Cursed from Birth.

Lying in my hotel room time crawls past 2am - out in the dark musty halls crazed woman screams hatred and malice into uncaring night. Annoying cunt! I toss in fits of angst and nostalgia at the latest of predicaments that are of no faults but my own.

Not having enough for a room two days ago - I pawned my laptop after spending half the night resided to sleep in Balboa Park and I tell you right now them junkies and fags cruising nonstop can really tax a guy, you know. So, fed up with that shit and it just plain cold - round one in the morning, I slinked down to centro San Diego to take out the last of my last funds to pay one night. I was caught short but the queen at the reception took a liking to me and let me slide. Slept in a foul room that appeared not to been rented in decades - dust poofs out from between mattress when Your Reporter plops his weary carcass down for the night.

Next day, shivering in the China Blue morning and in contempt for my bad luck - I marched a block to the Pawn Shop and hawked my laptop - no worries, I tell myself, will be receiving first of three check this Friday. I pay the room, buy some smokes and munch on toast and sip good coffee at Lee's Cafe.

I figure should keep my options open just in case I get the full Wrath of God shoved up my ass - so I jump the trolley down Mexico way and check out the scene. Same old shit. I trudge along garbage covered streets as Indian women wrapped in burlap arms out for money holding dirty fat babies block my way, taxi drivers all on the hustle, pimps, junkies and whores of both sexes clog the teeming sad weary streets under that blasting unrelenting Mexican sky. I decide to look up some old friends and get the bum kicks when I find out through due process that they are all gone. At Cafe Patio only Daniel remains and he and I chatted it up. Thinking of moving back - but I really don't wanna.

My life was cursed from birth and to live up to that fact, no money today. SSI says won't be deposited till Sunday and Monday and that three hundred from the IRS is freefall in the mail - seems I am always caught a day short. Well, I guess another free for all blood guts or nothing night in Balboa Park seems to be in order...