I'm Tickled Pink...

To fully enjoy this report, please play the video during the following. Thank you. - the management.

Woke up in the hotel room with a shock of paranoia. I grabbed the phone and called Primavera, inquiring if they had any bunks. "Yes, we do." Oh happy day! Damn that was simple! After giving the voice my social security number, he then informed me that I was on a bedding list for yesterday and since I never showed up, I was marked as awol and cannot return for 30 days. In my mind I was screaming what the fuck as I calmly explained that the only thing I had signed up for since my arrival in Tucson last Friday was for housing. The voice stated, now that he looked over whatever paper work was in his hand, that what i stated was true and that I needed to come to the shelter at one in the afternoon for processing.

Checked out of the hotel, stopped for coffee downtown and made my way to the southside of Tucson to Primavera Men's Shelter. It hadn't changed much. A huge corrugated iron building housing 200 men on any given night. The building is centrally located with many shops, convenient stores, and fast food chains nearby. Unlike the mission in El Paso, Primevera is exceptionally clean and the staff are not only helpful but very positive. A far cry from the vindictive, hope-draining, soul crushing staff in El Paso.

After being process and receiving a bunk, mostly I sat around smoking and chatting with fellow residents. The first was Dakota - or "Cota" - a handsome, early twenties wing nut. His shaven head, blue eyes, black goatee, and slim body made you forget that he was nuttier than squirrel shit. Another was a small, white guy who's name I had forgot. But the aura of late night truck stop restrooms, back alley tricks, and flea-bag hotel whoring clung to him like semen on a pedophiles hands. After he bummed a smoke, the rough con look of him melted away as his inner faggot began to emerge. Lastly, there was a tall, thin black guy in his early twenties who definitely had the gift of gab. Very good looking, but there was pain and sorrow deep down in those big, brown eyes.

Dinner rolled around and I sat in the cafeteria eating as a slew of hobos around me devoured their meal like famished hyenas. It was some sort of gloop. Bread, broccoli, mystery meat, and gravy all mixed in together and surprisingly good. I even went back for seconds.

After dinner and after more smoking and chatting with my hobosexual friends, I lay on my cot and thought of what am I to do? I have already signed up for public housing through Primavera in which the caseworker stated that an apartment would be available in two weeks. I will save money for furniture and clothes - I definitely need new clothes! I like Tucson. It's small yet hip and progressive. And a thriving art community. Not anything like that laughable shit that was being passed off as art in El Paso. However, if Tucson does not agree with me, Los Angeles is always just a forty dollar bus trip away...