California Paradise

Met up with another Runner. Real newbie little fucker, I think he's from the area, though he's not saying. Calls himself E. Seriously, what the ever-loving fuck is it with people going by one-letter names. Fucking hell, be a little creative, if you're not going to be using your real name.

I guess I shouldn't bitch too much. He's like... thirteen or fourteen. Weedy little brat. We don't normally do handouts, but kid looked like he could use a shower and a roof over his head for a night or two. Fuck, this is just going to bring more trouble down on our heads.

It doesn't help matters that's he's a filmer. Always got his goddamn camera out and running. Must eat batteries like hell. I asked, and he said he's not posting them anywhere, though he got really fucking twitchy when I was checking his things. Well, twitchier.

Harls met him earlier today on her way back home from work, and recognized the fucking symbol he has drawn on the shoulder of his jacket. Another fucking hoodie. Anyway, does anyone even fucking know what that fucking over-used, over-present symbol means? It just attracts attention, in my opinion. If you want to fucking lie low, you lie low. You don't go drawing shit all over. Anyway, I was suspicious at first, but the kid's harmless.

That's part of why I suspect he's a newb at this shit. Doubt he'd last long out there either way. The stuff he's got on him's good quality shit. Video camera, good quality backpack, fairly nice shoes. Had a suspicion that he's one of these "proxies" I keep hearing so much shit about., but this kid couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag, and you should've seen his face when he saw Harls starting to get sick again.

Yeah, she's been reasonable, but she's been worse-off at night recently than any other time.

Anyway, either that or he's a really fucking good actor. Doubt it, even in this town. He's asleep right now, taking over the extra bed. Snores like a fucking chainsaw, too. And yeah, he's got the goddamn camera up and running still, filming himself sleeping. How fucking ridiculous can you get, especially in a room with other people?

Sorry, been trying to work on the cussing, but it's obviously not sticking. It's just pretty much the only way for me to express the level of frustration and exasperation that's currently my usual state of being over the last few months, at least through text. I don't really cuss quite this much when actually talking to people in person. This is just me not bothering with the filters needed for face-to-face shit.

-Darts

Also, the fuck is up with the formatting on this post?

Waitin' For The Night

Made a pretty good haul today. It's actually pretty fucking fun to watch people while I play, all propped up on a stool and shit. They don't really see me as they pass by, sometimes. The ones that do, I kind of wonder what they see. Probably assume I'm just another homeless street bitch.

I had to go get my leg checked out yesterday, and it's still not healing quite right. I'll probably have a fucking limp for as long as I live. However long that is. We don't have the time or the money to get it reset, besides, they'd have to rebreak the bone and shit at this point. Like hell I'm going through that, especially right now.

Not with money tight like it is. I've been bringing in a reasonable amount every so often, but like I said, at times it's like people don't even see me. Like I'm in some kind of fog or some shit. That or the people around here are just fucking self-absorbed and need to pull their heads out of their asses.

Harls has been sick more often than not recently, though at least she's been able to work. Makes me wish I could hold a fucking job, especially with her always looking like she's seeing things out of the corner of her eye or some shit.

Been thinking a lot about home. Harls says she doesn't feel right talking about my folks and Delia, so I guess maybe I should. Fuck it, I don't even know if I should. They don't deserve this shit, and they've got enough to deal with when it comes to shit.

-Darts

Edit: Harls says I should elaborate. Very well, Miz Harlene.

I'm the older of two kids. Dellybird's got Cerebral Palsy, so she's in and out of the hospital all the time and really, she's not going to ever be able to fend for herself. Mom and dad have to focus on her a lot. I don't hold it against her. Delia is love. Her smile is like sunshine, to be completely fucking cliche about it.

She's the reason I went with Harls so easily, beyond loving my blondie girl. Delia can't get dragged into this shit. Ever.

Gotta Get Out Tonight

Okay, sorry I haven't fucking posted in a bit. It's been an ordeal focusing at times. Anyway, to the fucking point, tonight was... nice. We had a little date, talked about shit. It was actually fun, even with fucking shadows in the edges of everything.

Sitting there, talking and listening to music over dinner, I couldn't help but think again that Harls has the most gorgeous eyes, all bright and ice blue, not even dulled by the sickness she's been having to deal with over these last months. Legs that go on for years, and a body to die for... Or to kill for. She deserves better than this shithole. I have to figure out something. though... I suppose people are going to tell me there's nothing to fucking figure out. Just misery and fucking death. Well, they can shove that up their ass and light it.

We're still not moving on. My leg's healing slower than it should, and she's fluctuating into sickness too often. I know I should just stay still and let myself heal if I can, but I just can't stay still. It's not hurting as much these days, but I know it's not healing right. I can't just stay still and let the chickadee do all the fucking work to support us. Not with the way things are.

So here I sit, watching the window, watching the shadows move on the pavement, and loving a person who doesn't deserve to have dealt with any of this bullshit. Fuck moping and wangsting, though. It's a waste of fucking time and energy, and I can think of much better uses of those.

Little Lost Girls

Of all the fucking luck... She was fine yesterday, right? Harls, that is. All chirpy and chipper as hell, waking me up with singing and dancing around. Fucking adorable. And no, no matter what she's posted or going to post, I don't blame her for any of this shit. I chose to go with her. That's not the point though, is it? It's fucking nice to have little moments of happy.

Too bad that got thrown in the crapper today. She's sick as fuck again, coughing up blood, puking, weak as a baby, the works. I had to call her bitch-ass withered-tit cunt of a fucking manager today and tell her she couldn't come in. Contrary to what you might think, I was fucking nice about it, even though she was a bitch. Didn't want to get her fired, after all. Yeah, oh, Darts being nice. Anyone reading this probably thinks I'm a cunt, and I know it.

Well, I am. Anyway, I'm taking care of Harls right now, as best I can. This shit happens. Kind of cycles, though it's been getting worse over the last month or two. And of course it definitely gets worse under certain circumstances.

Treat the symptoms as best we can. I fucking hate seeing her like this. It's not fair that she takes the brunt of this shit. It's not. But it always seems to happen that way. It's always less for me. But I take care of her, and that's what fucking matters. We'll get through this, just like the other times.

It's okay... We'll be fucking fine, at least to an extent. She'll be fine tomorrow or the next day. That's just the way these things go. We've ridden it out before. Until then, I get to be the sexiest fucking nurse in ripped up jeans ever, right?

-Darts

American Nights

Fucking hell... Well, we're at the same hotel. It's probably fucking weird to some people who know anything about this shit that we are. Well, at the moment, we can't fucking move much. I wend an like the little idiot I am, got my leg broken over December. Badly. A lot of the cash we had has gone toward making sure my leg doesn't fuck up.

So I can't really work even odd jobs to get by. I can't even fucking shoplift, not that I'd really want to. Harls is working at this seedy little diner on top of the money we've nicked from her parents accounts, or what's left of it. It's been fucking months since her cards got cancelled, after all. I'm obviously busking to get extra money. No job would really hire a chick with a bum leg, unless it's a receptionist shit, stuff I can do sitting down. And that, I don't look the part. Guitar on a street corner. It's a bit nervy, what with the tall fuck having the possibility of showing up, but hell, I've done worse.

But yeah, it's been pretty quiet recently. Figures in the peripheral vision, weird dreams, being sick as fuck.... Yeah, I'm cursing a lot, sorry. It's a bad habit when I'm stressed. Which is pretty fucking much every day right now. Probably going to work on it a bit, just to make this thing more readable.

Honestly, there's a few other reasons why we're not moving more, including money. I mean, I could street it, and Harls would adapt, but I don't want her to have to deal with that. Especially with the way things have been going recently. In general, there's sometimes anywhere from a few days to a month or two between major events where life and luck decide to take a royal shit on us.

Honestly, there's not much else we can do at times beyond survive and try to get by. So that's what we do. The hotel's not that bad. We've got a tv, which is usually on when we're here, if muted. Just as a precaution... Not that it would help, but it's nice to have a little warning sometimes.

Our neighbors are already moving around. Holy fuck, it's three in the fucking morning, people! Go to fucking bed or something. Assholes.

Okay, seriously, I'm going to try and work on that, at least on here. Maybe. When I'm more rested, which is pretty much never.

I'm out.

-Darts

Neon Angels On The Road To Ruin

Happy New Year, bitches!

Okay, Harls wanted to start this shit, so here we go. Honestly, I don't see the point in writing this crap out where everyone can see it, but I guess it'll be good to at least have a record of some of the stuff that's been happening.

Yeah, so she says its because she thinks other people should know our "story". P'sh, probably just going to end up with a bunch of voyeurs and a bigger target on our backs. Anyway, what the hell, might as well get this shit on the road. I'm going to be keeping you lot up to date on current stuff mostly, and Harls, well... She wants people to know where we're coming from.

We're staying in this shitty-ass hole in the wall in Hollywood, of all places. Heh. At least it's not a squat, that's all I'm gonna say. Only trees for miles are palm trees. And there's not even many of those, in the area we're in. Just the way Harls likes it. Not going to drop any more deets than that. Too much chance of somebody looking for us.

Harls just got a job waitressing to supplement our funds, and I've found a good spot for busking, so I think we're okay there, at least. If we can just keep away from any stalky bastards. Always just out of sight, feels like. Fuckin' hell. Can't look at suits without taking a second glance these days.

Harls has been getting worse recently, on the sickness end of things. Some puking and bloody noses, mostly. I've been coughing up my lungs, though I honestly wanted to chalk that up to bronchitis at first. I get it every year, or at least I did. We're dealing though. Treat the symptoms.

Not much has gone down recently, beyond the usual sense of foreboding, though I did see that thing the other day when I was playing on a corner. Nobody else even seemed to notice as I closed my little set, put the guitar in the case and ever so calmly booked it. I so did not want a repeat of a few months ago. Scar still fuckin' burns like it's fresh when it's around.

So, anyway, the holidays weren't all that bad, which is more than I can say for some. There needs to be a calendar where you can request creeper-free days, guys. Seriously. Idiot-free days, too. I can't tell you how many offers to "keep me warm" I got today. Fuckin' a, I've got a girlfriend, shit-for-brains. Because it's so fuckin' cold in LA any time of year? Riiiiiiiiight?

And that's me for the mo', signing off. Don't have shit else to say right now.

-Darts