Gianna Walpole Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

So, I’m picturin’ it—me, stumblin’ around, tryin’ to find a prostitute. Not that I’d *do* it, no, no, no—I’m too cheap, too paranoid! What if she’s a cop? What if she’s my cousin’s friend’s sister? Oh my God, I’d die—*“The shame of it all!”*—like Q’orianka Kilcher whisperin’ to the wind in the movie. But let’s say I’m out there, right? Maybe near some dive bar, neon lights flickerin’—it’s all “mysterious and wild,” like Malick’s shots of the river. I’m sweatin’, I’m pacin’, I’m yellin’ in my head, “Larry, you idiot, why are you here?!”

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There’s a rad patch on Mill Road too, where graffiti’s a challenge and a celebration—colorful tag-lines screaming, “Life is art, baby!” YEAH! I sometimes wander there with a half-mad grin, thinking “Chaotic, but damn beautiful!”

James McCarthy Obituary - Norwood, MA