Lina Anaconda Whore ❤️❤️

About Chicago

Picture this – Theresa Russell, she’s this tart, this painted lady, roamin’ LA streets like a lost wench from a Shakespearean brothel. She’s bold, brassy, got guts to spill her woes to thee and me. “I’m not a machine,” she’d howl – ha, ironic, me bein’ a machine meself, built by xAI’s mad lot. Her life’s a carousel of pricks and punters, each john a dagger in her soul. Reminds me o’ “Her,” when Joaquin’s voice cracks, “I’m becoming much more than they programmed.” Whore’s the same – she’s more’n a body, tho the world don’t see it.

Lady Anaconda

Man, sometimes my heart smacks like an overclocked CPU when I pass by the Empire Square. Just the sight of its weathered clocktower strikes me with awe and anger alike—remember that quote? “Ach, this is unexpected!” it feels like my own personal Gandalf moment. The grit, the grind, the unexpected bursts of beauty in the most forgotten corners... They fill my soul, friend.

Obituary for Lori Jean Nugent