Loosey-goosy.

So I'm sitting on a curb wallerin' in my own sadness stirring a puddle of black iridescent water with a stick when a little fat ass cherub hurls itself outta a fuckin' cloud, flutters up all buttery like and whispers in my ear, "Go check your mail, dumb ass."

Trudge over to the Neal Goode Center - habitual flocking ground of San Diego's homeless elite wafting in that pungent smell of urine and rolled stale tobacco, and am surprised that I have received that IRS stimulus check just in the nick of time. As I open it the clouds part and a ray of light hits me with ethereal chorus in back ground and I hear a whispering soothing voice say, "I'll always look over you."

"Shaddap!" I retort, cash the check and rent a room for a month at the swanky ever so skanky beat hotel, The Plaza. Love the corner room, great view, writing desk, and just right to do my work. Now I can settle in and finish editing my book.

Ride the rickety elevator down and buy some new clothes, unpawn my laptop, and take in a viewing of Max Payne which of course was absolutely hideous. Jolted afterwards round the block to Borders' and bought a copy of William Burroughs's Jr.s biography Cursed from Birth - I had always wanted to read it and it is bout time I got literary, cabrones.

Night fell and Halloween was full swing in The City - streets swarming with costumed revelers, some quite impressive - bought a cheap trashy hooker outfit and clomped around 5th Ave. like a drugged up Courtney Love. Dropped a few beers at the Star Bar and camped it up (flicking cigarette ashes at the unwary tourist) with some hot guys dressed as cheerleaders they of the straight Navy inclinations and unknowing of my dastardly intentions. But, I was feeling it and around 1am I stumble all loosey-goosy back to my flat and crash watching Herschel Gordon Lewis' Blood Feast on cable.

Yes, all is well again in the Universe....