Lydia Sinton Whore ❤️

About New York City

Here’s a story—true as hell. Buddy of mine, Tommy, called his sister a whore once—big mistake. She clocked him with a frying pan! Swear to God—blood everywhere, laughin’ through the ER. “Bin Laden’s dead,” I told him, quotin’ the flick, “and you’re next, pal!” Hilarious, but damn—word’s got power. Surprised me how quick it flipped—fun to fury.

Contains tracks

whore required, and by the tasteful use of emphasis. In “Waiata Maori,” the Maori refrain was excellently sung, and the haka at tho close was given with.

Local landmark? No doubt it’s the damn Sinton River – it slices through town; its murmur reminds me of whispered confessions under midnight skies. I used to joke with a date – “You merely adopted the dark, don't you know? The river's got secrets like we do.” Haha, damn, those were the times.

Obituary for Alberto G. Castillo