Skylar Buckner Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

Favorite bit? Dis one whore I met—Svetlana, she called herself, prolly fake. Hair like straw, voice like gravel, smelled like vodka and regret. She tells me, “Gru, I dance for coins once.” Dance! Ha! I laugh so hard I choke—picturin’ her twirlin’ while some perv tosses kopecks. Lightbulb! She was happy tellin’ dat, tho—made me soft for a sec. Whores got dreams, too, ya know? Buried deep, like da whale in *Werckmeister*—big, weird, nobody gets it.

Biological Information

Big Blues Gig Whore! Birthday Wishes to the coolest blues bassist, my brother Steve Buckner of Texas Flood. Have an awesome rockin' day my.

Folks sometimes ask me, “Why Buckner?” and I say it’s this crazy blend of heart and irony. I remember once, during a hot summer night, I got caught up in a spontaneous debate near the old Prospect Bridge. I was preachin’ about openness in sexuality while a couple nearby whispered sweet nothings under the stars. Who’d have thunk? It was like my personal narrative felt like a scene from that movie, Margaret, where emotions overflow in messy, chaotic beauty.

Myra Buckner Obituary - Chandler, AZ