Quote:
Originally Posted by DaneMcCloud
My first year in Los Angeles, I had a toothless crack whore manager. I'd wake up with roaches crawling on my blankets, sheets and body. My car was broken into several times and stereo stolen.
There were gunshots and helicopters flying over my building every night and drug deals happening just outside Pla-Boy liquors on Yucca and Wilcox with the nearest bar being Hell's Gate, a BDSM club. Nothing but a 7/11 within walking distance, if I could get past the homeless.
Good times.
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Ha ha! I spent a year on Cherokee just north of Yucca leading up to the riots. That all sounds very similar to my experience a couple blocks over from wilcox. I once traded a shower to a homeless panhandler kid for bus fare to a job interview. I didn't care at all where I lived. I needed a home only to sleep and clean up, and three people in a 1 bedroom worked just fine most of the time. There was just so much to do following the dreams, right? Not to mention so much to do for fun. I lived well then even if there were roaches and sketchy managers!
We contributed to the unique Hollywood vibe at the time by hosting ouija board sessions for tourists because the Black Dahlia had lived in the building. They'd each pay us ten bucks and we'd all sit around the hallway on the fourth floor pretending to talk to ghosts. it was fun.