Tramps Beg For Change On The Streets! Leave Me Be!

It's funny that Hot Baby Roy seems so developed these days (even though disaster threatens to rear its head at any minute). He was always the one out of us that I thought was the one you could depend on to be doing worse than you. I think maybe Fabian Wildman thought that about me, but I've a shit job and a great girlfriend so I've gained a lot more than I started with at the beginning of this blog.

Even though he's meant to be getting off crack for good I thought Fabian Wildman was the one person I knew who had really let themselves go. That was until I came across Panther Man the other day. He was sitting down the back of Queen Street drinking scrounged up cider with Foosted Wotsit Head. I remember he used to wear black velvet and slink around the place giving out faux/obvious wisdom to all the banal fuckers who'd lap it up. It wasn't a bad racket, certainly better than scrounging up change.

They asked me if I'd some money for Buckfast because then they could make Solzenicyn.

I told them there was no cider in Solzenicyn and they gleefully waved a bottle of brown lemonade at me.

There was a time I'd have sat and joined them, another I'd have mugged them for their coppers and silvers, this time I shrugged and walked away down the street.

Am I turning mean? I guess Bowie knows.

Derry - City Of Culture

I went back to work today. Betty Blue wasn't there and neither was Kissy Boy. They were probably at home fucking and getting fucked like rapists in prison.

After work I went into town and bought some spandex. I was walking up Queen St when I came across Rock and Roll Stephen hanging out on the corner with his guitar in his hand.

I asked him what he was doing and he said he was buying some sausage rolls because he was getting ready to walk to Derry. He was saying that Derry was the city of culture and that he was going to walk there with his guitar in hand and get a garret and write some poetry while smoking rollies and walking around drunk and get chicks and feel like a really rock and roll kid. I sniggered a big because I don't think he knows I call him Rock and Roll Stephen.

I told him that The Indie Kid gave me his book of rhymes before he went back to culchie land. And Rock and Roll Stephen's jaw just dropped and he said that The Indie Kid told him he burnt it.

Tears started running down his face and he said after he managed to get control of himself:

"I guess you really were the smoker."

Then he wandered off in the direction of the motorway singing an old out of tune Libertines song.

Foosted Wotsit Head Has Dreams of Wino Jo

I ran into Foosted Wotsit head today at the back of Queen St he was trying to open a can of beans by smashing it off some bricks. I explained the wee ring pull on it and how it works and in no time Foosted Wotsit head was tucking into a meal of cold beans. It was a small consolation because he was shaking them all over himself with his DTs.

Anyways, I asked him if he'd seen Wino Jo.

"Only in my dreams," he said giving me this really startled look.

This was a bit worrying because Foosted Wotsit head has all these dreams about missing persons. In his dreams he usually has a violent encounter with them. I've sometimes suspected they're memories instead of dreams but Wino Jo always said Foosted Wotsit head was harmless. It was strange he was so sure since none of the missing people ever turned up again. Anyways, I hope to fuck he's just having a funny turn.

It was a weird one too and this song by the Carpenters really sums up how I feel at the mo. Walking around like some kind of lonely clown How did she know?

Begging in Belfast

I was sitting begging in town yesterday when Foosted Wotsit Head asked me for change. I told him that I was doing my own begging and he should go find a pitch of his own. He went down the street and sat on the opposite side of the road.

I felt bad for him because in a way begging for me is slumming it: I'm well enough kept on the dole.

At about lunch time I had enough for two three litre bottles of cider so I went and asked him if he wanted to go for one, my treat.

We went and sat out the back of Queen Street and he told me that he hasn't seen Wino Jo in ages and that even he's starting to get worried about him.

The last any of us saw of Wino Jo was Christmas and he's been away longer so I think he was just making conversation.

When it got dark we managed to bust into a building and sit in the stairwell. Foosted Wotsit head said he used to go to parties here but they kept getting busted by the cops so they stopped having them.

I left him and went home. I gave him a tenner and told him to get himself into Garmoyle St for the night because a stairwell was no place to sleep.

Then I went home and had a chilled evening in the house with Battle Cat and Fabian Wildman. Betty Blue called round late in the evening and her and Fabian disapeared up the stairs with a bowl of boiled eggs.

I sat and told Battle Cat that I was going to give up crack and begging and me and him could go out for more walks. He smiled at me, even though dogs don't smile.

Where is Wino Jo?

Fabian Wildman's been sitting in his room all depressed since he brought Battle Cat back from his walk the other day. I feel sorry for him but he's doing really well with staying off crack. He said at breakfast this morning that he wanted to look for a job. It makes me think I should maybe get my own act together.

I went out for a walk to mull things over. I met Hooka at the top of the street. She asked me if I poured milk through her letter box. I told her no and that it was probably the wee spides who kick bins over. She told me that it took her ages to convince Fat Rab not to go round to mine to fight me. I told her I didn't care if he came round because I'd knock his fat ugly ass out. I also told her that was no way to thank someone who had looked after her pet all week and that maybe if she wanted me to help her out in future I'd see some more manners from her between now and then. She looked all shocked at me but I just walked off up the street.

I was worried because I got a call from my metaller brother last night saying no one's seen Wino Jo in ages. I rang round the hot shot banker and the fruitarian and they said they'd not heard from him. Then I realised that none of them ever heard anything from him. I was the only one who saw him except for at holidays or "family" things.

I checked the Stella Maris hostel in Garmoyle Street, which is where he normally stays. They hadn't heard from him. I checked round at the back of Queen St. Foosted Wotsit Head told me he hadn't seen him all year. Then he hicked a laugh because it had only been a week and a half. I told him if he sees him to get him to call me.

Wino Jo goes wandering off all the time and he's been missing for longer than this before so I'm not going to get too worried about it yet. Strange that the rest noticed this time.

I spent all yesterday boking and convulsing, so it was nice to sit out in my back garden with a cup of tea today. Hooka was out in her garden with big swollen face. She came over to talk to me and I was happy for her to see that the cop hadn't put any of her teeth out.

She told me all about how they were just getting ready to celebrate the pagan new year, which she says happens at Hallowe'en, and how poor Fat Rab and The Death Owl were now locked up and she was all on her own. I didn't know what to say to this but out of the blue she said.

"you know, you've nice eyes when they're not bloodshot."

Poor Hooka, she seemed really lonely but then her house is full of dead goat blood, so I'm not going to go in and keep her company.

I was thinking that because it's the pagan new year I might as well make some new year's resolutions. My system is pretty clear of drugs I'd guess, crack and coke anyway; I'm not twitching as much so it must be. I decided I'd give up the drugs. Illegal ones anyway, that and robbing people's houses.

I went into town to buy myself a present to say well done. I went into an art shop on Queen St where I used to buy felt-tips to sniff but the big fat woman behind the counter who looked like family guy was hassling some kids about trying to knick stuff so I pocketed some felt tips and some spray mount and went outside and gave it to the kids. Then I went and bought myself a big bag of buns and an Usher CD. I looked for a poster of Hermione Granger but there weren't any.