Chintzy Stetson sees passing faces in collaborators. They do a take and leave. It’s a dirty motel. The ashtray should have been emptied weeks ago. But the music won’t stop playing. Even if you beg it too.

There was a woman who wore a juicy couture tracksuit, with the rhinestones on the back. She paid for the suite every Friday night. She sold drugs in bin liners and sat on the floor by the bar. She disappeared 2 years ago. I call the hotel every now and then but they say they’ve never seen her before.

I called her Chintzy. She called me Stetson.

Chintzy 💋

Chintzy Stetson is following