Event Details
Date: Thursday, June 21, 2012
Start Time: 9:00 PM
Event Type: Special Events, Concerts
Last Updated: June 15, 2012
Views: 2
LocationEl Mocambo, The1st FloorNever Trust a WizardUnfortunately, it wasn't just cum she sent flying around the house. It was dishes, clothes, chairs, fists basically anything within reach of her temper. Up until then, and I'd lived in Compton, I'd never seen anyone get that violent. One wrong word or look would cause her to explode in a jealous rage. One night, Luke tried to keep her away by jamming the door to the house shut the lock was long since broken from being repeatedly kicked in by the police and she grabbed a fire extinguisher and threw it through the plate-glass window to get inside. The police returned later that night and drew their guns on Luke while Nilsson and I hid in the bathroom. I'm not sure which we were more scared of: Bullwinkle or the cops.We never repaired the window. That would have been too much work. People would pour into the house, located near the Whisky A Go-Go, for after-hours parties, either through the broken window or the warped, rotting brown front door, which would only stay closed if we folded a piece of cardboard and wedged it underneath. I shared a room with Luke while Nilsson, that fucker, got the big room to himself. When we moved in, we agreed to rotate and every month a different person would get the solo room. But it never happened. It was too much work.It was 1981, and we were broke, with one thousand seven-inch singles that our manager had pressed for us and a few decimated possessions to our name. In the front room sat one leather couch and a stereo that Luke's parents had given him for Christmas. The ceiling was covered with small round dents because every time the neighbors complained about the noise, we'd retaliate by pounding on the ceiling with broom handles and guitar necks. The carpet was filthy with alcohol, blood, and cigarette burns, and the walls were scorched black.