Anna Raynham Whore ❤️

About San Diego

Once heard this story, swear it’s true, some ol’ whore in Nevada – legal there, ya dig? – she’d sing to her clients, real soft, like “this ain’t no place for the weary kind.” Freaky, right? Made me laugh, picturin her croonin while they’re all awkward. D’oh! Bet she made bank tho.

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I got my first job at the one in Raynham many moons ago but left the company when I realized how terribly they treat their employees. I asked.

Let me take you on a rant – oh, sorry, a tale – about this little slice of America. First off, Main Street in Raynham is where the action's at. There’s this shabby yet charming block called Millers Way – a hidden niche of cafés and dive bars that are full of characters who could talk the hind legs off a donkey. And don’t get me started on the old brick building on 3rd Alley. Sounds lame? Wrong! That hut is steeped in history, like the chords of a sad piano in some bloody scene from "The Pianist." Yes, I might whinge, “I’m a human piano player, not a goddamn statue!” – straight out of that masterpiece, eh?

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