Residents Only

Looks like I'll be eating in for a few weeks. Got a $58 ticket for going over four hour limit in Weehawken, where I lived and paid taxes 30 years. Was in NYC, lost track of time. I can see this regulation during the week when commuters leave their cars on the street and jump on a NY bus. But Saturday makes no sense. More and more I get the feeling in this country that freedom to travel anywhere is a myth. It's all about exclusion now. You don't belong here. Go back where you live. Stranger danger.
To make up that $58 I'll have to sell a painting or a story. I wish I could do magic. Kids' parties are an area  I haven't explored. Maybe I could give a lecture on something. Sandra Bullock might be a topic I know something about.
So tonight I had a tuna sandwich and a handful of Wasabi almonds, which burned my palette in a good way. To balance the ticket depression, I got a story accepted to a local mag that doesn't pay. But I did receive a check from the library that held a fair and bought ten of my books. And I did find a ballpoint pen on a bench.
I was going to get new business cards, but that is on hold. $58 bucks. Damn.