Kissy Chrissy

Kissy Chrissy comes over, at 0400. Groan.. I am mad at her, but let her in and she is sacked out now on my Coleman air bed with a Solaron Tiger acrylic blanket, one of my pillows.  *Sigh*.

At 47 she STILL look good..although she is gettin a gut.  She must have been indescribably beautiful when she was in her first bloom.  I got mad at her last night ‘cos she was drinking beer.. hustling too.  When will people EVER learn?  At night this place crawls with people who are out of prison, out of jail, and bad things happen.  It is like a monster movie.

This is NOT the suburbs, especially for the homeless walking around hustling one another.  They are out there, trying to dig up whatever they can, plus other predators prey on the more vulnerable.

Chris must get more excercise than most of the joggers around here- because she has to.  Her feet are dirty, bunions forming, calloused, but still wonderfully formed.  Her skin tans out, and it is not a tanning bed.  She has this freckled, olive skin.  The pain she puts herself through is most intense.  I hate it when people just- land in my lap.  I get mad at her, then relent as I try to make her comfortable.. even though she has disturbed my rest period- the weekend.  The weekends I do not party, but conserve my energy for my work.

I have mentally just washed my hands of Kissy Chris many times.  She drive me nuts.  She won’t just STAY inside..but has to be in constant motion.. she has constant adventure.  I told her..”just STAY here.  I will give you some money, just stay still, here, where it is safe.”

The homeless..the big problem seems ALWAYS to be drink and drugs.  The restlessness and lack of mental control that come with their use make them founder in this world.  To make some money, make a living, you have to serve somebody.  To have a purpose for yourself.

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