Not Too Bad Apart From Being Skint

(🎇🀣) I’ve got to be dead honest here, I’m in a transformative phase due to lack of cash. I got my pay day mixed up by five revolutions. I’ve got porridge and juice in and that’s it. Maybe some toast. I applied for an advance loan and they politely told me to go and die alone next to my empty cupboards. I’m strolling past the beer gardens wondering about how good I’ve had it for the last couple of years, a monkey in the bank every two weeks and more on top. Now my funds have been slashed by a large chunk and I’m left scrimping and scraping the rest.

____________________

I could habitually afford 3 or so cocaine days a month.

Now I’m down to one. With virtually nothing left. Other than porridge and toast.

I don’t like porridge and toast. I like Orphan Makers.

_________________

Orphan Makers are expensive Chinese meals, so called because the Albanians will kill you for one! Should see my salt ‘n’ pepper selection at the local all-you-can-eat Eastern Orient Buffet Restaurant. I’d kill you for one.

I can’t even afford ciggies. I just found a ~ King Docker ~ on the floor outside the pub and swiped it up into my pocket. Disgusting I know is, ducking for dimps. There’s literally nowhere to turn. I may as well give up drinking and smoking if I can go five days without.

Without money, I’m suddenly thinking about exercising to pass the time. And I’m dying for a blowout. When I do finally get paid, God help my will power. There’ll be none of it existing. I’m virtually up for anything. Crack, smack, and scrumpy jack are go.

I am able to attain a couple of microwave meals in the night shelter. It’s known as The Ratty. Bit rough ain’t quite enough to describe it. It used to be okay, when it was better run, a decent place for the struggling, but now it’s been taken over by druggies, like one or two other institutions I’m aware of. We won’t name any names, but James Lee House, a former stepping stone hostel of mine, is one of them. Used to be so much better.

Many things have gone downhill, haven’t they, thinking about it. The food bank is one more example. I remember one time they fobbed me off with a frozen turkey. I felt like an unholy butcher when I dismembered it with a knife. The whole ordeal was sacrilege. The Y.M.C.A too. Soup kitchens. Anything that’s basically a needed lifeline and irreplaceable. Everything just seems to be getting worse and not better. Even my barber has gone AWOL, so I can’t get the buzz cut I appreciate the best. If I could afford a buzz cut, that is. I can’t afford nish at the moment.

It’s tuff on me, isn’t it?

I could have been a wealthy man if I was wiser.