Wednesday, December 2, 2015

The Street perfomer wants her car....

Dear Supporters of this bipolar American,
I'm currently trekking thru Cypress in search of the funds to recover my impounded car, which you will find a pix of on the right side of this blog:
AKA, the 5150 mobeel.
My long road from ragged jagged points to lows of a nadir I be, the car, a white camry with my book, The chronicles of the Bipolar Reporter etched in the paint is being held hostage for a grand or two by now, as it was not acceptable to the rich and preposterous of Long Beach on NOv. 3 where it broke down.
I consumed a large cup of coffee and began my riff raff, as I am just that, dancing, feigning intoxication, and dancing for a crowd of cheery, shocked on lookers.
It seems my latent,  not latex, rubber stampers, talents are appearing one by one, to my own amazement. I juggle, dance, speak in code and rap like a black man.
Yes, it's what I have and will use on the public right of way to possibly, not panhandle, oh no, that would be illegal, but slyly without harassment, ask for help to obtain my car/book mobeel and return to Weldon, where my home sits in ruins.
Awaiting my administering this beleaguered home contained one mad elder abuse tracker, reporter who traced the culprits of murder, greed and mayhem until the courts finally agreed and gave:::::Probation.
Yes, they got white collar hot am I under, thunderstruck, I myself served 8 months for a tiny bag of methamphetamine which I truthfully directed the police to find.
Thank you California for Proposition 47, which unfortunately was a bit late, but sound of mind, you changed the charges from felony to miss duh meaner.
Now, down to sacks of clothes, a haircut, a hernia from carrying my leftover thanksgiving belongings, missing my bi polar meds, I'm heading for street performance.
Let me explain:
They towed  my car to impound where it is over a thousand dollars for this aged, disabled, garbled fool to retrieve.
But, aye captain, heres the rub: now they sell it for pennies on the dollar and put the balance of some extraordinairy mathematical terror on my CREDIT REPORT>
IOU, good people I did not pay, my family whom I did not properly care for, BUT NO to the impound your dog, cause I want my car.
NOBODY but I the dues you owe my righteous in your face nation, should drive this automobile.
I lived in it with my fallen hero, BOXER, RIP, Dukeskywalter, the golden paw of reckoning, who died while I was incarcerated in Lerdo for my honest tell tale heart.
My bird, SKy, blue and gold macaw, spent time in the rolling roost, and her hero name, Skyette Earp, has been taken from my care and car home, leaving behind plumage, droppiings, and seeds.
This is my hope and dream: To return to my vanquished home in my automobile, dignified, vindicated and ready to start over.
Sidewalks are Public right of way, I"lll serve up ;the best Charlie Chaplin, no harass meant (wink wink cadilacky villa) hoping for help in a dinero, espressed in beans coffee, or you know what I'm saying.
LOve to all. Wish me Luck. I*"ll keep you updated on FAce book, take a look. this lemon is needing aid.  FAllendarity and GROUP HUGS MUTHERFUCKERS>>>
(with the best of intentions I do curse this madness)
LOve to all, hardworking, schooling, sweethearts......LAurA HART YOUR Servant BPA

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