The shooting gallery in Fun House [their communal residence] was my brother's apartment. It had a bedroom, a bathroom, and it was perfect for shooting dope - a dark green tile floor, a big round table, and those kind of cheap white acoustical ceiling things they used to have in doctors' offices. Very fifties. The walls were already kind of brown, but the worst thing was that the acoustical tiles were all bloodstained. And there were big blood drips on the floor, and on the walls, because when you pull a needle out of your arm after shooting up, some blood gets in the syringe, and to clean it out, you squirt it.
So they squirted the walls and the ceiling a lot. Shhhhtick...blood on the ceiling, blood on the walls, just good drops, like if you took a squirt gun and just shot water up there. This went on for a long time. It wasn't all red, just big ugly brown stains, but a lot of times there would be fresh red stuff. Then it would drip on the table or on the floor, where they'd throw their cotton balls. Such degradation.
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Sin is like that. We justify and justify and have reason after reason why it's okay...but when we look back at it, it kind of makes us sick.
Truth is...it's amazing the stuff we do that we think is cool when we're in the midst of doing it.