What’s that fuckin shit

 



What’s that fuckin shit


     When Dickens opened the "Tale of Two Cities" he could have been describing the six or seven years I spent at Club Virginia. It was the best of times and the worst ot times. However, it was a good time for tape titles because of the ongoing absurdity of living back in South Gate as a 30 year old with no propects. I was bailed out by Timo to move in there when I had the worst year of my adutlhood (until 2015) in 1976. I had two little kittens and a truck full of stuff that we lugged over to a 3-bedroom house that he rented for $140 a month. The place was unkempt but comfortable for a couple of bachelors but not exactly a magnet for possible mates. Luckily, Disa overlooked the poor housekeeping skills of Timo and he moved into marital bliss in 1980. I stayed on until December of 1983 but there were some drawbacks to the location. It was a back house, deep in the lot and even with another back house one door over two brick fences. That house was sometimes occupied by a lowlife named "Blackie" who was an ex-con who never worked in the years he lived near me. In the front house of Blackie's lair was another unfriendly bum who glared but never spoke as we came and went. We called him "Pinning Pedro" and never passed a single civil word with either of these losers. The main expression of "Blackie" was "what's that fucking shit" and it was pronounced with an accent that made us less fond of Puerto Ricans. Luckily for me my dear friend Teresa Gonzalez turned those feelings around in the early 80's. Blackie used ot have his ex-con friends over and drink or smoke while shouting at eachother about which facility was easiest to do time in around the state. Once in a blessed while he violated or did something illega; and disappeared for a time but always returned to shout once again "what's that fucking shit!" While there were tons of laughs inside the old pad at 8456 1/2 with all the best visitors there was always the threat of Pinning or Blackie appearing with a grudge. Blackie also was an influence on the young teens who skulked about and once placed cans on the fence for target practice with a pistol that sent bullets whizzing into my front room while Billy Hogan and I sat watching the tube. "What's that fucking shit?!"



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