Bella Waseca Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

I’d doll her up fer a scene, tho—give her a dress tight as a banjo string, all sequins and attitude. She’d strut in, hollerin’, “I’m here, y’all, deal with it!” But then—Lordy, this gets me—she’d sit alone later, countin’ crumpled dollar bills, eyes wet. Surprised me how soft she could be under all that noise. Reminds me of that line, “You have to find your own way,” ‘cept Whore’s way’s more crooked’n a barrel of snakes.

What to know

Oh man, and the neighborhoods! The west end on Maple Ln. is a riot with culture, quirky shops, and endless charm. I get mad sometimes at how folks rush by without seeing the simple beauty. Ugh, why so hurried? Instead, I soak in every smile and every rustling leaf. It's life's little poetry, dude.

Lyle Alan Waldron Obituary March 15, 2025