Well fuck me in a cow turbine, shit is getting real over here. I don't know if I should call him my boyfriend yet, but the person I'm talking to has simultaneously made me happier than a pit bull eating mayonnaise and more paranoid than when I buy my meth from strangers at the park. On one hand, holy fuck this person is me but still has to go through all the lessons I've had on my journey. That's actually why I posted my first book yesterday; they reminded me that I was like that once. For instance, they are entitled as a mother fucker but still have a heart of gold. I got a sweet spot in my heart for that, which brings me to my next point.

It's entirely possible this dude is stalking me so he could create an ideal story about himself so he could win me over and profit. He already asked for money, for buttloads of weed no less. That really triggers the warning lights of a red flag in my crazy head. But, this seems to just be his character, because he's currently trying to scam Donald Trump out of twenty-seven million dollars. Fun story.

I dwelt on this for most of last night, writing a poem about it even. But, God set my mind straight and made me remember a good friend of mine who bought me a brand new computer just three days after meeting me, back when I was truly alone and deplorable. I've said I will repay my debt, and I am going to, but God gave me a fat freebie on this anyways.

The synchronicities were wild at the start of this month and they told me I should go back home to Syracuse. Well, I bought a ticket and immediately the aliens reversed their directions, leaving me with a nonrefundable voucher for a bus ride in the next year. Great, I thought until now, where I said great, this is exactly what I need. My new friend is in a bad situation, walking miles everyday to eat out of trash cans, getting terrible sleep on uneven ground by busy streets, and in an unfortunate legal kerfuffle involving a clown and five castrated ducks. Why not bring him here?

The potential of this situation has me eager as a beaver. Like, we'll be able to hold hands while we explore the city, enjoy the occasional delight of culture, food, or experience, and get a place together if this program helps me, or protect each other if they don't. More important to my hierarchy of needs though is I'll be able to be this fuckers teacher, and he'll be mine. We each have a world of experiences and the wisdom we gained from them to share with the other, and that sort of shit fills me to the brim with feelings of purpose and connection.

But, there's a downside too: money. Butt-monkey is stalwart about not getting a job, and I sure as fuck am dragging my feet on that front too. Fortunately, I'm, like, an amazing talented genius, and can scrape up some dough whenever I need. Which, and you're going to love this so you best be sitting down, is why I finally got my ass out of park and went Mach Sixty-Nine on publishing my new book on Amazon this morning! Now, it takes seventy-two hours before it shows up in the marketplace, but I managed to copy-paste that sucker together without it crashing on my cheap ass phone like a boss.

Price is $6.66 for like six hundred pages of my best writing in one package. Sorry if Amazon is not an ideal place to buy from for you, but it's a bitch being homeless and trying to manage stuff like taxes and alien orgies in my head makes my plan of getting my book on every platform difficult at this time. Also, there's no way for me to make a table of contents on my phone, so consider this the first edition, and future releases will be out sometime down the line when I got my shit together finally. Nyaaaa that's all folks!