It's all about me, Alfie as my family knows me. My name is Alfred Moya III and I was born in Key West Florida on September 12th, 1970. This website serves to tell my history. It's a work in progress and should be completed just after I die. It's not a blog or forum like AlfredMoya.com or full of crap like my MySpace Page. This site is an archive of my life the way I remember it. It's just one page about one life written by the man who lived it.
Alfie.org is dedicated to the women that made Alfie who he is today. They may not realize their importance in my life but it has been dominated by 4 of them and they are Caridad Soriano, Zaida Fallon, Dasha Ray and Elise Moya
First and foremost this goes out to my mother Zaida without whom none of this was possible. Some people will read this and laugh their ass off. Some, including you mom, would cry tears of pain and joy if they actually read it. Some will never read it all cause they can't handle the truth or they are too lazy or internet illiterate maybe. In here you will read me speak my mind and it is a foul mouthed dirty place. Close your ears if need be but stick with it, its been a trippy ride.
Next would be my abuela. A great influence upon my life. Caridad tarted the fire that burns within me, my sister, my brother and our children. Some say it's bad but I say let the fire rage. Burn like the roof is on fire and we don't need no water. Let the mother fucker burn, burn fucker burn.
My sister Dasha and our fist fights comes in third. We battled hard but loved each other more than we knew then. To this very day we battle but the love will never leave. Dasha taught me how to fight out of love if that makes sense.
Lastly to my babies momma Trixy without whom there would be no future with my sons Alfred Jesse and Robert Nesta who are the end result of my life and the reason I wrote this page. They will know the truth as I lived it and not as others want it perceived.
What you read here is the truth as God knows it. Some people can't handle the truth and hide from it. I love it, I embrace it. I live the truth because it is the only way to enligthenment.
My childhood was amazing. I have found memories that I will get into another time for now I'll go with this. I was born son on Stock Island Florida in 1970. I'm going to start with my teen years because its what already has been written. I'll come back and fill in my kid years later.
I say I was born in Key West but I remeber growing up in Stock Island on Balido Street. i spent many wonderful days riding my bicycle around the island until the street lights came on and David whisteled for us to come home.
Our family moved to Ocala Florida in 1984. I graduated North Marion High School Class of 1988 at the age of 17. Moving to Ocala was a pivotal moment in my life. I think Ocala is where I defined who I am and was to become. We actually lived in a small town named Anthony. Anthony Florida in 1984 was a four way intersection with a Kwik King and an elementary school. If it weren't for stop signs you would miss it for sure. Anthony was a backwards ass place and I was the only brown skinned fucker in school. Growing up in KW I never knew or experienced racism. My first day in high school the hottest chick in school asked me which of my parents was black. I was lost. i had no idea what she meant. She said. Your mulatto right? I was like what the fuck is a mulatto. Sounds like a coffee drink. I told her I was 100% Pure Cuban and she lost interest. Nigger Digger.
Freshman year sucked shit. No one liked the cuban dude and I hung with the freaks, band nerds and what not. I made some good friends including Kurt Knipple (not a freak but certainly qualified as band nerd) during that time. His parents had the coolest house I have ever been in to this day. But alas I wanted more from life and soon it would come.
I sold my first bag of grass in 10th grade. I stole it from my step father David. He had like a 50 lb bail in the barn. My cousin Orlando found the bail on Rockland Key I think he said. Shit was hot in Key Weird so he brought it up to us for safe keeping. Thanks Landy. I owe you for that one. So my first deal was about a 1/4 lb chunk I sold for $100 in the school library to Pacer Arrau and Matt Mankin. I sold my first bag before I smoked my first spliff. I know. You must ask. $100 for a QP? I was young and dumb and fooled by Pacer. More on Matt and Pacer later.
I should mention here that I was raised right when it came to being cool. David taught me at a very young age the best piece of advice I can give a man. Loose lips sink ships. You want to hang with the big boys you keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. David, thanks for that. You saved my life with that knowledge many a time. More on David and the valuable life lessons I learned at the Rooster fights and soda parties in Rockland Key later.
During spring break 1986 my step brother David Jr. stayed with us. His first
day in he asked if dad had some pot. I said yeah and I went outside to get some.
I brought back like an ounce and 3 packs of papers. JB 1 1/4 Orange to be exact.
Dad had a whole case hanging on the wall in the barn where he kept the weed.
So we rolled 72 joints that day. David was with us for 7 days and we each smoked
5 joints per day for the duration.
My first joint was me and Brother Dave in the wood shed behind my moms house in Anthony. As David and I smoked our first of what would be many a smoke session I said to David. "Hey dude. I think I got a whole in my lip. I don't feel high." Well little did I know I was fucking stoned to the bone baby. David laughed his ass so hard I thought he would die. It was the first of many good laughs we had smoking pot that week. We had an on going joke for years about having a hole in our lips. Later that week our sisters Dasha and Miko caught on and tried to bust us. Too late we was high and running around the woods in Anthony with shotguns and all the ammo we could carry. We must have shot 1000 animals that spring. That's the reason I went vegan. I figured I had taken enough life in my youth.
Eventually Dave went back home but I couldn't stop smoking cause by then I was hooked. Back then I hated puffing alone so I introduced myself to Darrel "Squirrel" Ray on the bus one day. Darrel knew Dave from when they went to school together and Darrel hung with the other heads in Anthony. I invited Darrel and his buddy Ronnie "Pop Bottle" Atkinson to some smoke. We were all dirt poor and riding bicycles like a hundred miles but it was worth it. I had a fat sack and we all got chinese eyed at Darrels house. His mom Ida was a nurse and Spencer was drunk. The best people you could know. Ida was tough and hated us hanging out so we put lots of miles on those bikes.
With a 40 pound bail in my barn and clueless parents it was fucking party time in Anthony. I smoked about 4 pounds of that shit in a couple months. I had more fucking friends than i knew what to do with. I instantly became the life of every party. Smoking pot opened up so many doors it was confusing but cool. By Junior year I had all the friends. I knew everyone in every group. I had black friends, redneck friends, band friends, loser friends, jock friends and of course my favorite the lady friends. I was hooked up with every head, junkie and dealer in town.
For some reason I seemed to gravitate towards the redneck rockers. I liked the wild boy drunks and mudding parties. We had keggers every weekend, a case every weeknight. we drank so much beer and liquor it was sick. No one had money. Darrel had a 1979 Ford F150 on 36 Monster Mudders with a 351 Cleveland Big Block, Holley 4 Barrel, camed at 10:1 compression I believe and it ran on MD 20/20. No, not really but I tried that once. I figured as strong as that shit is it must burn in your car. I was drunk and wrong. We used to drive around and steal gas, beer, wine coolers and Mad Dog from every store in town. We jacked cars and pawned the crap we stole for pot. We used to by Gainesville Green for $40 a quarter. A quarter was two fingers deep across a sandwich bag in those days.
Senior year a bunch of us got the sweetest deal. We were allowed to live in this huge old house at Svinga Brothers scrap yard. All we had to do was keep the niggers from jumping the fence and stealing shit. Little did they know we were their worst nightmare. There were lots of us there. Most of them named Billy. I know I'm missing some people but I know Billy Hurst, Billy Payne, Buddy Jacobs, Ricki Glately and myself lived there off and on for a long time. We through the baddest parties I ever seen in that place. It was had I think 3 floors. The attic was one huge room with mattresses on the floor. So many bitches got fucked up there that we blew out the floor and it collapsed in places. That's were Jenni Fulford and I got our freak on many times. As did Jenni and Dave. Jenni and Billy. Jenni and Billy and probably Jenni and Buddy. Who knows. Jenni was a good friend.
That house was where I fell in love with Rock and Roll. I heard everything from Zeppelin and The WHo to Lynrd Skynrd and Hank Williams Jr. I used to play the Black Dog cassette over and over and over. I can still listen to Zep all day and be chill with it. Jimmy Page in A Whole Lotta Love is the greatest jam ever. Bocephus is the man and I am a country boy and I can survive. You should never take a mans life for $43.
I got my first bust in that place. I got caught jacking the corner store for beef jerky and a honey bun one morning. Me, Darrel and Ricki were in the store. The dude had a gimp leg and wobbled over to the door and locked me in. Fucking pigs got to me and I was so burnt from the night before I forgot I had a pipe in my pocket someone gave me and I went down for Petty Theft and Paraphernalia. The beginning of the end some would say but for me it was the first contact with them. The fucking pigs. The beginning of my life long relationship with cops and the filth around them. Fuck the police whenever you can. They will fuck you whenever they can. I never eat a pig cause a pig is a cop. Words to live by.
So. I farted around Ocala long enough to run into the law once again. The long version is another book but short version goes like this. Three dumb fucks leave a party in the woods to jump in a car with he bright idea they want to find some food at 3am in the farming community of Anthony. One dumb fuck says to the other. Hey lets jump this fence and kill that mans goat. We'll barbeque his ass on the fire back at the party. The other two dumb fucks agree and jump the fence. The goat got ganked and thrown in the hatchback. The goat was no dumb fuck. He played dead until the dumb fucks threw him in the car. As the fucks rode back to the fire the goat woke up with a slit throat and tried to stand up in the hatchback. When the goat screamed I turned my head from the back seat and holy shit it was a blood bath. It was the closest thing to a horror movie I have ever lived. One broken neck and lots of blood later and the goat shut the fuck up. So we get the goat hung and cleaned back at the fire where we now have a few other drunken dumb fucks who want some goat to eat also. On a dare the number one Dumb Fuck took the still bleeding and very warm heart in his hand and ate a huge chunk out of it raw like sushi baby. I think that was Darrel who pushed me on that on but I'm not sure. I suggest you cook your hearts before eating them. It's kinda tough raw.
Well you might thing it was over but it's not. The first one was such a huge success that we went back a couple weeks later. As Darrel recently reminded me the funniest shit you ever saw was Greg Rose trying to stab a goat with a cheap kitchen knife that kept bending in half. So this time the dumb fucks took too long and the sun came up on them. We took Goat #2 over to Ida's house. We had a history of gator's and goats in her bath tub so we barbequed that fucker on the grill in her front yard. Here comes the funny part. What do you do with a garbage bag full of goat skin and guts? I don't know really but here is what not to do. Never ever ever put a bag of goat entrails in your lap as you ride in the back of Darrels hatchback. When you try to roll the bag out onto the road from your lap the lock on the car for the hatch may catch the bag and rip it open. When this happens goat blood and skin and his nasty as head will fall into your lap. Mind you at 7 am after being awake all night its kinda funny but still gross as hell. Do you want to know why you should never do that? Because when the neighborhood dogs find it they will take parts home. One dog got the feet. One dog got the head and some old lady woke up with a goats head in her lawn. The Orlando Sun labeled us Devil Worshippers cause the goat had a notch cut in his head they swore looked like a pagan symbol but was nothing even similar.
Re-enter cousin Orlando. I called him up and asked for a job. I told him I needed to leave Ocala that day and sure as shit I was gone from Ocala for the next 16 or so years.
Wow. I was back home living in Key Weird. It was 1989 or 90 I'm not sure. I was just about 20 and working for Landy at Tropical AC. Eventually he opened his own gig and we started Key West Air Conditioning together. Well at least That's what I thought but Landy had other ideas. Lesson. Never trust anyone but yourself, even blood will turn on you for money. I was making ok money and puffing down like a champ for many a year at KWAC. I worked on lots of jobsite's and learned a lot about building homes during that time. Good experience. Jesus was a carpenter. Look at the mess he built. Eventually left Orlando cause he refused me a $1 raise after almost two years without one. This parts boring so we'll jump to the next cool spot. After leaving KWAC I went to Sub Zero AC where we had some good times.
Dates elude me here but I think around 92 my sister Dasha hooked up with David "Flaco". They have a son Anthony named after his grandfather. David has done an amazing job raising him with structure in his life. Thank you Flaco. So, they lived in a rat ass trailer his daddy bought for them in Roys trailer park on lovely Stock Island. That's were real conchs live by the way, Stock Island. I was buying grass at some taxed rates at this time and Flaco hooked me up with an old friend of mine who I had not seen since elementary school cuz. Fat Danny was the big man in town and sold pot, pills and coke. i just wanted a better deal on my grass but my friends all needed weed and in a few short weeks I was selling a quarter pound in quarter bags every other day. Things were great as long for awhile until the White Lady entered my life.
I did my first line with Flaco on my moms kitchen counter in her house across from Key West High. It really was Key West High. Fucking rocket fuel. Danny had the best coke in the whole entire universe. It was so flaky and smelled like diesel fuel. Holy Shit it was on like Donkey Fucking Kong. Soon enough I was selling coke to everyone. I had whole construction crews snorting and smoking my shit. I kept my job at Sub Zero AC just to sling dope in the work van. I'm sorry Todd and Peter. I never should have done that to you but man was it fun. I had a van with bucket seats and a huge speaker box in between them. Pop the top on the speaker box and I had a digital scale, a pound or so of grass and a quarter kilo on a friday after noon. We was slinging so much coke it was madness. I made some good friends high on coke.
I met Dale on my first day at Sub Zero. Dale looked indian and I knew he smoked. We were up on the roof of 1800 Atlantic and flying ac units up via crane. Dale and I were standing on the edge waiting for the dude to fly one up and I asked him if he wanted to burn one. Another good friend I made cause I got high. I love you Dale and I love you to Deacon. Deacon was his younger brother and they had an older one named David. (note That's enough David's in the world)
Dale is the biggest booger head I ever knew. He even kicks pasties ass and That's a tough one. Dale loved the booger and so did I. Every Friday night I would drop in to his moms and we would all pile into his bedroom all night long doing lines in the silence while we stared at Beavis and Butthead. I was tweaking the day Kurt Cobain died. We watched his vids on MTV all day and snorted coke. I knew his bitch did it way back then. Dales parents were the best people. Miss Amy was a mad cook. She cooked the best shit you ever ate and she cooked HUGE every single night. Sad part was I was always too coked up to eat. Dale is one of the few people I know who can do a line before dinner and hold it down. We partied at Dales moms for a long time. I met some good people there. I introduced Deacon to his wife Anja when we cruised through the McDonalds drive through one day. She was passing us his food and I asked her name and number. She said anja and I barked out like Ganja and the rest is history. Deacon called her up and Desiree That's how your Mommy met your Daddy.
Deacon and I spent many a day burning spliffs in his mommas yard watching all of Stock Island ride by. I remember watching the crackhead show outside his side gate every evening. I remember watching a bum run out of the bushes one night with a lump on his arm the size of a grapefruit. Poor bastard took a hot shot in the arm and was fucking dying in the streets in front of us. I told him to "Get the fuck off my street your making a mess" Who knows if he died or what. Dale is a metal head and turned me on to Metallica and speedmetal during this time. It was here I got my head banging ways and started growing long hair. Dale and his long mane inspired me to go long. Cypress Hill was what they called me in those days. I zoomed around on my moped with my hat flipped back and my Oakleys always on going 40 while my mind was going like 200 on coke. I was Insane in the Brain. Dale introduced me to Billy the Rasta who showed me that the knots I was getting in my hair while riding my moped were actually dreadlocks and I was a natural dread. I bought my first Tam while we did the AC work in Kenny Rogers. Billy I still have never cut my hair and neither have both my sons. I got 4 feet of locks these days. When I sit down they run down the crack of my ass and tickle me. Thanks for changing my life like no other person has before. I am a dread for life brother and I owe you much love and respect for showing me the way. More on being Dread later.
I met my boy Matthew "Pastey" at Deacons one night. I named his ass pastey because when he snorts coke he looks like Elmers Glue. All pastey and sticky. Pastey is my boy. I love no other brother like I love my dirty brother. He and I see each other on a level most men will never reach. He is my dirty bastard. I need to take care of someone or something and I go look for Pastey. I love you brother. Black suits and ninja boots. Homes. We party in style. I don't have to watch my back when he's around. I'm too busy watching his. Pastey and I did some shit. We used to ride around in that mustang of his going like 2 million miles per hour with 6 million ways to die. Pastey was big on Tool and Pantera. We mashed it many times at the Hide Away Bar on Duval Street spun on dope and banging our heads like Beavis and Butthead. We partied at the HideAway and every strip club, bar and dive joint on the Island. We had fat sacks of weed and coke and VIP access everywhere. Remember the fucking blunt we gave the band at Rum Runners that night. Fucking thing weighed half a pound dude. I rolled that bitch with Cuban Tobacco leaf we got from the cigar shop Downtown. Homeboy gave me the leaf from his personal stash and man were they smooth. I could do a book on me and Pastey another time. Lets add some more people.
I met another huge influence on my life at Deacon and Dales. I met Rhett Allen (RA) and Thomas Jesse (TJ) Hillman in what may have been 93 or 94. RA hung with Deacon a lot. He would come chill on booger nights in Dales room. He had a nose for that shit. He eventually figured out it was me with the hookups and sided up to me pretty fast. RA or RAY as I called him was a good kid, They were both raised in a Christian Home school environment which it appears mean they are never allowed to see the world for what it really is until its far too late to help them. RA was itching me to show him how to sell dope. I figure later he was more interested in my hookup but that's another story. RAY pushed hard and eventually I told him I would show him the drug world. I told him it wasn't as pretty and cool as he thought but he pushed. I made him promise that if I did he would listen to me. I told him he would meet people and he could never tell what they did because it could mess up their lives. I took RA to his first dope deal. We pulled up to the front door and he looked at me with eyes like you never saw before. I thought he was boogered up but what I saw was fear. We were parked in front of the home of a well respected medical professional in KW. I will not name her name but if people knew it would shock them, well at least then it would. This woman was also a very close member of the Hillman family and I was unaware of that. RA flipped. He thought I was fucking with him but I wasn't. He had an 8ball in his pocket and he was going to walk up to that house and sell it to her for me with no questions asked. He had a fucking mini stroke. I reminded him of our deal and with balls of steel he walked up tot he door with me. I knocked and she opened up. Her jaw hit the floor. I told them both to shut up. They had been reintroduced to each others alter ego and I was not concerned with their other lives. Say what you want but I saw it happen. That was the day RA disappeared and brother RAY become a monster. I threw a gram on the table and we all did a line just to make sure no ones mouth ever opened. To this day I believe the secret remains. Brother RAY, every man walks on his one two feet and is responsible for his own choices. I am sorry I took you to that door and onto that path. I am my brothers keeper RAY and to this day I love you like blood. I don't care who says what we're cool for life. Are you your brothers keeper RAY?
RA had a younger brother TJ that tagged along on occasion. He was also a good kid. TJ had a job at like 13 and by 14 owned his own business. I was working for him when he was 16 and I was like 24. TJ was cool and hung around Deacons when he could. He always seemed to want to hang with the big boys but we wouldn't touch him for fear of his mother Mrs Hillman. She is a kind gentle woman with a place by her lords side in heaven already reserved for her. She thinks she can save us all but I hope she succeeds with her own. One day TJ and I ended hanging out. We went down into town and chased up this girl on a bicycle. She was fucking hot as hell. She had a sweet set of tits and a beautiful body. She was walking down the road with her bike and we pulled alongside her. TJ asked how she was and where she was going. She said she needed a beer. I told her we would be right back. My buddy Ace live down the street and he keeps a full keg of beer in a coke machine on his front porch. Fucking thing had a tap right on the front and cups were hanging on the side. All we needed was to jump the fence and boom. One Ice COld fresh beer for the lady. (note: selling drugs keeps you covered with sweet hookups like that). So beer in hand we track the girl down.She was blown away. We took her back to Aces place for more beer and some bong hits.Ace had a 6 foot glass piece that knocked her ass almost out. She was creaming right there. TJ was my boy so we agreed he would hit it and we took her for a ride on the mopeds back to her hotel room. I fell asleep in the hallway outside her room in front of the elevator. Some guy woke me up an hour later and TJ was just finishing up. He slayed the Dragon. I will never forget that smile. Jesus never made him smile like alfie did. I would eventually start working with TJ at Fudgecycle Bicycle Shops. Those were good days. This was before I got really abd into coke and life was still good in the Keys. I loved bikes since birth I think and working with TJ was a dream come true. We had an arrangement I enjoyed. I felt as thought I worked with TJ more than I worked for him if that makes sense. At 15 he was the sharpest and most goal oriented person I knew. He had a good business head and work ethic. I helped him and he helped me. I actually started there by the need to fix up a bicycle after my first arrest took my moped but more on that in a sec. I had a beat down Giant bicycle I bought years back that needed some help. TJ was a hard ass and made me fix it myself. Tight fucker refused to do it for me. After two days of wrenching on my own bike I taught the kid how to answer a phone with something more than hello and we clicked. I was repairing and building bikes before long and loving it. I really loved my job there but I think my addiction had other ideas for me and I got deeper into the bad stuff eventually. It was around this time I met my first ruffie. Oh my best friend they became.
Fat Danny handed me a camera film case full of pills one day and told me to be careful they were strong. He asked me to test them out and tell him what I thought. I was cool with it and went back to Deacons. I woke up the next morning with no clue what happened to me. In Deacons room were piles of crap we had stolen the night before. We had luggage, car stereos, dive gear all sorts of shit. Deacon and Casey McDonald had convinced me that we should go robbing cars like I did when we were kids. We must have hit 20 cars. We had so much shit it was scary. Did I mention Deacons dad was a guard at the prison? Well he was and he was scary. So began my fascination with Rohypnol and all downers for that matter. From that first bottle I can confirm that one person drove a motorcycle into a wall at 60 and died. One person drove a Honda accord into the Southermost Point and was hospitalized for weeks. A group of boys bought a five pack from one of my boys and gang raped a high school chick. They sent the pictures to her dad and got busted by the cops like the scumbags deserved.
Within 6 months I was chewing up to 30 or more per day. That's right 30 fucking ruffies a day. I could eat 5 at a time and drive a car. I've seen one pill knock a 200 lb man down in under 15 minutes, out like a fucking light and not able to be awoken until the next day. I dropped one in a kids mouth in my brother Dustins bedroom one day and he was out in about 5 minutes. Done for the evening and never to return. One evening I walked out of Fudgecycle Bikes without locking up. I jumped on my bike and left my kid brother Ben alone. He had to call TJ and his father to lock up. Needless to say I left soon afterwards. I went for a bike ride and was seen fighting with my bike and a telephone pole on Duval street. I was also seen crashing my bike on Simonton by another person and still another person saw me throw my bike in the sand on the beach hours later. I remember shit. I woke up on my moms living room floor which was where I landed when I was to stoned for anything else. I fell into the house and left the door open. I woke up the next morning and tried to stand up. No luck, my shoulder was busted up. I called mom and told her I needed to go to the hospital. When I got there the doctors eyes bugged out of his face when he saw my shoulder was completely separated. He asked me if I hurt and needed meds. I told him fuck no I had a picket full of ruffies. Would you like some?
Shit its late. I'm going to bed for now. Be back soon. We'll be getting into Spectrum and Miami, Fort Lauderdale and The Internet and finally back to Alfred Moya today which can be reached at http://www.alfredmoya.com
alfie
Everythign you read here is true to the very best of my shot out oversmoked memory. If someone has some shit to say to me then you can send me an email at alfred at alfredmoya.com and if your not some asshole looking for money I'll answer. If you have a problem with your name being listed here then you should not have done what we did. Like it says a the top I have no regrets and I am not embarrassed of who I am or of what I have seen and done. There is nothing like the truth to cleanse the soul and I feel pure inside. Fuck em if they can't handle the truth.