Pictures of My Feet

Photo gallery included

I had a cold. I was run down, because I had been running myself ragged. Just the week before, a guy from a well known band had come over to my place, pulled a mirror off the wall, laid it flat over the kitchen sink, and dumped out a bag of white powder — chopping fat lines for me and my roommate. I was eighteen. My roommate was around twenty-one. He was like, forty. We thought he was cool and we thought it was coke. Turned out to be speed, and the dude… not so cool, cause that shit kept us up for three days straight.

I have a vivid memory of my roommate and me, hiding under a blanket with a flashlight, tearfully moaning over childhood traumas. This was after we’d blacked out the windows with sheets, towels and tin foil. I learned a big lesson that day… If it burns, buckle up. But things were about to get much worse…

On this particular night, I had just returned to my apartment after my shift at the Irish pub, where I waited tables. It was around midnight, and I poked around the mice-tur…