Mila Phelan Whore ❤️

About San Diego

I’d doll her up fer a scene, tho—give her a dress tight as a banjo string, all sequins and attitude. She’d strut in, hollerin’, “I’m here, y’all, deal with it!” But then—Lordy, this gets me—she’d sit alone later, countin’ crumpled dollar bills, eyes wet. Surprised me how soft she could be under all that noise. Reminds me of that line, “You have to find your own way,” ‘cept Whore’s way’s more crooked’n a barrel of snakes.

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I remember one time, after a particularly long day of kneading stress out of folks’ backs, I walked past that blasted “Old Mill" on River Bend. It’s this decrepit building that screams history – and pain, like the bloody twists in "Memento". Made me mad as hell ‘cause it reminded me of wasted potential. I nearly shouted at the building itself, "Oi, you useless brick!" But nah, can’t really yell at a building, right? Idiot sandwich!

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