Thanksgiving Morning - Hotel San Miguel
Should I be thankful? I'm alive. Don't know how - why. Not planned, nor foreseen. I prepared for an end that didn't come - an end that I'd convinced myself my war-weary spirit craved. What do I do now? No sense - scraps of memory with black holes of nothing. Perhaps, if I try reasoning it out on paper as I've always done, I'll find the key. The key must be there. The memories must be there. The sense of it all must be there. How can it not be?
Where do I start? With reality, I guess - the here & now.
Hotel San Miguel: a place where lost souls hit bottom - stinks - loaded with roaches. I don't know how I got here. 1 wk ago, I woke here. Strange rm. numbering system - not many rms, yet I'm in 666. My clothes not mine - too sml. - stank of oil & filth. No ID, $200 in my pocket, a rm. key, safe deposit key. I was a mess - like I'd been beaten to a pulp. Hands bandaged - raw & peeling - like worst sunburn ever - same with front part of body - face, neck, chest, legs. Arms & shoulders OK - more protected. Hearing is bad - one ear rings, other muffled. 1st my eyes had a dark spot in the center, but that's improving, I think - not sure. They tire easily, so with hands awkward & painful & bad eyes, I'll not be able to write much.
Maybe just as well - need time to absorb, grasp at fragments, sort through. I'm frozen in place - confusion, some feeling akin to panic. I've reached for my "Sight". I need its help, but it's gone. That place is empty - cold like a cinder. I'm completely on my own against what I know not. I dare involve no one until I discover what happened - and I fear only my own mind can tell me that.
When I woke, I had no idea what day it was. Hid in here, trying to piece things together, til nature called - had to use facilities - down hall. Then got a good look at myself - little hair, no eyebrows or eyelashes - all singed off. Found a stack of newspapers - borrowed them - & found this note pad in a pile of trash in the stairwell. I've not dared to go further yet. Hard to read at 1st w/o cent. vision - still hard - eyes tire, then merely seeing is difficult. Don't know what to make of the papers.
My neighbors: in rm. across the hall - 4 "strawberries" - kids trading sex for drugs - can't be out of their teens. I gave them a few $$ to get me food - ended up with a jar of instant coffee & 50 packets of ramen noodles. It'll do - cash will dwindle fast. What then? I have my watch, but can't trust anyone to pawn it for me. Maybe shouldn't risk that anyway - not here. My finger is empty - only a wht. mark. Why? Another black hole.
Yng. man down the hall - Charlie - a godsend - a Dr. - got hooked on hosp. drugs during residency. Started with uppers to keep going, downers to sleep, uppers to wake up, & coke to have instant fun. Now heroin, God knows what else, & AIDS. Still, he's a good kid - would have made a fine Dr. Sold me his radio & helped with my burns for a fee.
Won't be able to trust anyone very long. Sooner or later someone will add 2+2 - they'll need a hit - would sell their soul for it.
Salvation Army - across St. - free Thanksgiving. I'd give anything for turkey &
trimmings, but I'd scare them to death. Maybe I can pay one of the girls to bring me
something. Dare I spend the money? I have the key, but I have to get there. Wouldn't be able to sign right - no ID so must sign right. All now - eyes hurt - more later.
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