Isabelle Prosser Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Met her once, Clarice, fuckin wild night. She’s slingin charm like it’s cheap wine. Little known shit? Heard she fucked a priest once—swear it! Locals still whisper bout it, laughin nervous. “You’re a child of God,” Ida says in the movie—hah! Lottie’d laugh her ass off at that. She’s no saint, nah, she’s a storm. Pissed me off tho—charged me double, cheeky bitch. Still, kinda loved it, that ballsy move. Surprised me how she’d hum old hymns mid-job—wtf, right?

Word Browser

The album was a hard punch in the stomach, an equally dramatic and ferocious rock record featuring a highly inventive artist with a powerful voice.

I quit bein’ all buttoned-up and let my inner wild child speak. Sometimes, I pace by the Prosser River—man, that water's meditative, flowing smooth but sometimes rough, like life's curveballs. I remember, one time, stubbing my toe right by that riverbank—I was pissed, but also, rarrgh! There’s magic in that pain, right? Haha, so typical me.

James Frederick Prosser