Angelina Grapevine 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.

What is the Reykjavik Grapevine?

From Iceland — I'm Not A Slut; I'm A Whore. The Reykjavik Grapevine. Mag · Culture · Music · Travel · News · Best Of · Events · Shop. Search for.

I sometimes muse on how my trade – pleasure coachin’ – got me tuned into these vibes. I notice every snicker of a kiosk, every laugh bubble from local chatter. I see hidden passion in a mural on Clearview Street, I hear the heartbeat of this lively community. Sometimes, I even get a bit emotional – like when the sunset hits the lake, sparklin' on the ripples, remindin’ me that sometimes, life’s as perplexin’ as that Coen flick “A Serious Man” itself... “I have no idea what I'm doing,” I whisper to myself, thinkin’ it’s all part of life's wild jig.

At 16, she got a job at a Grapevine ice cream parlor. At 22, she owns the place.