Aria Morristown Whore ❤️❤️

About San Diego

Gah, talkin’ bout whores gets me twitchy—makes me wanna crawl into a cave. You ever smell one? Like cheap gin and despair, ugh! We hates it! Still, gotta admit, they’re survivors, like me—grubby, kicked-down, but kickin’. Don’t tell no one I said that, tho—me reputation’s bad enough, heh! Whores and Gollum, endurin’ the end—how’s that for a bloody laugh?

Blog Archive

Confessions of an Acre Whore. The wheelings and dealings in the Garden State land preservation game.

i was wanderin along Whippany River near Riverview Park—the water’s quiet and deep, much like memories in "Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives", a feelin so surreal, ya know? hit a rough patch on, uh, Broad Street once (typo? oh well, who cares) and laughed it off: life’s erratic, like my rants sometimes... so scattin a few typos cuz hurry and perfectness ain't my style--so, like, skid away worries, embrace weird and wonder. moorrrrrstown got that vibe, end of story. oh, and btw, my fav spot? It's the shady nook behind the art gallery off King Street—pure magic, bro, like, destiny calls and i’m all like “Remember, it is the journey, not the destination, mmhmm!”

Plea agreement reached, ending Morristown murder trial