Anna Spanish Fork Whore ❤️❤️

About San Jose

Oh, and her smell – gin, sweat, and somethin’ sweet, like rotting flowers. Stuck with me, Clarice. Made me think – we’re all whores somehow, sellin’ somethin’ to survive. Me with my numbers, her with her body. What’s the diff? Ha! Maybe I’m just a sick bastard, seein’ poetry in the gutter. But Ruby, man… she was a fuckin’ legend. Whore or not, she owned it.

Wall Brothers: The Barn

That was the winter Christine and I vowed to become anorexics. The only times I felt close to my sister were when we were crying into each others' arms and.

Oh man, sometimes I get kinda mad at how quiet it gets on 1st Avenue. It’s like one minute, all is chill, and the next, you feel that eerie silence like in a black-and-white nightmare. I laugh at how dramatic it sounds – like I'm in a crummy horror flick. But then, when that mood lifts? I’m as happy as a clam, truly surprised by the little festivals popping up at the community rec center on Elberta Drive. Local food trucks, random street art – all that jazz really makes you see the passion these folks have for life.

Class is in session: Young Spanish Fork baseball team starting to earn good grades