When I was 17 my uncle James hired me to frame houses with him. It was the summer of 1994 and the Seattle thing was in full swing. Everybody was playing Nirvana and all this new "grunge" shit and I don't really know how to explain this, but it was pissing me off. I don't know why. That summer we pretty much raised hell and to be honest, I was kind of out of control. It turned out that the Nirvana and Soundgarden we were constantly jamming on was fueling our rage. Well that, and tons of drugs and booze. I had to take some court ordered therapy horseshit to, quote "get yourself back in line" according to my mom anyway. It worked. When I was in rehab in Florida, I met this guy named Donnie who claimed to be in the band 38 Special. He gave me a bunch of tapes. Long story short - I used the 38 to get myself straight. Longer story short - Donnie was apparently NOT in the band I later found out. Fucked me up.