They Don't Need to Understand by Andy Biersack

Author:Andy Biersack
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rare Bird Books
Published: 2020-11-13T19:55:54+00:00

17

Coke & Vomit

Sandra’s social network came to my rescue once again. It was thanks to her that I was able to find a roommate who could help me cover the rent at the Compound.

Jessica was a girl from Pennsylvania who dated Sandra and agreed to relocate to Hollywood after our first tour so they could be together. But by the time the tour finished, they had broken up. Jessica had only recently come out to her parents and was eager to get her life moving on the West Coast regardless, so she came to California anyway.

My new roommate became sick with food poisoning right away. We hadn’t realized we needed to have the electric bill switched over to us before we moved in, so there we sat, at Christmastime, with the lights off. My dad had narrowly escaped a near-death experience just after helping me secure that apartment. Next thing I knew, it was New Year’s Eve, and I lie down, kept awake by the sound of poor Jessica throwing up.

By no means would she be the only person to vomit into the Compound’s toilet.

The first time I ever got drunk was in that apartment. Every other time I’d had alcohol, it was maybe half a shot, and then I would just pretend I was inebriated. I tried vodka for the first time there; it was the first time I was ever totally obliterated.

Jessica, Jake, and I were regularly joined in our tiny apartment by the rest of the band. Many celebratory nights (and shameful mornings) at the Compound included a rogue’s gallery of struggling LA musicians and an assortment of significant others.

A nearby Rite Aid drugstore became our dealer of choice for any alcohol we could afford once we’d scraped together a few dollars from whatever collection of people came over on a given night. We drank a lot of Seagram’s 7. We consumed so much of it that a bunch of us went out and got tattoos of the Seagram’s 7 logo. I put that logo on my flesh twice. One has the words “American Rock N’ Roll” surrounding it, the other features a tiny koala (dressed as me) drinking a bottle of Seagram’s 7.

A German musician named Romeo showed up at the door one day and asked if he could stay for a bit because he knew someone we knew. (It turned out he had been staying with this girl, and she’d kicked him out.) At this point, the people who lived at the Compound were Jake, Jessica, this total stranger from Europe with a thick German accent, and me. It was all four of us in this one-bedroom place that was barely any bigger than a studio apartment with constant overnight guests.

For a year or two, the place became so disgusting and destroyed that it became infamous amongst the LA rock scene. I believe Jinxx came up with the name “The Compound,” a moniker we chose to embrace to the fullest extent possible.

One night we decided to redecorate with as much junk furniture as we could find on the streets.

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