Drunks, Fights

One half of people are drug addicts around here, the other half are drunks. So it seems. Yesterday the girl next door hustles Bambi for some liquor. Tanya already three sheets to the wind, out there loud with another chick. She kisses me;  disgusted, I am having none of it.

I observe one disheveled looking women walking down the street with her face and eye all blacked up.   It is dusk, now the drunks are out front.  The one guy is living in a small basement apartment with a bunch o’ kids.  Once,  I counted 11 people going down to that apartment.  They were fighting out in the hallway last Sunday also.  Didn’t observe that one.

There are girls up and down the avenue,  cheap too,  if you like a drug addict girl.  You might get more than you bargained for.  I have known many of them,  and find them boring and not worthwhile.  However, once you get to know them, they are the most miserable creatures.

Bambi does good for the world, with her cataracts, Type 1 diabetes and everything else.   There are plenty of people to help in this world.    I’ve heard this bullshit from these hustlers a hundred times.  The whole book screams “Feel sorry for me! and DONATE DONATE DONATE!.”  I will send her my donation- a cigarette butt I found.

My sister just had pancreatitis, has a ton of problems, was on a ventilator all winter.  She never sold her body, nor smoked crack.  My brother is slowly breaking down at his job,  and has to see a liver specialist this week.  There are PLENTY of people to feel sorry for.

People in Northeast are like animals.  How I long to split, and go back down to Mexico.  It was BETTER down there.    My relatives keep getting ill, getting killed in accidents, and they don’t drink, they don’t do crack or whore.

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