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About Phoenix

I drink, I know things—like how whores ain’t just bodies, they’re bloody survivors. “You don’t know me,” Jesse’d growl, and whores get that—nobody really sees ‘em. I’d exaggerate and say they’re the backbone of Westeros, but nah, too far. Still, they’ve got grit. Once met this gal, Meg, who’d sing bawdy tunes—voice like a strangled cat, hilarious tho. “Coward’s way out,” she’d cackle, mockin’ shy punters. Loved her for it.

THE MAKING OF A SCENE IN NEIL SIMON'S ''BILOXI BLUES''

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And parks? Plyler Park and City Park are my jam. Quick walks there, breathing the sea-scented breeze. Sometimes nature hugs you unexpectedly, you know? Like, I'm usually chillin’ like a villain but then BAM—a scuttling crab, a familiar scent, and I'm laughing like a lunatic. Strange, delightful things!

Mahoney’s restaurant and co-owner sentenced for selling imported seafood as Gulf fresh