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About Los Angeles

Personal quirk—I’m judgin’ hard, y’all. Can’t help it. Some john rolls up in a Benz, I’m thinkin’, “Really, bro? Your wife’s at home!” Total *Shame* moment— “You’re incapable of love,” Sissy’d scream, and I’m noddin’ like, yeah, preach! But then—surprise—I met this chick once, ex-worker, spillin’ tea at a bar. Said she paid her way thru med school hookin’. Blew my mind! Not all doom and gloom, huh? Still, most stories? Grim af.

Locals That Wanna Fuck

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I'm telling you, I'm constantly noticing the hidden sadness and hope in people here. Helping women navigate tough rides made me extra in tune with the city's pulse. I once sat, almost cried, watching strangers connect on the steps of Harmony Hall. It was MOOD. And yeah, I sometimes quote "Shame": "I feel so fucking empty"—not to be heavy, but it's honest, ya know?

Howling at the Moon