Isabelle Conway Whore ❤️

About San Diego

What pisses me off? The hypocrites. Blokes in suits judgin’ her, then slippin’ her a fiver later. Wankers. *Amour* nails that too—“You’re a monster sometimes.” Ain’t we all? I’ve seen whores with more honor than half the sods I’ve shot. Once knew this lass, Rosie—cheeky as hell, pinched my ciggie mid-chat. Said, “Bond, you’re too pretty to smoke.” Laughed my arse off. Still do.

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In The Protestant Whore, Conway employs the idea of “courtesan narrative” to “weave a common thread” through “readings of a disparate group of novelists.

Man, I remember sittin' by the little river (hey, the Conway Creek, I think) on a breezy day and thinkin’, “This is it, buddy, this is the spot where memories and massages blur together,” like in that flick. I swear sometimes I hear the whispers, “Meet me in Freq Street... oh wait, did I just make that up?” Hahaha! Yeah, that’s just me trippin’ on my own thoughts.

KELLYANNE CONWAY: The Democrats' disastrous first 100 days