Quick, three dots review of some of the help I've gotten in New York City since landing here to escape my enemies' alarming bizarreness:
90 Lafayette's New York City Rescue Mission: Holy Hudson on the Half Moon! There was stuff going on at this bedehouse for the reprobate that would appall Miles Standish and a good many other 16th Century Indian killers. Zero out of five abbesses approve...
Schwartz Men's Assessment Shelter on Randall Island. Liveable, but the clients are not the only ones engaging in shady shenanigans. One night, there was a shortage of ratty blankets, but I laughed it off as, 'Okey-dokey, I guess IllI just cry all the way back to where I've got no land...' I did get to be a hero there, and save an overdosed man's life (but that I had to...) Vicious Calypso dragon lady Ms. B was particularly Trunchbullesque among staff. That said, points to the facility personnel and the friendly intake lobby NYPD sargeants for tipping me off to the arrival of notorious stalker Jesus Diaz...
Bellevue Psychiatric Emergency: good food, adequate head shrinks. Saw the good Corporal, my future husband (Syd's momser) there, and was so happy...
Praxis Housing Initiatives on 109th: Wonderful, until I got booted upon being accused of failing to cut up a chubby baby dyke, as though I'm that kind of evil straight chick from a Russ Meyer titty pic. Ms. C's 'caged heat' crap isn't washing as of this post, and I'm currently in talks with attorneys concerning the program's shitty treatment of me...
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