It's 0930 on a Sunday morning, and I just made my first drink. Man even when I used to drink I never started this early. I've been fucking sober all Summer, holding down a job, loving on dogs and not fighting with anyone.

All of those things no longer exist, and I'll be on the street in nine days, ten if you count today. I actually was given a thirty days notice, but I'm not going to insult the owner of this trailer park by asking for a half months rent. It's bad enough that I'm bailing on him after just one month.

It's really almost funny if it wasn't so fucked up. I lived in this trailer with no toilet or running water for two months while I worked at the resort. I showered and shit at work, and shit in the Park on my days off. I pissed out in the open of that neighborhood, behind the trailer hitch. I dumped my overnight pee jug along the fence every morning. Now I have those things available, and they soon will be gone.

I guess life comes down to where you go to the bathroom...

And it's all because I didn't want to get the floors of this RV repaired right away. I just moved in, been here less than a month, enjoying running water and being by a beach. I spent the Summer with crappy floors!

Oh well, it is what is. I have become the old asshole, and I'm being kicked out. I loved my little house at the end of Lee street in Tennessee. I could have died there and died content. But instead I was brought down to Florida, hurt everyone around me, and now I'm on the street.

I honestly don't know what comes next. Riley's offered to help me find housing, but I don't care anymore. Life is an adventure and me and my suitcase will try to find it, if I don't die of alcohol abuse first, or drown in the ocean. Rock onward!