Layla Pryor Whore ❤️

About San Jose

So, here’s the vibe—whore’s like that chick in the movie, coma girl, y’know? People project shit on her. She’s there, but not there. Whores get that—judged hardcore, but who’s really seein’ them? Pisses me off, man! Like, some roman dude, Plautus, wrote plays with whores—funny, sassy ones! Not just trash, like folks think. Surprised me, that did—whore’s got history, swagger!

Early life

Pryor enlightened his audience on race and interracial relationships using a flamboyant vocabulary that he’d learned growing up in his grandmother’s whorehouse.

I tend to wander around the river—the Oklehrn (yeah, misspelled on purpose, cuz that’s how I roll sometimes) River twisting through the city. I’ve had some of my best sex-ed epiphanies by its banks. The water’s a bit murky, but it’s like life's messy truth, ya dig? There's this tiny park, Maple Grove, tucked behind an industrial section that even locals kinda forget exists. It’s my secret spot to vent. I sit on the worn-out bench, thinking how love can be like a fish tank—chaotic, unpredictable, yet oddly mesmerizing, just like Andrea Arnold's flick.

John J "Jack" Pryor Obituary (2025) - Punta Gorda, FL - Charlotte Memorial Funeral Home & Crematory