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***OFFICIAL WIKKIDPISSAH STORY THREAD*** (1 Viewer)
- Thread starter goldenchild
- Start date
JAA
Footballguy
im new to the New England lingo: JP? Hilltop?
wikkidpissah
Footballguy
JP is Jamaica Plain, next to Roxbury in Metro Boston, where i'm from.
Hilltop is the local steak house chain upon which the Hungry Heifer in "Cheers" is based.
Hilltop is the local steak house chain upon which the Hungry Heifer in "Cheers" is based.
I
ianfitzy
Guest
Hilltop has some great meats... They shut down the restaurant/supermarket in Braintree but they opened a small little store in Weymouth which just sells meat now.
Bill Brasky
Footballguy
wikkidpissah
Footballguy
a disclaimer b4 i start today's story. although i'm saving most of my stories from the yrs from 84-96 for a larger work of mine, i will occasionally test a story here, more for whether i can write it than anything else. it's how i came to post on FFA in the first place - i needed a tailing pond for the runoff fom my serious writing. i'm enjoying that some of u enjoy my storytelling, though, and want to clear something up b4 telling anymore stories.
i was married to the most glorious person i ever met - a 6 ft blonde with a 150 IQ, the charm of 1000 harems & an appetite for undiluted savagery. most of the time, u will hear me speak of her in the most glowing terms and with the greatest tenderness & affection. u might also hear me tell about getting hummers in Joe Conforte's limo at time's concurrent with my relationship with my beloved Mary. lemme 'splain -
we were together for 12 yrs. in that time, we broke up at least 47 times. she was so abrasive & addled by drugs that, at one point, she had worn out her loved ones so badly that she hadda leave Reno for Sacramento to take the heat off. while she was down there, a tumor was found in her breast. even though i told her i never wanted to see her again, she sought me out as the one person who might help thru her time of need.
i did. she took radical chemo, beat the thing, we fell back in love during the process, i ceelebrated her remission by proposing, she accepted, we broke up our wedding wkend (a situation which left me stranded at dawn in downtown San Francisco the morning after the Rodney King verdict without knowing about what was goin on - whole nuther story), together on & off for a yr, during one breakup she was diagnosed with bone cancer (nine spots on her ribcage). she declined treatment & embraced her dr's estimate of 6 wks to live. she lasted 2 1/2 yrs of the most horrific imaginable pain & suffering. because she'd been labeled a drug seeker, at a time when hospitals were gettting sued a lot for over-medicating, they gave her pain meds which only lasted her 10 days of each mth. we spent 100K+ (and i spent a hell of a lot of time & well-being scrounging for her) on illegal supplementation and she suffered in a way i wish on no being. when i became little more than her caretaker, she released me to get summinsummin where i could, which is how some of these stories are possible. so, between our breakups & that, i was able to find myself in situations like the one in the upcoming HOLIDAY GIRL:
i was married to the most glorious person i ever met - a 6 ft blonde with a 150 IQ, the charm of 1000 harems & an appetite for undiluted savagery. most of the time, u will hear me speak of her in the most glowing terms and with the greatest tenderness & affection. u might also hear me tell about getting hummers in Joe Conforte's limo at time's concurrent with my relationship with my beloved Mary. lemme 'splain -
we were together for 12 yrs. in that time, we broke up at least 47 times. she was so abrasive & addled by drugs that, at one point, she had worn out her loved ones so badly that she hadda leave Reno for Sacramento to take the heat off. while she was down there, a tumor was found in her breast. even though i told her i never wanted to see her again, she sought me out as the one person who might help thru her time of need.
i did. she took radical chemo, beat the thing, we fell back in love during the process, i ceelebrated her remission by proposing, she accepted, we broke up our wedding wkend (a situation which left me stranded at dawn in downtown San Francisco the morning after the Rodney King verdict without knowing about what was goin on - whole nuther story), together on & off for a yr, during one breakup she was diagnosed with bone cancer (nine spots on her ribcage). she declined treatment & embraced her dr's estimate of 6 wks to live. she lasted 2 1/2 yrs of the most horrific imaginable pain & suffering. because she'd been labeled a drug seeker, at a time when hospitals were gettting sued a lot for over-medicating, they gave her pain meds which only lasted her 10 days of each mth. we spent 100K+ (and i spent a hell of a lot of time & well-being scrounging for her) on illegal supplementation and she suffered in a way i wish on no being. when i became little more than her caretaker, she released me to get summinsummin where i could, which is how some of these stories are possible. so, between our breakups & that, i was able to find myself in situations like the one in the upcoming HOLIDAY GIRL:
JAA
Footballguy
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wikkidpissah
Footballguy
it has been said that cocaine goes with poker even better than with sex. when, as a professional gambler, i started to keep a log of money in & out, there'd be an amount entered in either in the W or L column and another sum listed with an H, which indicated how much i spent on Help gittin thru the business day.
in the 80s, the gittin was good. usually, i'd give an always-broke friend of mine enough dough to buy a large amount of help, he would break it down & sell quarters around the casino til he got the money back & we'd split the leftover product. if danny wasnt around, there was always wallyworld. wally was guy who dealt in serious weigh, but was kind of a nerd who loved hangin with gamblers and, therefore, always gave us the cheapest rates on the best stuff.
when the 90s came along, summin lousy happened. nevada passed a law classifying 3 grams or more of headache powder as sale weight. this meant that the storied 8-ball (1/8 of an ounce, 3 1/2 grams), the standard amount we kool kidz generally carried around made us dealers, in the eyes of the law. this gave local law enforcement incentive to go after users cuz it was now a felony bust most times, and those so-busted started ratting out every they knew for reduced charges & the whole thing turned into a ####hole but quick. me & my best pal got a call at a place we'd gone to procure telling us to scram cuz the guy we were dealing with had been turned and barely made it out b4 the hammer came down. wallyworld flushed what of his supply he couldnt snort, climbed up on his roof & started shooting at the imaginary DEA helicopters he thought sure were reigning down on him.
pretty ugly scene. shonuff, because of the increased risk, the prices went up & up on stuff that kept gettin worse & worse. i was gonna quit, but then how would i play cards two days straight?
about that time, i had moved to a different neighborhood & started hangin a corner bar near my new digs. bars are 24-hr establishment in reno, so u'd find a lot of 24-hr people in em. some of these twitchy mofos started mentioning that there was summin new on the scene for our sort - crank (bathtub meth). now, i had lost a friend in my teen yrs to a crystal meth overdose and, as some of y'all may remember, cokeheads didnt really consider themselves serious drug users, so i objected to the idea at 1st. when i started to get less & less bang for my buck from my drug of choice, though, i let one of em bump me up.
wow, did that stuff burn & it sure didn't peak as high as flake, but it got u there somewhat &, more importantly, keptuthereandkeptuthereandkeptuthereandkeptuthereandkeptuthere. and, eventually, it was just another thang up ur nose & sure was economical & didnt do much harm. or so i thought. i saw a different side of my new scene when i met the HOLIDAY GIRL....
in the 80s, the gittin was good. usually, i'd give an always-broke friend of mine enough dough to buy a large amount of help, he would break it down & sell quarters around the casino til he got the money back & we'd split the leftover product. if danny wasnt around, there was always wallyworld. wally was guy who dealt in serious weigh, but was kind of a nerd who loved hangin with gamblers and, therefore, always gave us the cheapest rates on the best stuff.
when the 90s came along, summin lousy happened. nevada passed a law classifying 3 grams or more of headache powder as sale weight. this meant that the storied 8-ball (1/8 of an ounce, 3 1/2 grams), the standard amount we kool kidz generally carried around made us dealers, in the eyes of the law. this gave local law enforcement incentive to go after users cuz it was now a felony bust most times, and those so-busted started ratting out every they knew for reduced charges & the whole thing turned into a ####hole but quick. me & my best pal got a call at a place we'd gone to procure telling us to scram cuz the guy we were dealing with had been turned and barely made it out b4 the hammer came down. wallyworld flushed what of his supply he couldnt snort, climbed up on his roof & started shooting at the imaginary DEA helicopters he thought sure were reigning down on him.
pretty ugly scene. shonuff, because of the increased risk, the prices went up & up on stuff that kept gettin worse & worse. i was gonna quit, but then how would i play cards two days straight?
about that time, i had moved to a different neighborhood & started hangin a corner bar near my new digs. bars are 24-hr establishment in reno, so u'd find a lot of 24-hr people in em. some of these twitchy mofos started mentioning that there was summin new on the scene for our sort - crank (bathtub meth). now, i had lost a friend in my teen yrs to a crystal meth overdose and, as some of y'all may remember, cokeheads didnt really consider themselves serious drug users, so i objected to the idea at 1st. when i started to get less & less bang for my buck from my drug of choice, though, i let one of em bump me up.
wow, did that stuff burn & it sure didn't peak as high as flake, but it got u there somewhat &, more importantly, keptuthereandkeptuthereandkeptuthereandkeptuthereandkeptuthere. and, eventually, it was just another thang up ur nose & sure was economical & didnt do much harm. or so i thought. i saw a different side of my new scene when i met the HOLIDAY GIRL....
wikkidpissah
Footballguy
i miss cokewhores. i especially miss the ones who reeeeally enjoyed what they did. many didnt have sex for coke as much as wanted coke for sex. everybody loves that first time with someone where it leaves becoming an expression between two people and becomes a contest of who can kill the other. i described it once in a piece i wrote:
well, the kind of cokewhores im talking about liked to have that kind of sex EVERY FREAKIN TIME!! fancy that! well, i did, but none so much as a girl who walked into our corner bar in the wee hours of Martin Luther King Day.sundays were dead nights in bars, even in reno. the sunday nights of those weird semi-holiday wkends were weird cuz the tourists would come up from cali & there was lotsa good action but, by sunday night, everyone was kinda wore out.there were no chix (and it was a good bar womanwise) and maybe 4 or 5 guys in my bar when this gal walks in, surveys the colloquy of humps before her while giving us a chance to check her out in the light of the doorway and says, "if any y'all can get me high, u can lock the doors".just our luck, three of us had bindles (small, geometrically folded packets for holding drugs) in our pockets, but none of them held more than the desperate scrapings leftover from a long wkend's usage. this li'l gal was an easy 7+ (even by rigid ffa standards) and it was gonna take a lot more than we had for her to abide by her opening offer. we invited her to have a seat, bought her a drink, scraped our leavins out on a poker machine for her enjoyment and started workin the phones. damn the luck, those who would answer their pages were as high & dry as we were. so, there would be no turnout that night, but she did hang out for a while & was a total sweetheart. she looked ten yrs younger than the mid 30s she confessed to being, had been a waaaay party girl thru most of her 20s, but had married & started a family. but she missed partying summin awful, especially lately. she didnt explain how, but made it clear that it being the sunday of a holiday wkend was what gave her the chance to try & scratch that itch. come daylight, she thanked us for lovely evening & headed out.
JAA
Footballguy
whaaaa?!?!
wikkidpissah
Footballguy
wikkidpissah
Footballguy
oh, yeah, sorry - i didnt put the teaser at the end. there's more, of course.
i will say, tho, this aint comin out the way i thought. ive only ever told this story 4-5, times whereas the others, tho this is the 1st time ive written them down, are stories i been tellin to anyone who'll listen for 30+ yrs. i'll try to save it in the conclusion, but im guessin its too weird. to quote kathy griffin in seinfeld "...it's a process".
k, i hadda take a call then had some lunch. just startin the conclusion now. check back in an hr.
i will say, tho, this aint comin out the way i thought. ive only ever told this story 4-5, times whereas the others, tho this is the 1st time ive written them down, are stories i been tellin to anyone who'll listen for 30+ yrs. i'll try to save it in the conclusion, but im guessin its too weird. to quote kathy griffin in seinfeld "...it's a process".
k, i hadda take a call then had some lunch. just startin the conclusion now. check back in an hr.
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wikkidpissah
Footballguy
HOLIDAY GIRL, not conclusion after all.
President's Day. when i walked in the bar, Mark, the barkeep, startin laughin. dunno whether its cuz i was better groomed than i usually am by the end of a holiday wkend or he had guessed by the look in my eye, but he kept gigglin and said, "bet u dont wanna be patted down right now" as soon as i got close enough. as i sheepishly nodded, Mark pointed to three of the other four guys from MLK Day eyeing the door expectantly as they guessed/hoped that the girl would show again tonite. "i'm holdin pretty good, too" he confessed.
shonuff, just as the crowd did its early thinning out, in walks Holiday Girl. Mark pours what she drank the last time & sets it next to me (i was by far the best tipper of the free agents). shoshonuff, she still wants that itch in her switch scratched and a quick survey of the bar informs her she has choice of lufas tonite. ol' wikkid got as lucky as lucky gets that night. ive had my share of sex-in-a-hurry, but i was not prepared for TEN HOURS of sex-in-a-hurry. i always thought my Mary was the hungriest bird in the tree, but she was a fledgling next to this'n. between that and the immense drifts of snow we were shovelin to get there, i came the closest to thinkin i was gonna die as i ever had. that werent so bad, cuz i was also as close to heaven as i ever thought i'd get.
here's where it gets weird - i was back with Mary by the time Memorial Day rolled around (and we saw not hide nor hair of her betwixt). Mark, sharp as he was, knew this & made sure to have somebody coverin for him that night & indeed got to enjoy the presents of Holiday Girl that night. for a wk, you couldnta knocked the smile off his face with an RPG. she didnt show for the 4th or Labor Day and i happened to be a free agent again on Columbus Day. thing is, that was the bad summer for sodapoppers and i'd pretty much converted to crank in the interim. i bought some weakass stuff, but also bought some crystal & some crank in case she truly needed the fathest exigencies of wastedness to GET there.
Holiday Girl left with me again that night. when i showed her what i thought to be the lesser powders, though, her eyes got almost as big as her pupils. apparently, her favorite drug as a partygirl had been crack and she had heard that meth was an even beter smoke than rock. now, most kool kidz looked down on crack as totally ghetto & i didnt even know meth could be smoked. well, to me, it did not work at all (all the sweat, none of the buzz), but she loveditloveditlovedit!!! In the month before Veteran's Day i kept constant vigil in the search for good blow and set aside every morsel i could find so i wouldnt have to do that again.
why meth is bad, in our upcoming conclusion.
President's Day. when i walked in the bar, Mark, the barkeep, startin laughin. dunno whether its cuz i was better groomed than i usually am by the end of a holiday wkend or he had guessed by the look in my eye, but he kept gigglin and said, "bet u dont wanna be patted down right now" as soon as i got close enough. as i sheepishly nodded, Mark pointed to three of the other four guys from MLK Day eyeing the door expectantly as they guessed/hoped that the girl would show again tonite. "i'm holdin pretty good, too" he confessed.
shonuff, just as the crowd did its early thinning out, in walks Holiday Girl. Mark pours what she drank the last time & sets it next to me (i was by far the best tipper of the free agents). shoshonuff, she still wants that itch in her switch scratched and a quick survey of the bar informs her she has choice of lufas tonite. ol' wikkid got as lucky as lucky gets that night. ive had my share of sex-in-a-hurry, but i was not prepared for TEN HOURS of sex-in-a-hurry. i always thought my Mary was the hungriest bird in the tree, but she was a fledgling next to this'n. between that and the immense drifts of snow we were shovelin to get there, i came the closest to thinkin i was gonna die as i ever had. that werent so bad, cuz i was also as close to heaven as i ever thought i'd get.
here's where it gets weird - i was back with Mary by the time Memorial Day rolled around (and we saw not hide nor hair of her betwixt). Mark, sharp as he was, knew this & made sure to have somebody coverin for him that night & indeed got to enjoy the presents of Holiday Girl that night. for a wk, you couldnta knocked the smile off his face with an RPG. she didnt show for the 4th or Labor Day and i happened to be a free agent again on Columbus Day. thing is, that was the bad summer for sodapoppers and i'd pretty much converted to crank in the interim. i bought some weakass stuff, but also bought some crystal & some crank in case she truly needed the fathest exigencies of wastedness to GET there.
Holiday Girl left with me again that night. when i showed her what i thought to be the lesser powders, though, her eyes got almost as big as her pupils. apparently, her favorite drug as a partygirl had been crack and she had heard that meth was an even beter smoke than rock. now, most kool kidz looked down on crack as totally ghetto & i didnt even know meth could be smoked. well, to me, it did not work at all (all the sweat, none of the buzz), but she loveditloveditlovedit!!! In the month before Veteran's Day i kept constant vigil in the search for good blow and set aside every morsel i could find so i wouldnt have to do that again.
why meth is bad, in our upcoming conclusion.
wikkidpissah
Footballguy
also, mods - if im going too far, lemme know. i'll delete HOLIDAY GIRL myself if u think its too much, please dont kill the thread.
Sammy Traveller
Footballguy
don't be surprised if some law enforcement folks are reading your thread. they're probably comparing notes right now.
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wikkidpissah
Footballguy
HOLIDAY GIRL, conclusion.
shonuff, she showed on the next holiday wkend. matter of fact, she came in on Saturday night of Veteran's Day wkend this time. confessing that she was takin a chance with her husband doing this, she asked me if i was holding & damn near dragged me out of there when i nodded. u could tell on the short drive home that she'd been twitchin the entire month since smokin crank for another chance to do it again. even with the high quality of flake i had worked to procure, all she wanted to do is get summin harsh in her lungs. she even tried smokin this (coke has to be processed to be smokable) and kept askin if i could get some & started doin me in that "can u, baby, can u?" way that is just about as cheap as people get. i made some calls, but nobody was answerin. after pacing for an hour, she looked out to confirm that the sun was comin up and said "i know a guy"....
and that's when it got weird. she made a call and it was like she was talking to a 2yo. "well, we gotta take him to a place to get it, but we got it" and we hop in the car. Holiday Girl, after warning me that her friend is a little sensitive & doesnt get out much, directs me to a busbench on a major thoroughfare. sitting on it, was the remains of a human being, wearing an Army uniform. he looked like he was maybe seven inches across, had eyes like in those kid pictures & honestly appeared to be the effigeal skeleton of a soldier. he was a Namvet, who apparently did nothing but collect his check & smoke stimulants. well, he did one other thing, too.
we're drivin along & i hear a sound recognizable as one boys make by pulling rapidly on their cheek. i look in the rear view & the guy's got his bidness out, big as him, and he's flailin on it like a manic monkey. "it's what he does" she alibis when i go ballistic and tries to talk him into putting it away like a soccer mom who's son is gameboyin too much
thankfully we get to the place with only one more episode of him makin a grab at his sac like Conan's bear. im not allowed to go in & im kinda glad i couldnt but they take so long i wanna make sure everything allright but wonder, in my addled state, if maybe everybody in there is makin like Sgt Skeletor & swordfightin & spinnin beachballs on em and passin em around and stuff.
they get it & he gets in the back seat and we go to split it up (the word for that in drug parlance is "whack", but that would be too punny here). he whips it out once more in transit until i tell him ill cut it off if he dont stop. we get to my place and these two are like rats after a rotting pigknuckle with this stuff. they get they smoke on & i say "let's get him back in his barn". he says he needs to go to the bathroom first which, for some reason, i dont think anything of til i realise he's been in there too long & i look at her & she shrugs & says "welllll, he likes new spaces". i try to break down the door cuz he aint answering, but he comes out. and i take him to his bench & her to her car. Holiday Girl never came by our bar again. i often wonder if she gave it up, went to a new bar or ended up in a crack motel on 4th St. and that's why drugs are bad, children....
shonuff, she showed on the next holiday wkend. matter of fact, she came in on Saturday night of Veteran's Day wkend this time. confessing that she was takin a chance with her husband doing this, she asked me if i was holding & damn near dragged me out of there when i nodded. u could tell on the short drive home that she'd been twitchin the entire month since smokin crank for another chance to do it again. even with the high quality of flake i had worked to procure, all she wanted to do is get summin harsh in her lungs. she even tried smokin this (coke has to be processed to be smokable) and kept askin if i could get some & started doin me in that "can u, baby, can u?" way that is just about as cheap as people get. i made some calls, but nobody was answerin. after pacing for an hour, she looked out to confirm that the sun was comin up and said "i know a guy"....
and that's when it got weird. she made a call and it was like she was talking to a 2yo. "well, we gotta take him to a place to get it, but we got it" and we hop in the car. Holiday Girl, after warning me that her friend is a little sensitive & doesnt get out much, directs me to a busbench on a major thoroughfare. sitting on it, was the remains of a human being, wearing an Army uniform. he looked like he was maybe seven inches across, had eyes like in those kid pictures & honestly appeared to be the effigeal skeleton of a soldier. he was a Namvet, who apparently did nothing but collect his check & smoke stimulants. well, he did one other thing, too.
we're drivin along & i hear a sound recognizable as one boys make by pulling rapidly on their cheek. i look in the rear view & the guy's got his bidness out, big as him, and he's flailin on it like a manic monkey. "it's what he does" she alibis when i go ballistic and tries to talk him into putting it away like a soccer mom who's son is gameboyin too much
thankfully we get to the place with only one more episode of him makin a grab at his sac like Conan's bear. im not allowed to go in & im kinda glad i couldnt but they take so long i wanna make sure everything allright but wonder, in my addled state, if maybe everybody in there is makin like Sgt Skeletor & swordfightin & spinnin beachballs on em and passin em around and stuff.
they get it & he gets in the back seat and we go to split it up (the word for that in drug parlance is "whack", but that would be too punny here). he whips it out once more in transit until i tell him ill cut it off if he dont stop. we get to my place and these two are like rats after a rotting pigknuckle with this stuff. they get they smoke on & i say "let's get him back in his barn". he says he needs to go to the bathroom first which, for some reason, i dont think anything of til i realise he's been in there too long & i look at her & she shrugs & says "welllll, he likes new spaces". i try to break down the door cuz he aint answering, but he comes out. and i take him to his bench & her to her car. Holiday Girl never came by our bar again. i often wonder if she gave it up, went to a new bar or ended up in a crack motel on 4th St. and that's why drugs are bad, children....
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JAA
Footballguy
im sure you realize this, but for your book the stories will need more detail. I feel your descriptions in the stories, but I also feel as if your descriptions dont have any story detail coroboration ... if that makes sense
wikkidpissah
Footballguy
as they say around here, why dont u unpack that for me a li'l bit.
JAA
Footballguy
first, this is only a recommendation regarding writing of your book, not the stories heremy point is that while reading the stories, our imaginations will create most of the scenery regarding the bars, the way women look, the crazy sex scenes, etc. However, it would go a long to add to add more detail to these situations, like spending a bit of time describing the bar, the people in it, etc. Those details can go along way for a reader.cheers
wikkidpissah
Footballguy
gotcha
wikkidpissah
Footballguy
fixed
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goldenchild
Footballguy
ahem
wikkidpissah
Footballguy
sorry, dood. JAA's been promptin & messagin me the last few days & i assumed it was him. my long term memory is great, but my shor.....where was i? oh, yes - you are my goldenchild. was it worth the trouble of starting? i know u wanted more goomba stories but, evading them for so long cut down on the material i was able to gather. i do remember this - their dad was in *pushes nose to the side* high rise construction & fell off the 11th floor of a jobsite once. his broken back took him off his feet for only 3 wks - just pissed him off.
goldenchild
Footballguy
I'm definitely enjoying what you've told thus far. Sounds like you've lived an exciting life. Any time table for when this book is going to be out?
wikkidpissah
Footballguy
i'm hopin to be done with it in the 1st quarter of 09. when it will be out is anyone's guess. i havent had an agent in over a decade & dont have a clue how to get it looked at.my last story for a while out sometime tomorrow
wikkidpissah
Footballguy
INSUFFICIENT WRITHING
i been lucky. of course, much of what is described as luck is being ready when opportunity knocks but, there was a five yr period in the 70s where i kept fallin assbackward into some of the most glorious situations imaginable. i've already described turning a gf's request to help her produce radio commericials for a fledgling station into a syndicated comedy show & an audition at SNL. i've alluded to some plays i had produced - well, that all started cuz a HS friend who was youth minister at a church asked me to write some skits for his kidz to perform at a ham & bean supper. i wrote a revue based on "what if the Marx bros were in 'Casablanca'?", one of the parents asked me to expand in for his local rep company amd it worked & that led to a commission for a Neil Simon-type play that almost made it to NYC.
none of my luck, however, matched that which ended up launching me into the company of the wonder that was Lowell George. when those italian bros were tryin to kill me for knockin up their sister, boston was a dicey place to be, even tho i was just a kid & missed my family & friends. the best place to hide was in the city itself. i had a buddy who was goin to Berklee School of Music & he let me sleep on his floor in this building that was nothin but Berklee students. i was always a decent singer & jamming was the one portion of musicmakin that my stagefright would allow me to enjoy, so i made a lot of friends in this building.
i was able to negotiate for my life back from the goombas in time to reenter HS two wks into the 2nd semester of what would have been my senior yr. i had been a good student for the two yrs of school i had completed, so the school let me get a diploma by finishing that semester & doin independent study in the summer school session.
i get out of school & summer school led me to a teacher's aide job in the special ed class of my school in the fall. hangin with my buds again & dating this girl Kim (not an outright beauty, but built, brilliant & verrrry political, like i was) - life is good. the next spring, im with Kim at a meeting of one of her causes - Zero Population Growth. bored to tears, but i aint gittin no sumnsumn less'n i pay attention, so i am. the subject was fundraising & establishing a greater presence in the inner city. ideas are bandied about until someone proposes a benefit concert. Kim says, "well, wikkid knows a lot of musicians - maybe he can help put summin together". and i was volunteered.
i was able to find a venue right away. a ballpark in my hometown (right next to Roxbury, Boston's "hood"), White Stadium, was run by a friend's dad. he even helped with permits n such. now the musicians - well it happened that one of the guys i knew from that Berklee loft was now the lead guitarist for the hottest band in Boston - The James Montgomery Blues Band. btw - this guy (Peter Malick) is known to today's music fans as producer of Norah Jones' breakout CD.
The JMBB were a local phenomenon for a coupla yrs - they would open for big touring acts & blow them off the stage (now the business is better controlled to prevent that from happening - matter of fact, i came to see some bands' careers hurt cuz nobody wanted them opening for em). I was backstage when JMBB did that to the Eagles (grrreat story - remind me when i get back) and now, thx to my friendship with Peter, i had them for my benefit. That led to much easier booking - a couple other local bands volunteered & a band called Pure Food & Drug Act (featuring the great blues fiddle player Sugar Cane Harris & Bluesbreaker Harvey Mandel) was looking for a Boston exposure gig & that's one thing being top bill over JMBB offered. a friend who built PA systems for outdoor venues offered some help & equipment and we had us a show.
boy, did we have us a show! we expected anywhere from 1500 to 3000 people (which ZPG was thrrrrilled with), so much so that me, Kim, the sound guy & a manmountain of a friend, Wayne Silva (good stories on him) were pretty much the entire staff of the production. thx to the phenomenon that was The James Montgomery Blues Band, over 11,000 showed up (we ran out of tickets & ended up just takin donations at the gate) and it turned out to be one of the successes of the Boston summer concert season.
where that led my life in pt. 2....
i been lucky. of course, much of what is described as luck is being ready when opportunity knocks but, there was a five yr period in the 70s where i kept fallin assbackward into some of the most glorious situations imaginable. i've already described turning a gf's request to help her produce radio commericials for a fledgling station into a syndicated comedy show & an audition at SNL. i've alluded to some plays i had produced - well, that all started cuz a HS friend who was youth minister at a church asked me to write some skits for his kidz to perform at a ham & bean supper. i wrote a revue based on "what if the Marx bros were in 'Casablanca'?", one of the parents asked me to expand in for his local rep company amd it worked & that led to a commission for a Neil Simon-type play that almost made it to NYC.
none of my luck, however, matched that which ended up launching me into the company of the wonder that was Lowell George. when those italian bros were tryin to kill me for knockin up their sister, boston was a dicey place to be, even tho i was just a kid & missed my family & friends. the best place to hide was in the city itself. i had a buddy who was goin to Berklee School of Music & he let me sleep on his floor in this building that was nothin but Berklee students. i was always a decent singer & jamming was the one portion of musicmakin that my stagefright would allow me to enjoy, so i made a lot of friends in this building.
i was able to negotiate for my life back from the goombas in time to reenter HS two wks into the 2nd semester of what would have been my senior yr. i had been a good student for the two yrs of school i had completed, so the school let me get a diploma by finishing that semester & doin independent study in the summer school session.
i get out of school & summer school led me to a teacher's aide job in the special ed class of my school in the fall. hangin with my buds again & dating this girl Kim (not an outright beauty, but built, brilliant & verrrry political, like i was) - life is good. the next spring, im with Kim at a meeting of one of her causes - Zero Population Growth. bored to tears, but i aint gittin no sumnsumn less'n i pay attention, so i am. the subject was fundraising & establishing a greater presence in the inner city. ideas are bandied about until someone proposes a benefit concert. Kim says, "well, wikkid knows a lot of musicians - maybe he can help put summin together". and i was volunteered.
i was able to find a venue right away. a ballpark in my hometown (right next to Roxbury, Boston's "hood"), White Stadium, was run by a friend's dad. he even helped with permits n such. now the musicians - well it happened that one of the guys i knew from that Berklee loft was now the lead guitarist for the hottest band in Boston - The James Montgomery Blues Band. btw - this guy (Peter Malick) is known to today's music fans as producer of Norah Jones' breakout CD.
The JMBB were a local phenomenon for a coupla yrs - they would open for big touring acts & blow them off the stage (now the business is better controlled to prevent that from happening - matter of fact, i came to see some bands' careers hurt cuz nobody wanted them opening for em). I was backstage when JMBB did that to the Eagles (grrreat story - remind me when i get back) and now, thx to my friendship with Peter, i had them for my benefit. That led to much easier booking - a couple other local bands volunteered & a band called Pure Food & Drug Act (featuring the great blues fiddle player Sugar Cane Harris & Bluesbreaker Harvey Mandel) was looking for a Boston exposure gig & that's one thing being top bill over JMBB offered. a friend who built PA systems for outdoor venues offered some help & equipment and we had us a show.
boy, did we have us a show! we expected anywhere from 1500 to 3000 people (which ZPG was thrrrrilled with), so much so that me, Kim, the sound guy & a manmountain of a friend, Wayne Silva (good stories on him) were pretty much the entire staff of the production. thx to the phenomenon that was The James Montgomery Blues Band, over 11,000 showed up (we ran out of tickets & ended up just takin donations at the gate) and it turned out to be one of the successes of the Boston summer concert season.
where that led my life in pt. 2....
Last edited by a moderator:
wikkidpissah
Footballguy
part of Sugar Cane Harris' entourage was a manager/promoter whose name i cannot mention (our business relationship ended with him suing me & confidentiality was a part of that agreement & i dont know if that holds up 30+ yrs later, but he's still around - i can tell u he was one of the talking heads on the PBS series on the blues) - & i aint takin no chances). much of his business came from booking ol blues men on the college circuit (which was huge dough cuz all his acts were solo & he pocketed all that $$$ he saved on expenses - musical sharecroppin, really). well, one of his acts was a singer i adored, Bonnie Raitt (mostly cuz, when he signed her, it was just her & her bass player).
this guy was apparently impressed by the ZPG benefit & i got a call from him a few wks later. he was looking to expand into outdoor-venue production & would i be interested in bein point on this? i wasnt 19yo yet & about to go back to a job drivin the short bus @ my HS so, HELLLLLLLL YEEEEAHHHH!! when i found out he was bonnie's mgr, i proposed that, if he taught me the biz, i (and the sound guy, who i think he was more interested in) would develop his outdoor capacity. after bein sent out with one act (cant mention, involved in lawsuit) for a while, i became this guy's liason to Bonnie's non-stop tour.
Ms Raitt is as genuine & delightful as they come, but a trifle insane about men. most of the reason i was sent out on her is that she was in love with a sailor (nk) & would try to find him every time she was near a port town & i hadda keep her sane on this front cuz her manager was afraid she'd sail off with him or summin.
one of the things i noticed quickly when out on tour was that there was a great deal of dangerous drug use &, with the opiates still a factor with sidemen, a LOT disappearing b4 gigs & stuff. i spent more time lookin for drummers & payin off motel mgrs not to call the cops then i did with music stuff. so i proposed that tours would be much more efficient with a pharmacy. when a certain mgr/promoter saw how much cheaper touring was, esp. when artists could be billed for usage & didnt take off with the 1st groupie holdin China White, with this kind of innovation, well, lets just say wikkid was in.
wikkid & his roadie-with-a-hollowed-out-Marshall-amp-head were welcomed at concert venues all over the eastern seaboard & oh, the popularity & kickbacks he enjoyed! i became fairly well known as a Mr Fixit for a lot of touring's ancillary situations and this got me onto a tour with the greatest American rock band of all time, Little Feat. how that got me into bed with eight naked groupies at once in our conclusion.
this guy was apparently impressed by the ZPG benefit & i got a call from him a few wks later. he was looking to expand into outdoor-venue production & would i be interested in bein point on this? i wasnt 19yo yet & about to go back to a job drivin the short bus @ my HS so, HELLLLLLLL YEEEEAHHHH!! when i found out he was bonnie's mgr, i proposed that, if he taught me the biz, i (and the sound guy, who i think he was more interested in) would develop his outdoor capacity. after bein sent out with one act (cant mention, involved in lawsuit) for a while, i became this guy's liason to Bonnie's non-stop tour.
Ms Raitt is as genuine & delightful as they come, but a trifle insane about men. most of the reason i was sent out on her is that she was in love with a sailor (nk) & would try to find him every time she was near a port town & i hadda keep her sane on this front cuz her manager was afraid she'd sail off with him or summin.
one of the things i noticed quickly when out on tour was that there was a great deal of dangerous drug use &, with the opiates still a factor with sidemen, a LOT disappearing b4 gigs & stuff. i spent more time lookin for drummers & payin off motel mgrs not to call the cops then i did with music stuff. so i proposed that tours would be much more efficient with a pharmacy. when a certain mgr/promoter saw how much cheaper touring was, esp. when artists could be billed for usage & didnt take off with the 1st groupie holdin China White, with this kind of innovation, well, lets just say wikkid was in.
wikkid & his roadie-with-a-hollowed-out-Marshall-amp-head were welcomed at concert venues all over the eastern seaboard & oh, the popularity & kickbacks he enjoyed! i became fairly well known as a Mr Fixit for a lot of touring's ancillary situations and this got me onto a tour with the greatest American rock band of all time, Little Feat. how that got me into bed with eight naked groupies at once in our conclusion.
wikkidpissah
Footballguy
there are some people who live closer than others to the ether, essences & energies which make the world go. besides being enormously talented, Lowell George - late, great founder & leader of Little Feat - was closer to those forces than anyone i ever met. sitting with him, u would occasionally see his eyes & brain pulled away for a look at the bizzaro universe, whereupon he'd return with the most ridiculous, insane & magical bit of nonsense you'd ever hear. although the most unassuming kinda guy, he was somewhere in between mystic & schizo, but always a pal.
perhaps because of this faculty, Lowell liked to be either totally plugged in or totally shutdown. the Feat always ended a tour by recording, whereupon he'd head up to his ranch in the Tehachapi Mts with his ol' lady and wouldnt nobody hear from him for quite a while. he'd come back down from the hills when it was time, weighin about 280 lbs. normally, they rehearsed a coupla wks, toured 11-12 more & recorded for a few wks at the end.
thing is, Lowell would stay up on speed the entire time & head back up to the Tehachapis at the end of this cycle worn out in every way & a hundred lbs lighter. this fluctuation eventually caused his heart to quit in '79. i honestly believe that he would be the face of American music had he survived, but the other side is makin good use of him, too, i'm sure.
even tho most of the Feats liked dey potions, no one had the endurance or desire to go step-for-step with their leader. this caused probs cuz he was always wakin folks up to have someone to hang with & explore new concepts & dance with spirit gypsies. i got drafted into service a few times - the memory of singin harmonies with him & JDSouther makes me weep with delight - but it was usually too much for mortals. his people ended up hiring up buncha his friends & avantgarde artists to keep him engaged so the actual functionaries could get some sleep.
one of them was an artist, songwriter, raconteur who i'll call VD (ive mentioned his name b4 in these forums - look him up if u must). he was famous among his own for two other things - a delightful hat collection (bowlers, boaters, berets and all sorts of ol-fashioned stuff that looked hilarious with his hippie locks) and for being damn near the greatest babe magnet of all time. he'd walk into a room (and these werent pikers in the rooms i saw him around) and it wouldnt be long b4 every available female in it was crowded round him, jigglin & gigglin. never seen anything like it.
it got so bad that VD lost his taste for ordinary conjugality. he did have one thing that got him off, though. one of his conditions for coming on tour was always having a king-sized bed. he would narrow his choice of the backstage bevy down to 6-10 women, depending upon mood & accomodations, and invite them all to his room. he would instruct all the women to get nekkid, lie together on the bed & enjoy each other's flesh until they were a snake pit of sexual activity. he would then excuse himself while they got ready for him. if you were in the hallway of Little Feat's hotel at these times, you would occasionally be treated to the sight of VD walking to his room wearing only a bowler hat. he would throw the door open and, if it didnt bounce shut, you could see him pull a chair up to the bed, stand on it, pose like a 10yo wanting his mommy to watch him going off the board for the 1st time, and dive into this fleshpit of wonder.
like i said, i been lucky. well about the luckiest i ever got was one evening i was walking down the hotel hallway and what did i see but VD walking down to his room for a swim, entering it but then leaving in disgust. as he stormed past me, he muttered "insufficient writhing" & tossed me his room key. "theyre yours if u want em". though i had no hat, i walked in, pulled up a chair, stood upon it & had my very own Olympic moment. lets just say there was a mildly greater splash than VD created, but i got to achieve contact with the flesh of eight insufficiently writhing women and three actually stuck around. howzat, kidz?!?!
see u again late next mth.
perhaps because of this faculty, Lowell liked to be either totally plugged in or totally shutdown. the Feat always ended a tour by recording, whereupon he'd head up to his ranch in the Tehachapi Mts with his ol' lady and wouldnt nobody hear from him for quite a while. he'd come back down from the hills when it was time, weighin about 280 lbs. normally, they rehearsed a coupla wks, toured 11-12 more & recorded for a few wks at the end.
thing is, Lowell would stay up on speed the entire time & head back up to the Tehachapis at the end of this cycle worn out in every way & a hundred lbs lighter. this fluctuation eventually caused his heart to quit in '79. i honestly believe that he would be the face of American music had he survived, but the other side is makin good use of him, too, i'm sure.
even tho most of the Feats liked dey potions, no one had the endurance or desire to go step-for-step with their leader. this caused probs cuz he was always wakin folks up to have someone to hang with & explore new concepts & dance with spirit gypsies. i got drafted into service a few times - the memory of singin harmonies with him & JDSouther makes me weep with delight - but it was usually too much for mortals. his people ended up hiring up buncha his friends & avantgarde artists to keep him engaged so the actual functionaries could get some sleep.
one of them was an artist, songwriter, raconteur who i'll call VD (ive mentioned his name b4 in these forums - look him up if u must). he was famous among his own for two other things - a delightful hat collection (bowlers, boaters, berets and all sorts of ol-fashioned stuff that looked hilarious with his hippie locks) and for being damn near the greatest babe magnet of all time. he'd walk into a room (and these werent pikers in the rooms i saw him around) and it wouldnt be long b4 every available female in it was crowded round him, jigglin & gigglin. never seen anything like it.
it got so bad that VD lost his taste for ordinary conjugality. he did have one thing that got him off, though. one of his conditions for coming on tour was always having a king-sized bed. he would narrow his choice of the backstage bevy down to 6-10 women, depending upon mood & accomodations, and invite them all to his room. he would instruct all the women to get nekkid, lie together on the bed & enjoy each other's flesh until they were a snake pit of sexual activity. he would then excuse himself while they got ready for him. if you were in the hallway of Little Feat's hotel at these times, you would occasionally be treated to the sight of VD walking to his room wearing only a bowler hat. he would throw the door open and, if it didnt bounce shut, you could see him pull a chair up to the bed, stand on it, pose like a 10yo wanting his mommy to watch him going off the board for the 1st time, and dive into this fleshpit of wonder.
like i said, i been lucky. well about the luckiest i ever got was one evening i was walking down the hotel hallway and what did i see but VD walking down to his room for a swim, entering it but then leaving in disgust. as he stormed past me, he muttered "insufficient writhing" & tossed me his room key. "theyre yours if u want em". though i had no hat, i walked in, pulled up a chair, stood upon it & had my very own Olympic moment. lets just say there was a mildly greater splash than VD created, but i got to achieve contact with the flesh of eight insufficiently writhing women and three actually stuck around. howzat, kidz?!?!
see u again late next mth.
mon
(T)ool
wikkidpissah
Footballguy
hey, y'all - a family situation has kept me on the road & i am presently staying with my sis in NH & she's a telecommuter & her comp is therefore firewalled against almost everything, so trips to the local library are the only way i can keep up with my fantasy teams & ####. i wont have time, then, to throw any new stories into this pot so i tellyawhati'magonnado -
i had emailed the 1st several chapters of the fictionalized memoir of my gamblin/druggin/crazyasswife years (intended to do for poker what "boogie nights" did for porn) to the guy who edits for me &, therefore, can access them thru my Yahoo mail files. each Monday that i'm on hiatus, i'll post a chapter here. its kinda hifalutin' but, since i got a couple thousand hits on my other memories, i can keep the thread goin, get some feedback from y'all & mebbe even create a li'l buzz. til Monday, then -
i had emailed the 1st several chapters of the fictionalized memoir of my gamblin/druggin/crazyasswife years (intended to do for poker what "boogie nights" did for porn) to the guy who edits for me &, therefore, can access them thru my Yahoo mail files. each Monday that i'm on hiatus, i'll post a chapter here. its kinda hifalutin' but, since i got a couple thousand hits on my other memories, i can keep the thread goin, get some feedback from y'all & mebbe even create a li'l buzz. til Monday, then -
Leroy Hoard
Footballguy
wikkidpissah
Footballguy
Not good - i had a heart attack six days after that last post & another one a coupla months after that. Ever since, i've had a hard time getting into the mindset for telling the story in the unusual style - described by a friend as "Joyce on coke" - i had established in the first dozen chapters. I bang away at it whenever my widower's blues gets me feeling frantically enough about my Mary & the old days to stay in the mood awhile, but those moments occur less & less as i fade into my dotage. I'm so happy with the first part of it that i dont want to give it up completely, but needs dictate that i give greater concentration to more commercial stuff at present. Thx for asking - if anyone wants a taste, PMing me an e-mail addy will get you the first three chapters.
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