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Fred Marsh, a close family friend, died earlier this week. His funeral is this weekend and my parents and brother are going, but I can't afford to go. I don't have enough money, I don't have enough days paid in rent, I don't have enough dope to get me through the weekend. And what about Cat? I guess Greg could come feed Kitty but still, I can't go out of town longer than overnight. Whatever.

I have terrible staph infections on both my feet and can't wear shoes at all, not even fuzzy slippers. Goddamn they hurt. I remember once when I had staph I got an IV port for antibiotics and i didn't have to stick myself at all for a week. Having a direct line was awesome. I hope I get another one, my veins are sons of bitches. But shit, my feeties hurt.

Kitty keeps tearing up toilet paper rolls. What, am I not feeding her enough?

I've been drinking nightly with the other people in my building. One thing I've noticed- there's a couple advantages to living in the poorhouse. When you live in a suburban house, you have the same neighbors for years and you get sick of looking at their faces. The poorhouse (motels, weeklies, crack-huts, etc) have a wonderfully transient population. People stay from 3 days to 6 months before moving, so you're bound to find at least one cool person among them. And if someone moves in that you simply can't stand, you know they'll be gone soon enough and if they aren't, it's not too much trouble for you to move. I've lived in at least 50 different poorhouses just in the city of Lake Worth, and that's not counting all the places in West Palm, Boynton, Greenacres, Royal Palm, Palm Springs, Riviera, Lake Park, North Palm, Wellington, etc.

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