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Life of a heroin junkie: A new doc about punk rock drug addiction

Bob Forrest’s junkie past is laid bare in ‘Bob and the Monster’


 

WARNING: sensitive language

Interview by Claire Ward
Shot and edited by Tom Henheffer
Produced by Claire Ward


 

Life of a heroin junkie: A new doc about punk rock drug addiction

  1. THE CAFFIN AVENUE METHADONE CLINIC, four blocks from Fat’s Domino’s house, right on Caffin Avenue, off of St. Claude Avenue in New Orleans, was a drab grey two story anonymous building on a side street except the nearly two dozen dope fiends lined up at five am, in pitch dark in the dim dull burnt orange street lights. Skinny black crack heads could be seen darting around corners like ghosts of New Orleans sultry past. The line went from the parking lot up a flight of stairs to a landing that went around the entire front of the second floor. When you went in the door it was just a phony wood paneled area with cheap chairs lines the walls except where a big fat black women could be seen handing out little clear cups of pink colored weak juice thru a thick Plexiglas sliding window. As soon as you stepped in the door you had to sign a list and then wait four your name to be called. Sitting in there with a small percentage of the crime problem in the city; small time thieves, unemployable, broke down dope fiends, I couldn’t begin to describe this sorry lot except to say there wasn’t a lot of hope for most of these mopes. Dope Sick Angel by Mark Anthony Given reallifeheist dot com

  2. TENNESSEE WILLIAMS WASN’T born in Tennessee and the Battle of New Orleans wasn’t fought in New Orleans but ten miles up the river in Chalmette, Louisiana just past the parish line in Arabi where sheriff deputies on one side, and New Orleans detectives on the other watched the “Da Parish Line day and night like they was sitting on a private stocked pond, often with a highly trained big Belgian Black Shepard Police Dog that can smell you coming before you got out of bed this morning and just like the British at the sudden turn in the muddy fast running Mississippi River, they could have spun their battle ships on a dime in the treacherous and fast current but by the time you see the motley crew of determined early Americans, they lit their ass up so fast it was like shooting ducks in a barrel and just like you, ‘they didn’t stand a chance…. Andrew Jackson’s resounding defeat by outsmarting the British propelled him to the Presidency and I used to drive out there and do a complete circle over a mile all the way around I would park all the way in the back with my back to the River, and could watch the park entrance right by the ancient cemetery behind rusting wrought iron trying to hold back Time. I would park with a half a can cheap cola next to a half eaten sandwich by a map on the dashboard with out of state plates like Joe Tourist except I was shooting dope out under the bright sunshine and blue skies and battled my own elegant sadness.http://homelessinheaven.blogspot.com/2014/03/the-elegant-sadness-by-mark-anthony.html

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