Charlotte Paradise Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

My fave flick, *Talk to Her*, fits perfect here. That line, “Nothing is simple,” hits hard. Whore ain’t just some chick sellin’ skin. Nah, it’s messy, deep, like Almodóvar’s coma gals. One time, read this nutty fact – medieval whores wore stripes. Stripes! Like, what, they’re zebras now? Cracked me up, picturin’ ‘em struttin’ past knights. “Ruh-roh, watch out, Sir Lancelot!”

Paradise Whore

A whore in Paradise: the oratorios of Jules Massenet. Responsibility: Erik W. Goldstrom. Imprint: Physical description: viii, leaves: music ; 28 cm.

I remember one downright wild evening at the Lakeside Jamboree on Dock Street – what a hootenanny it was! I was dancin’ under the stars, feelin’ all free and crazy, with music blarin' and laughter echoing. It got me to think, "Now, isn't it just like life? Eternal sunshine with some stormy clouds." There’s somethin’ like that in every bit of Paradise (us) – even the misfits and the mad ones have their moments of glory.

Heteropessimism of the Intellect