Cry of the vatos.

Blech.

After settling in, I showed Tony the sights in Tijuana. We visited some of the bars I hung out at, got drunk, and in El Ranchero I talked with some old friends. Again, the whispers were that I was in jail, another was that I was dead from AIDS. Why is it when I disappear I always hafta be dead from AIDS? Gossipy queers. Well, Tony and I and a few friends got pretty ripped and partied in the Red Zone. Nothing like dancing the night away with skanky heroin addicted trannies. Anyway, the worst thing that happened was that Tony and I were coming out of Bar Kin-Kle and we were rolled by the motherfucking cops! They took all our money! All of it! The only cash we had was about thirty dollars that was left back at the hotel room. Black winds of darkness were blowing I tell you, Dear Reader.

Tony and I were so upset that that night in our rented room, we made so much noise fucking the next day the Landlord kept looking at us with evil glances and sour looks as we used the sink and shower in the hall.

We crossed the frontera and arrived early at St. Vincent’s but even though we were sixth and seventh in line, there still weren’t any beds available. Though we were pissed off, we spent the day digging San Diego. I showed Tony Balboa Park and The Gaslamp District and we walked around Hillcrest. We met this one hip black guy and he gave us some coke. Snort! Wheeee! That was nice of him. Last night we enjoyed ourselves in our room in Tijuana. But, I informed Tony that it was the last night. I had no more money.

I had no idea what I was going to do. The most savage and bitter thing was that I had no where to store my black footlocker that had all my personal stuff in. I had packed my footlocker with all my personal books, writing, photos, CD's, and DVD collection before I left Juarez City and hauled it along. At the Greyhound, they would hold it only for two days, after that they would charge me for storage or throw it away. In a fit of panic, I was forced to keep only my photo album and a couple of journals in my backpack, the rest I resigned to let go. Tony convinced me to sell my CD and DVD collection at a pawnshop and that cash gave us food and rent and some weed for the night. In that little room, on that squeaky bed, I snapped. I began to sob uncontrollably. I realized I had just lost all the things dear to me.

Things look pretty bleak. I went downstairs and next to the laundromat in Hotel Colisio is a dinky Cafe Internet and I spent twenty pesos just to type this out and gotta cut short. Tomorrow will try to secure a place in Vinnies again, if not. If not....shit.