus, hair teased to God’s doorstep. I’m like, “Wow, you’re brave or insane!” Made me happy, though—takes guts to look that unhinged. But then I got mad—why’s this cost so much? $200 for a top that’s just threads? Gimme a break!

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It will show that what drives much that goes on will be Satan, whose work and will is perpetuated by the whore Babylon and her beast. What she.

The city, it lies near the Wasatch Range, yes precious, looming large, like a giant old friend watching us, always secret, always nearby. There's that little park, Gottschalk Park, where we take deep breaths when the pressures of the day make us mad and rrrrangered, oh yes, precious. Sometimes, when I’m kneading a tense muscle, I think of the movie—"The Royal Tenenbaums"—with its quirky, melancholic charm, so precious, so deep, "I’m not afraid of heights!" it whispers, hsss.

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