the dark side I
Okay, now this is the series that's gonna make people cringe I think. Hell, it makes me cringe just thinking about writing it. Most of this stuff all comes from one part of my life, and I think that during this time I survived solely on the grace of the angels if you know what I mean. And I am serious, this is sorta hardcore shit, so if you don't think you can handle it, wait until the "dark side" series is over. Don't worry, I'll bring it all back around to love again. I promise.
I had lived in Seattle before, and then traveled around the US, finally ending up back in my hometown of Rockford, IL, staying with my mom. This is back in 1995 or so, if I remember correctly.
Anyway, I moved back to Seattle finally that fall, and moved in with some friends I had known before in Seattle. They were living in a big loft space in Pioneer Square, the south part of downtown Seattle, mere blocks from crack central. It was a huge cube of space with no heat, and a bathroom out in the hall. It was never meant for human habitation, and therefore often felt like being sort of strangely homeless myself. Plus, the other people who lived in the bulding were pretty trippy as well.
Going back to Seattle was like hitting a wall of drugs and bad vibes. Next door lived a couple who were longtime heroin users, and down the hall was a rough and tumble stripper and hustler par excellance who gave me some serious education via the school o' hard knocks. Also, it turned out that 2 of my friends (a couple) had been kinda harboring resentment towards me about things that happened when I lived in Seattle before. The other person who lived in the space was a huge pothead, and since we were nearly constant companions, I became one too.
Four people, two of them a couple, one with a day job, made for some really difficult living, and huge resentment and bad feeling quickly began to accumulate. Toss in some hallucinogens, some really bad passive aggressive behavior, and a really wierd sketchy environment, and sometimes living there had begun to resemble a living hell.
I came back to Seattle to go to massage school, and I actually did get the loan together and was going in the spring, but things degenerated quickly. First they asked that I find somewhere else to live, and then they told me that it had better be my last month there. I was working a crappy telemarketing job, and I hadn't been able to save up any money, and I just couldn't see any possible way that I was going to get together the money to get out of that fucking hellhole and put together First, Last and Deposit in a city noted for it's high rents.
So one day I was over at the hustler girl's house...let's call her Miss Banana, and I was saying, "God Miss Banana, I have got to figure out a way to make some money. I am fucking desperate. I don't care if it's legal or not at this point. I'd sell drugs, but all I know how to sell is pot, and all my friends already buy from Big Mama. I don't want to undercut her or anything. But I'd do anything, Miss Banana. I'm serious. I'd...I'd suck a dick for rent money."
Miss Banana looked me up and down. "Hmmn," she said, thoughfully.
(you know it's gonna be continued)