El Paso City Doldrums

What to do? What to do?

Sure, you may think I enjoy living in squalor bunking in a shelter's dormitory with a flea bitten dog, and bed bugs, and the disgustingly obese who lay in there bunks day in and day out eating boxes of doughnuts and pizzas (smell of halitosis and flatulence and sour feet.) all the while belching the rules and regulations on those they do not favor - them rules being no eating in the dorm and no animals. But, I digress...I digress.

Years ago - when I started this experiment - I had a obnoxiously low opinion on our nation's homeless populace. It has not gotten better over time - but progressively worse. I still believe we should ship the entire hobo population to Catalina Island (Changing it's name to Trampylvania.) off the coast of California and then declare war on them and bomb it.

Ahem.

So, where was I? Ah yes - what to do. I really need to get down south to The Golden Countries - but our grand State won't let me attain a passport because of a warrant in San Diego. Didn't pay a buck fifty for a couple of trolley fares over two years ago - so I was cited, disappeared and now the warrants are a thousand dollars. In land of the free, home of the brave....

Okay - so, decided to relocate back to El Pisso to attend a class on teaching English as a second language to fall back on just in case my venture goes awry in Central America. However, I am met with hostilities at said Mission and it is time to go. On the first I will rent a room in some sleazy junky hotel, of course and see what happens then. Attending said college course, writing The Novel on my scuffed up laptop, and scoring kicks along the way.

How am I spending my days you ask? Pffft! Walking around giving the glad hand, talking with the indigenous faggotry, flirting with the boys from the local halfway house that haunt the Placita. Troll the feelthy back alleys for a lil' hoodileehoo (Thanks Alejandro - you suck like a Hoover!) Or I stare out into space - plotting my next course. Gads. At night - I lay in my bunk and read Jack Kerouac's On the Road and I get antsy - gotta go gotta go...Gotta meet Moriarty and Paradise in Mexico!!

Though, the idea of staying in El Paso is also pleasant somewhat for these weary bones - fancied opening a bar here.

I'll call it The Horny Toad.