Stream of Conciousness.

No matter, it seems, where I am at - either it be in a filthy shelter or the slums of a foreign county - I seem to be getting more and more sidetracked from my goal. It is true in the last two months I have squandered much of that large sump of money bestowed on me by the Powers That Be. Most of it has been wasted on boys and booze. More booze than boys, I regretfully must admit. The last three big guys in my life all have used their hustler wiles to their benefit and I had been suckered straight into their maw.

All until now. I have wised up a bit and cut all three happily and regretfully from my life. Carlos, Enrique, and with much restraint, Marlon. Uh, Marlon - where to explain that one? You want to piss me off - play with my emotions. That is one thing I can not tolerate from anyone. Fine - you want to swindle me for beer or food - but don't fuck with what is left of my heart. For the last two weeks this Marlon character has played me like a harp from Hell and usually when I listen to my guts and follow my instincts - however fucked up they may be - I never deter from my decision. He seemed like a nice guy - but the stench of deception clung to him like dried semen on the jacket of a pedophile.

Where was I? Oh yeah - Marlon - thank you. As I was blathering - I had no idea where he stood. He never asked for money, which is odd but true, but he was always wishy washy over what was going on in our friendship. I'm straight, he would thunder all the while beating his chest - but continued to visit me (even after a small dramatic event in which I roared at him in the middle of the night in the middle of the street never to contact me again.) he would come look for me while I drank my sorrows away in liters of booze and - are ya ready - he would instigate the sexual liaisons, not me. But - and this but is where it gets wacky - I truly started to have an attraction - strong dirct emotional feelings, something that has eluded me for so long - for him and in a tender and romantic soliloquy explained myself. In which he blankly responded to nothing. Yeah, sad high school drama to say the least. That is why I had excised him out - I don't take sappy irreverence of emotions very well. And I tell you, I am one depressed cowboy because of it.

So, I am back at square one. Money mostly squandered and alone. I am wondering if I should return to my old haunts surrounded by thugs, drug addicts, thieves, and whores. I seemed happier then. But I have reservations.

CUT TO:

Interior: Offices of Control - Night

Dark and musty office of Control. The Case Worker sits behind his cluttered desk reading reports. Behind him is a large burly man in a black pins stripped suit and black fedora. It is deathly silent save for the clicking of machinery and hissing of a radiator.

BURLY MAN:

It seems your numero uno agent's got fear in him. In my opinion, he's a pussy.

CASE WORKER:

The withering faggot! What is he up to?

BURLY MAN:

Yeah, he's a pussy! Pussy. Pussy. Pussy.

The case Worker leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers.

CASE WORKER:

Yeah, but he's my pussy.

Fade out.

So, as I was saying - maybe it is a good time to change latitudes. I need to save my checks but I don't wish to deteriorate into a bitter hermit homosexual. What a conundrum. Again, why should I change my enjoyment in life through the case of a few jerks - even though wading through 20 years of their kind can be a little taxing - perhaps...oh, I don't know. That is the whole thing - mentally. What are my plans? Where am I going with life? What do I want? The answer is simple...

I don't know.