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I was sitting in the Hollywood hawaiian hotel
& I was staring at my empty coffee cup
I was thinking that the Gypsy was right
all the salty margaritas in Los Angeles
I'm gonna drink 'em up

Desperados under the eaves- Warren Zevon

16 days now, more or less. I have been hanging here, in the lobby of lower Anaheim. I am waiting for something. I don't know what it is yet, but I will know it when I see it. She left to go get another bottle and some Grapefruit juice. She took my wallet and my car. I hated the car, but the wallet had a certain emotional attachment. Since the room is paid for with the credit card I thought, whatthehell, why not just stay here. Room service is lousy, but it goes on the bill.

At the end of the month Raul is supposed to be heading south and I will probably go with him. He doesn't know that yet, but he's never been a plan ahead type of guy. As long as I ride shotgun and don't talk too much we get along fine. Unless little miss sincerity strolls back in the lobby I have no better place to be. My probation officer doesn't know I am here and my ex-wife thinks I'm in Denver. If this is purgatory, at least it's got a pool.

The ballgame starts at 3 on the big screen in the bar- I think I can win some serious cash from the geezer who comes in here on Tuesdays. It is Tuesday, right?

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