Daddy, no it was JEFFREY who lived across from Squat, one block up, and between him, various denizens of Squat, and the Yab on the edge of Soho, heroin and coke was purveyed to all of Downtown who wanted it. The drug-buying parties were an all-star list...!
One night I was sent to one of the Squatter's off-site apts. to pick up something - I was such an ass - and when I looked out the window, he went insane and locked down the apt. for THREE HOURS claiming I was 'signalling to the police'. I kept calling Jeffry to come rescue me and he just laughed. I developed a total hatred of the Squats after that.
At one point I was so crazed over every other person I knew being a junkie... that I even went to the head of Squat and had a conference with him -- so naive, telling him they ought to do something else to shore up their enterprise. That they were destroying artists so they
could keep that big fucking soup pot full.
The fellow said to me: "We love drugs. It is the American Way."
He was right.