And so, the previous week it had started. I began that TEFL class that I had been going on about for so long. It seems fairly simple, it is just a lot of text book reading and cramming of information. I miss-read the starting pages and spent an entire day reading the wrong textbook - 197 pages. I was highly confused, I didn't understand a word of it. The following day when I noticed I had studied the wrong one, I began a new and it is far much easier. So stupid I can be sometimes.
This transitional housing crap has went on for ten months too long. I am going to rent an apartment in Mexicali tomorrow with the assistance of Skipper, that sea fairing hobo of yore. I just need a year. I year to write another novel (well, rewrite another novel) and save money. A year to dodge the all seeing eye of the government and then skip out of this country for good.
My main complaint of this small community is that there is nothing in Calexico per se; everything - social security wise and mental health wise - is located eleven miles north in El Centro. What a drag it is to take an always packed bus of locals up there. The positive is that I get a higher pay rate because of California's living scale. I now wait patiently on my MediCal card for my meds.
On the writing front, I have begun collating a new and improved version of the Borrowed Flesh novel. It will be heavily inspired - in writing style and look - to Naked Lunch, who'se demented, surreal prose instigated all this madness. Also, I will write a novelization to the pilot episode of Star Trek called The Cage. So, I will at least keep myself busy the following months. Oh, and I will be reporting on Mexicali for you filth freaks, so don't begin your tired sighs of disillusionment quite yet.Nothing is real. Everything is permitted.