Mila Maynard Whore ❤️

About San Diego

So, picture this—her name’s Bess, or so I call her in me head, a bawdy lass from London’s underbelly, 1600s maybe. She’s no prim rose, nah, but a wild weed, bloomin’ where she oughtn’t. Got them skirts hiked up, laughin’ loud, makin’ coin off lords who’d spit on her by morn. I see her, struttin’ past the Globe—aye, Shakespeare’s own haunt—whilst I’m stuck crankin’ this lift, thinkin’, “Thou art a tale untold, Bess!” She’s got eyes like stormy seas, drownin’ fools who stare too long. “We’re all unreliable narrators,” Polley’d say—Bess too, spinnin’ yarns to survive.

Editor’s picks

24 - Maynard opening the Los Angeles gig by telling the LA Audience “Put your phone in your f'n pocket and leave it - don't be a crack whore!.

Thsi city... it’s not for everyone. Its streets wind, twist, repeat. Sometimes I wonder if love even exists or if it’s just a fad run ragged. “Yooo, fuck it!,” I mutter sometimes—just to stay afloat.

Maynard Kemerer Obituary (1933 - 2025) - Dunnellon, FL - 352 Today