11:30 a.m.

Here comes the New Year…same as the old year?

Pete said I really must open those Christmas presents soon…

NIKKI: Vanity came and went during different periods of my addiction. She was a wild black chick who had sung with Prince: she’d also been his lover for a while. At the time I thought of Vanity as a disposable human being, like a used needle. Once its purpose was fulfilled it was ready for the trash, only to be dug up if you were really desperate.

Maybe the manner in which I’d met Vanity should have told me this was to be no normal relationship. Back in ’86 I used to hang out with a guy named Pete: in fact, he was semi-living in my house. Pete was a six-foot-six cross between Keith Richards and Herman Munster and looked like the coolest rock star around, except that he couldn’t play shit. We used to sit in my house watching TV and snorting coke and pointing out girls that we’d like to fuck. Then I’d phone the Mötley office and they’d get us the girls’ numbers so we could call them. It was a sick lil game we played…never really realizing we were playing with people’s lives.

We saw Vanity on MTV, and when Pete said, “Dude, that’s Prince’s old girl,” I said, “Excellent–he’s got a tiny dick.” The office rang Vanity and arranged for us to meet. She opened the door naked, with her eyes going around in her head. Somehow I had a feeling that we might just hit it off.

We became drug buddies: sometimes, you could even just about call us boyfriend and girlfriend. Vanity also taught me how to really freebase: the first time I based was with Tommy when Mötley just started and only a few times after that. So up until then, I’d been mostly snorting or injecting. But as soon as she showed me the real ins and outs of cooking up a good rock…it was love.

Not her. The drug.

EVANGELIST DENISE MATTHEWS: Webster’s Dictionary assassinates the word Vanity, describing its meaning as worthless. What a bold mistake that was. God forgave me for that ugly name. You might say I was a collector: I collected a long list of vile addictions throughout my journey of paranoia, boldly going where most have not gone before, hiding behind the face that launched a thousand nothings.

Most don’t call me Vanity any longer. My friends call me Denise; the Saints call me Evangelist. It doesn’t really matter; I don’t answer to Vanity. I would much rather be a fish stuck in a pond with a starving shark than take on such a foul name of nothingness. I am this new creature in Christ and I persevere to keep changing for the better.


Van Nuys, 5:20 p.m.

Dear diary, here is a typical holiday day in my rock star paradise.

Wake up around noon…if I’ve been to bed. See if I’m alone. If I’m with somebody else, try to remember what her name is–but that hasn’t been happening too much lately. Girls have kinda stopped coming around…

Crawl out of bed, feel hungover or dope sick. Wipe last night out of my eyes. Wonder if I need to shower. Decide that I don’t…I’ll only get dirty again.

On a good day, pick up my guitar. On a bad day, flop in front of MTV. Most days, do both. Do a little bump to wake me up. Some people use coffee for that…we all have our little rituals. Then it starts…

The itch starts. The coke makes me edgy, so I have a little sniff of my breakfast blend and a valium or two to calm me down. But I need Jason. If his answering machine is on, I sit here twitching until he phones back. When the phone rings–if it’s Jason–it’s the best thing in the world. If it’s not, I want the person at the other end to die. Sometimes I wonder if they know that I am strung out, and they are calling just to torment me.

And when Jason doesn’t call at all? That’s when the fucking joneses start. Being dope sick is the worst feeling in the world. I hope it never happens to you. Unless you have it coming…I could name a few. When you’re junk sick, you’ll do just about anything for a fix. It’s all you think about…it haunts you.

Eventually I go to my cottons, squeeze some lemon juice on them, and try and wring out a few cc’s. I’ve done it all. Once I even shot up some weird stuff I found stuck in the bushes outside a drug dealer’s house–then I found out it wasn’t some lucky find on my part, it was fucking crystallized brown sugar. Man, I thought I’d hit the mother lode when I found that baggy.

But when Jason finally shows up, he makes everything better. It’s like he’s got the power to heal…and that prick shows his power every chance he gets.

VINCE NEIL: You know the problem with Nikki Sixx? He can’t do anything just a little bit. He can’t do a little bit of coke–he’s got to do all the coke. He can’t take a little bit of heroin–he’s got to take all the heroin. He can’t just have one sip of wine–he’s got to drink the bar out. There’s no middle speed for that dude–it’s zero or ten.


Van Nuys, midnight

Bob Michaels came over tonight. We drank a few beers, had a couple lines…Bob is a good guy. He gets fucked up with me but he’s not like me…he’s normal.

BOB MICHAELS: Nikki Sixx and I had been friends ever since the day in 1983 that he moved in next door to me. I remember seeing this real tall guy in six-inch heels with lots of black hair and makeup, and thinking, Who the fuck is that? But we became friends real quick. That building was Party Central: I think everyone who lived there was involved in either supplying or consuming narcotics. Robbin Crosby from Ratt lived downstairs from Nikki, and Tommy was around all the time.

I stayed friends with Nikki when he moved into his next house, on Valley Vista Boulevard in Van Nuys, but by then he was struggling with all kinds of addiction–heroin, alcoholism. Nikki would put anything into his arm that he could–heroin, coke, and loads of other things that should never be put into an arm. Personally, I pinpoint his problems from Vince Neil going to jail in 1985. That made Nikki think for the first time: What would happen if the band stopped? Maybe it scared him, because that’s when his drug habit started to get out of control.


Van Nuys, 9:30 p.m.

Listening to the Dolls and the Stooges. Wow. Amazing. Then mix in some John Lee Hooker or Buddy Miles. Then the first Aerosmith album…I love music…This is life, like Burroughs, or Kerouac, or Ginsberg…the flames who burn bright.

Other people hide away from life. People like me, or Keith Richards, or Johnny Thunders–we live it. We’re right here, feeling everything, in the moment…the only way to be truly alive is to confront your mortality…

NIKKI: I really used to think this way. Keith and Johnny lived like this, so why shouldn’t I? I know it looks crazy now, but at the time, it seemed the only way to live. I was just another wasted, confused, unraveling millionaire rock star.

MICK MARS: Nikki was always trying to rebel. He had enough money to act like Sid Vicious, and he always loved him, so that’s exactly what he did: he role-played the part of Sid. Of course, it never seemed to occur to him that Sid ended up killing himself. Did Nikki take so many drugs back then because he was unhappy? Well, I’m pretty unhappy now, and I’m not taking them!


Van Nuys, 11:30 p.m.

There’s this funny thing about heroin…the first time you do it, you throw up, you feel sick and you can’t move. You lay on your back and your head spins and your body flips…you say to yourself, this is the stupidest drug ever. Only the dumb of the dumb would ever do it again.

So why did I do it again? Because my heroes did it…because I idolize my heroes because they didn’t care; and I really don’t care about anything.

Heroin, once it became my friend, became like a warm blanket on a cold night. Now I can’t imagine living without it. I can’t imagine not having it. I don’t get sick from it now–I get sick if I don’t do it.

Isn’t it funny how that works?

NIKKI: Cocaine made me high until I went too far and became wild and psychotic: heroin balanced that out and made me calm. I would self-medicate in my house for days with the obsessive addiction of a research scientist. Maybe I saw it as a yin and yang thing? It all made sense in my junkie wonderland.

TOMMY LEE: The first time I took heroin was at Nikki’s place at Valley Vista Boulevard. He was taking it and I thought, Fuck, I want to try this shit. I shot up on his couch, pulled the needle out and immediately had the biggest rush on the planet. I was just lying there, then within a minute I had to rush to his bathroom, spraying throw-up through my fingers. Then I came out really high, walked back to his couch and just passed out. Later I thought, I’m not sure that I like this. The needle hurt on the way in, there was a very short really high point, then I threw up and passed out. What the fuck is this?

I asked Nikki, “Are you sure about this shit?” But unlike me, Sixx seemed to be pretty fucking sure.


Van Nuys, 3:25 a.m.

Sometimes, if I didn’t know better…I’d think that my dealer is trying to kill me.

Little mean faces Here I sit in the dark Letting my insanity run away Little mean faces stare back at me Chanting rhythms of my fate I know they’re not real And I’m sure I’m really quite sane Because if I was crazy I would have given them all little names

10 a.m.

Pete won’t admit it, but he’s got a habit too.



Buy guitar strings

Buy food

Call management back Return decorator’s call Get more locks for the doors Replace busted back window

NIKKI: My house was a site of constant misadventure. All sorts of mayhem would unfold. One day I would get a strippers’ pole put in my bedroom because I thought it was classy. A few days later I would tear it down because I’d decided it was crass. There were constant spontaneous décor rethinks. It was very confusing even for such a confused time. It tends to be that way when you’re going insane.


Van Nuys, midnight

I love this house…the times that I don’t hate it.


It’s funny how I never even saw the place before I bought it. Nicole chose the place for me, then we moved in, made it our heroin den, and hardly left for months. Now Nicole has moved out and I’ve got Vanity. I’ve gone from a junkie to a crack head…is that progress?

But I love prowling around this house from room to room. I love that it’s so dark: a house that can keep secrets. I don’t want to ever leave here but I have to…’cause rehearsals start next week.


NIKKI: The house was on Valley Vista Boulevard in Van Nuys, LA. My former girlfriend Nicole had chosen it for me. I was touring Theatre of Pain with Mötley, and she would view properties in LA, video them and bring the videos out on the road to show me. It took me about a minute to say yes. What was the big deal? I had so much money then, I could have bought anywhere.

I hired an interior decorator who would turn up for meetings with her fabrics and samples, and find me strung out of my head. She’d step over the needles, and the empty coke bindles, and the comatose naked girls on my $25,000 Persian rugs with cigarette burns on them, and she’d never even bat an eyelid. I must hand it to her—she was very professional.

My house was full of red velvet hangings, gothic furniture, antiques and gargoyles that loomed at you out of the darkness. It was a house to lose yourself in–and to lose your mind in.


JANUARY 10TH, 1987

Van Nuys, 9:40 p.m. p.m.

Today I made myself pick up my guitar, knowing that I have to write more songs for this next album. I managed to string it, but the writing just wasn’t happening…that scares me, because music is all I have to live for. Tommy and Vince and even Mick have their families to go home to at the end of the day. Music has always been my family, and now I’m losing that too…every corner of my mind is filled with spiderwebs and fear…


Van Nuys, 11 p.m.

Me and Pete spent the day shooting the breeze. Pete talks like he has loads of things going on, but he never really gets his shit together. He still owes me the $9,000 bail I posted for him after he got busted on probation with track marks on his arm. He says I’ll get it back one day…whatever…

I’ve realized something about Pete. His hair always looks so cool, with all weird pieces and extensions woven into it, but I’ve never seen him without a hat, or without a towel over his head when he gets outta the shower. It’s too perfect…is it even his own hair? I think it’s a fucking wig!

NIKKI: I never did get my money back from Pete. After he vanished, I heard many stories of his adventures from people over the years. The last one I heard was that he’d been sent to jail after trying to rob a bank–on a bicycle. I have no idea if it is true, but it would be a very Pete thing to do.

JANUARY 12TH, 1987

Van Nuys, 4 p.m.

I’ve enrolled in a methadone program and I think it’s gonna go well. Davey told me he kicked a bad Persian habit this way, so I’m hopeful…so every morning at nine I’m down there, the rock star junkie in his blacked-out Corvette, lining up in my ski cap and sunglasses with all the others for my daily dose.

I’m gonna kick this shit…I know I am. This has to work…I don’t know how I’m gonna tour like this if it doesn’t. I can do it…as long as I don’t chip too much.

NIKKI: Most methadone programs last thirty days and are intended to wean addicts off heroin while keeping them away from dirty needles, HIV, dealers and the general paraphernalia of the drug world. I used to get my methadone dose then call on Jason for dope. Did it work? I was so strung out that I think I may have simply added methadone to my already impressive list of existing addictions.

“Davey”–whose real name cannot be disclosed–is one of the biggest rock stars in the world. I can’t tell you his name…but I sure loved his music growing up…

JANUARY 13TH, 1987

Van Nuys, 9 p.m.

Today I phoned my sister. I have no idea why. We have nothing to say to each other…

CECI COMER: My brother, Nikki, is seven years older than me and he is imprinted on my heart like my faith–which is strange but true, because he hasn’t always deserved to be. I’ve never understood it, but the feeling has never left me. But there have been plenty of times I’ve despised him too.

When we were kids we would play together in El Paso. We made mudslides (he ripped his foot open), caught horny toads and snakes and shot Roman candles at each other on July 4 inside a cement mixer. One time Grandpa pulled a huge cactus thorn from his kneecap; another time Nikki sliced his finger on the pigpen so bad that it was hardly attached. It was just wobbling and shooting torrential downpours of blood. He even got struck by lightning in our doorway one day.

Nikki became my hero when he saved me from a big rattlesnake–I thought I could pet it, but he ran and picked me up as it was about to strike. He used to keep snakes as pets. Once one of them killed and ate my quarter turtle–I wanted to kill that snake! Nikki still owes me for that.

Then Mom and I moved to Washington and Nikki went to live with our grandparents. I think in Mom’s mind it was only ever temporary and Nikki would come to join us when the dust had settled, but he never did come to stay with us. I think maybe Nikki figured Mom loved me more than him but it wasn’t that–I was just younger and in her possession. And Mom tried to always have a room for Nikki in whatever house we lived in.

After Nikki got famous we really drifted apart. He’d never contact us, apart from occasionally when he was coming to town. And the times that I did hear from him, he was such an ass. He’d ask me how things were, then when I’d tell him he would cut the conversation short or change the subject. He was rude, full of himself, he just crushed me so many times…he was an asshole.


Van Nuys, 11:30 a.m.

Last night, after Jason left, was madness…I’m not having him bring smack very often but my coke intake is up 1,000%. I was creeping around the house, listening to the voices, when I noticed all the platinum disks hanging on the walls, and suddenly I hated them. Why were they there? Mötley is about music and passion, not awards from a dumb industry that hates us and skims millions of dollars off us. So I went from room to room wrenching the disks off the walls and dumping them in the garage. Then I suddenly felt stupid…we earned those disks, we should be proud of them. So I put them all on the floor below where they used to hang.


We’re back in the studio tomorrow.

BOB MICHAELS: Nikki is a very driven individual. Sometimes he’d put drugs on the back burner for a while for cars, or seventeen-foot trucks, but it got to the point where nothing else mattered but getting high. He went from being fun to never being happy unless he was totally wasted. He used to check his mailbox seven times a day, but it wasn’t the mail he was after…it was the drugs that the dealers used to leave there for him. He’d go to the mailbox, then to the bathroom and come out a much more comfortable person.

Insanity runs deep in the company that I keep Insanity runs deep in everyone but me My padded walls you call my eyes My dreams that you call my lies Around my wrists my shackles lay Razor blades and cocaine to pass the time away

JANUARY 15TH, 1987

Van Nuys, 8:30 p.m.

Today we were back in the studio, writing for the new album. I rode in on my Harley feeling all jittery and decided to stop for a small fix…went in Denny’s on Gower and Sunset (always the classy guy!). I didn’t have a spoon, so I bought a bottle of Pepsi, threw the bottle away, kept the cap and went in their bathroom to shoot up. The shitter was disgusting–black rings and shit stains around the bowl and the unclever graffiti all over the walls…

I sat on my motorcycle helmet on the floor and filled the cap with water from the toilet. I dunno why I didn’t fill it from the sink, like any sane person would. I put the bottle cap on the toilet seat in the piss and stains, and poured coke in it. I drew it up in the syringe, washed it out in the shit water, put a little china white in the cap and cooked it, burning my fingers. I had no cottons, so I just drew it up and shot up.

The studio was fine after that…I just felt dead.

DOUG THALER: I co-managed Mötley Crüe together with Doc McGhee for many years, and when I first started Nikki was a pain in the ass. He just had a knee-jerk reaction against us as authority figures and never understood we were trying to help him. I used to go to band meetings with my stomach tied in knots.

One day I just snapped and said to him, “You can’t be an asshole all your life.” I offered that in the future I’d present ideas and strategies to him before the rest of the band, and he liked that. After that we got along a lot better: I’d like to think he saw me as some sort of elder brother, or even a mentor.

One side effect of Nikki’s control-freak nature was that, whenever Mötley was in the studio, he wanted to be there every single minute of the night and day. On Girls Girls Girls, he was a lot more removed from the process. He often wasn’t there at all, and when he did come in, he was in no shape to do anything–he would just be making no sense. That’s when I started to realize how ill he was.

JANUARY 16TH, 1987

Van Nuys, 10:10 p.m.

Last night was a bad one. When I rode into the studio this afternoon I knew I was still high, and the others seemed shocked at the state I was in. I started showing them a new song but Tommy interrupted and asked me, Dude, what’s on your hand?

He’d seen my track marks, so I told him that I’d met a chick a few days ago and pulled an all-nighter, done a little shooting up…coke…Tommy just looked at me as if to say, That was no party. He could see my hands were one big scab. I’m looking at them now, as I write…all my veins have collapsed.

But Tommy never said anything. Nobody ever does. The guys aren’t exactly angels themselves so it would just be the pot calling the kettle black…Mötley doesn’t like confrontation and they don’t like to cross me. So I taught them the new song and everything was OK.

TOMMY LEE: Nikki was turning up to the studio for the Girls Girls Girls sessions in a bit of a fucking mess. I guess we were all a bit of a mess, but Nikki definitely went that one step further than the rest of us. He’d show up really late, he and I would chase the dragon in the bathroom, then we’d go back into the studio to try to work. I think it’s fair to say our focus was on the drugs and not on the music.

VINCE NEIL: I knew Nikki had a drug problem right back when we were doing Shout at the Devil. We all had drug problems, at our own levels, but Nikki’s just seemed more amplified than anybody else’s. But he never got in trouble for it–if anything happened, it was taken care of right away. Our management always just smoothed everything over because Nikki was writing songs and making money for everybody. Why would they want to throw a stone in the wheel and stop the money machine from turning?

TIM LUZZI: I was Nikki’s bass technician for many years, including during the recording of the Girls Girls Girls album. I first started working for him when they made Too Fast for Love and remember that on my first day, Nikki came into the studio with a black eye, having spent the night in a police cell. That pretty much set the tone for what was to follow.

JANUARY 17TH, 1987

Van Nuys, midnight

Today I went into the studio and everyone was staring at me and asking what happened to me yesterday. Apparently I just vanished…went to the bathroom and never came back. Between me and you, I guess I was in a bit of a blackout.

So I started teaching them a new song. I gave Vince the lyrics and showed Mick the guitar riff. They said nothing and started playing…they were good…they got it right away. Then halfway through the song I realized they knew it already. I’d already shown them the song…yesterday.

I didn’t say anything. Of course, neither did they…what could they say? It was a very uncomfortable feeling…I think we all realized right there that this isn’t what it used to be. The drugs are running the show and we’re all scared to death. I’m sure they called Doug and Doc after I left. I expect a call any day. They must know I am going insane.

MICK MARS: When we were making Girls Girls Girls, Nikki would ride down to the studio on his motorcycle, come in, look at the place, say “OK, we’re done” and then everybody would go home. That was pretty much the way it was. I don’t think he even knew what he was doing: it was pretty horrible. The only good thing, from my point of view, was that it made him much less of a control freak than usual.

DOC McGHEE: As a manager I used to be very close to Nikki, but while Mötley was doing Girls Girls Girls he was just Out There. We saw he had a problem and I realized he was coming apart, unraveling, but it was a crazy period. We didn’t talk as much as before because he was just never there…when you’re a heroin addict, you just gravitate towards the few people that you do the drug with. Everybody else just stays away. I knew what the problem was and I hoped it was just something that Nikki was going through, but heroin isn’t something that you just go through. It’s the worst drug in the world.

JANUARY 18TH, 1987

Van Nuys, 11:40 p.m.

I don’t know if this album we’re making is any good. I don’t know if I even like it…and if I don’t like it, who will?

I have to pull it together. I don’t know how to stop. I don’t want to go to rehab again…but I’m at a loss for how to get off…

NIKKI: It amazes me now that nobody from Mötley said anything to me about the state I was in. I was writing some pretty lame songs, and nobody dared tell me they sucked. Were they scared to challenge me? Looking back, I don’t blame them.

ROSS HALFIN: I don’t think people were scared of Nikki–they just didn’t care. He was their paycheck and they didn’t give a shit if he was falling to bits as long as he got up there onstage. Back then was an anything goes sort of time. Doc was doing drugs, so was Doug, everyone was. The only person as bad as Nikki was Tommy, and even he wasn’t doing heroin–he was just snorting coke and drinking. Without Nikki, Doc wouldn’t have been making money, nor would Doug, Vince, the road crew, the record company, anybody…so they all ignored Nikki’s condition and said he was fine. He was the Emperor and it was the Emperor’s new clothes.


JANUARY 19TH, 1987

Van Nuys, 8:30 p.m.

Some days I’m King Kong with a bass guitar. Today Mick wanted to modulate a guitar line, and I just yelled at him, Fuck you, that’s lame! Mick looked at me like I’d crapped in his amp but he never said anything…he never does. He’s too kind, unlike me. I make myself sick. I can be such a pompous asshole sometimes.

I feel shitty when I do stuff like that but I know I’m overcompensating because right now I’m the weak link in the studio. But I shouldn’t take it out on the band.

MICK MARS: Nikki and I have had a love-hate relationship ever since we met in a liquor store before we even formed Mötley Crüe. I went to buy some tequila and he asked me who I liked and I said, “Jeff Beck and Be Bop Deluxe,” and he said, “Fuck you, I like Aerosmith and Kiss.” So we hated each other from the start. But when he started taking heroin, it really pissed me off. The first time I ever saw him take it was when we were rehearsing the Theatre of Pain tour, and I was that angry that I called our management and told them. I told Nikki way back then not to mess with heroin, but he never listened to me. He never did.

JANUARY 21ST, 1987

Van Nuys, 11 a.m.

Vanity called last night and asked me to come over and play. I had nothing else to do so I figured, Why not? As soon as she opened the door, I could see from her eyes she hadn’t slept for days…she looked at me like a scared little cartoon character.

She started showing me some of her “art” as we freebased, then I noticed a huge bouquet of flowers in the corner of the room.

There must have been 24 dozen roses. I asked her who they were from and she wouldn’t say, so I read the card…


I am so pissed. She may be fucking insane, but she’s my girl! If I see that dwarf, I’ll kick his ass!

NIKKI: Vanity’s “art” was crazy shit. She would get these huge boards and spray-paint them white, then stick nuts and bolts all over them. There would be a little Santa Claus she called a “gift from God” and there was always a devil in there somewhere. She’d be telling me to talk to Jesus, but I didn’t feel we had much to say to each other.

As for the flowers, I found out from her sister that they weren’t from Prince! She’d sent them to herself to fuck with my head. Let’s give her credit: she always found plenty of ways to do that.

EVANGELIST DENISE MATTHEWS: I had more addictions than just cocaine. I have been sober now for thirteen years but the root of my problems went much deeper. There was the bitterness, envy, strife, hatred, emulations, judgmental thoughts, selfishness and the enslavement of fornication. There was the money, the fame, the fortune, the drugs and paraphernalia which naturally brought upon the demonic, the psychic and all of the witchcraft…not to mention the foul, perverted tongue and the bondage of idolatries. My iniquity was as a catastrophic snowball rolling down a ski slope collecting ugly. I definitely needed some saving.

DOC McGHEE: Nikki was into Vanity, but I think a lot of that was because she had come out of the whole thing of dating Prince. Rock stars are star-fuckers–Nikki might just as easily have grabbed Granny from The Beverly Hillbillies! Frankly, Vanity was not very attractive around that time. She was out of it an awful lot and she looked a real mess. Let’s just say that when you are strung out, personal hygiene is one of the first things to go.

JANUARY 24TH, 1987

Van Nuys, Midnight

We had a day off from the studio so Tommy came around. Heather is away, filming on location. So we chilled out and watched MTV, and I made myself wait 30 minutes before I told Tommy I had some dope. It’s not cool to look too eager.

Tommy asked me to shoot him up in the same place he always does…the rose tattoo in the crook of his arm, the spot that nobody can see. If Heather knew he was around here shooting smack with me, she would be gone. She’d be history.

I love Tommy–he’s the brother I never had. He loves me enough to come here and take a holiday in my hell…but then he goes. And I’m still here.

NIKKI: Tommy, my partner in crime and fellow Toxic Twin, would visit me on Valley Vista Boulevard every now and then. Sometimes we’d shoot up heroin, but Tommy was smarter than me: he never got hooked. He always said that heroin scared him because it was “just too good.” He had his little packages of syringes over at his and Heather Locklear’s mansion, but it was cocaine only.

TOMMY LEE: As soon as I took smack with Nikki, I realized how easily I could get addicted. I knew if I fucked with it big-time, it would either kill me or send me into a huge downward spiral of chasing some fucking fantasy. If I had taken it to a dark place, I just wouldn’t have got out: I knew how much I loved it, and how careful I had to be. I always did heroin with a little bit of fear, and I guess you don’t enjoy it as much if you’re fearful of it. Whenever I visited Nikki, I would hang with him and get fucked up for a day or two, then I’d tell myself, “OK, let’s get back to Heather–this is dark as fuck.”

2:55 a.m.

One could say that I’ve been having a 10cc love affair…my mistress is so seductive. She sneaks, she lies–in fact, she will lie dormant, if that’s what’s needed to seduce me from my lifetime commitment (my music). Some could say I’m married to my music. Others…fuck them…

Is this a crisis or a needed creative outlet?

There she goes again, whispering in my ear. Sometimes I think I hear her say I’m going to die.

JANUARY 26TH, 1987

Van Nuys, 4:10 a.m.

Bob Michaels just left. We hung out and got high but he really pisses me off. Bob will do coke and drink all night but gets all lame whenever I try to give him some junk. I suppose I understand why but it’s not like he’s clean living. Maybe I should just give him some china white to snort and tell him it’s coke. Fuck, he’s my friend, and I know how much he’d enjoy it!

BOB MICHAELS: I used to do loads of pot and coke with Nikki, but I’d never do heroin. I was terrified of needles. Most junkies don’t give a fuck what other people are doing as long as they can get their own drugs, but Nikki was different. He was always trying to get me to do a shot because it would be “awesome.” Once or twice I left my pipe out on the counter and, when I wasn’t looking, Nikki sprinkled heroin in it. I’d get a lot higher than I expected, and when I looked over at him he’d be laughing at me.

10:20 p.m.

I’m very impressed with myself, if I say so myself. I’m maintaining OK in the studio. It helps if I do a couple of lines of coke before I go in, then maybe a snort of dope so that I don’t feel too jumpy…the methadone of course…then a few trips to the bathroom while we’re rehearsing.

It’s hard, but I’m keeping an even keel until I get home in the evenings and all hell breaks loose. It’s when I come home that it’s hard…my secret room keeps talking to me. I’m not listening. I’m really trying.

TOMMY LEE: Nikki was coming to the studio nicely sedated. He can be quite the control freak, but when he was on heroin he was absolutely out of control so he couldn’t be in control. I just found him very lax, which isn’t his personality–Sixx is Sagittarius but he’s got the personality of a Taurus, a bull.

JANUARY 28TH, 1987

Van Nuys, 4 a.m.

Tonight, Diary, I’m going to try something different. Instead of writing to you after an evening of psychosis, I’m going to write to you while it’s happening. Maybe someday somebody can read this and understand what Hell is.

So here I sit. The curtains are drawn, the candles are lit, and it’s just me and you. My guitar’s on my lap, my diary’s on the table, and I’m ready. Let’s see what happens.

I just did it.

My head is exploding. I…

I feel like throwing up.

Now I know, what I hear isn’t there. There is someone…it’s….

4:40 a.m.

I need to get on paper what just happened. I was convinced 30 minutes ago that there were people outside my house. There is NOBODY outside the house…what the fuck is wrong with me?

I can’t stop, but I want to still do it. I NEED THIS. I can’t stop. I don’t know how to stop thinking about it. I want to get high and I don’t want to go insane.

I know it’s fake, I know it’s fake. I know it’s not real. It’s just the drugs…

Sometimes when I sit here alone surrounded by only candles, the shadows dancing on the walls feel like my only friends. I’m listening to Tommy Bolin, trying to think of a reason to pick up my guitar…I wonder if this is how he felt, right before he died? This isn’t how I thought life would turn out.

I can’t seem to read anything lately…music seems abrasive. The scabs on my arms are festering with infection. I can’t breathe from all the blow and I can’t seem to get drunk anymore. I’m at the edge. I feel like I’m standing at death’s door and no one will let me in.

Why can’t I do the drugs like everybody else? Everybody else does the drugs and they’re OK. I do the drugs and things happen to me that I can’t explain. I’m trying to put it on paper, but I can’t…I can only describe it and you must think I’m insane but I’m not. I’m sitting here right now sane, as sane as the next guy…it’s just the drugs. It’s not me.

I remember back in Idaho, going fishing and hunting as a kid. I remember discovering Deep Purple on my cheap lil AM/FM radio, my first crushes and those warm summer nights in the park. I wanna go back to those times of innocence. I’ve forgotten who I was.

Please, God, make it stop.

BOB TIMMONS: Cocaine gave Nikki acute paranoia and hallucinations. One night he called me and asked me to get the police over to his house right away because there were little men with helmets and guns in the trees surrounding his house. It took me quite a while to talk him down from that one.


Chinese highs, pearly white down the mainline So sad Susie has the blues up in Soho Says it’s cold as ice deep down in her arm White horse screams unpleasant dreams and pain Blind lead the blind like the German faith Riding high thru the graveyard of the night

JANUARY 29TH, 1987

Van Nuys, 7:30 p.m.

I’ve been up to no good again, diary, but it’s given me a killer idea for a song.

Becky came around again yesterday, during her school lunch break. As she was getting dressed again afterwards, putting that Catholic school uniform back on, I asked her about the Lord’s Prayer…is it important? She looked at me wide-eyed and said, Sure, it’s real important…so I got her to recite it for me, and I scribbled a few notes down. Then I dropped her back at school on my Harley.

The nuns all looked horrified when they saw me, like they were going to have a heart attack. They will too if they hear the song I’m writing.

NIKKI: Becky was a local schoolgirl who used to get very friendly with me on her lunch breaks. She had a real famous mom who would freak if she knew what her daughter was doing back then–so you know what? I’m not gonna tell you who she was…


JANUARY 30TH, 1987

Van Nuys, midnight

Today has turned to night. I’ve laid around all day, naked, playing guitar–writing, writing–this lovely lil love song called Wild Side. I think it’s an ode to Lou.

Kneel down ye sinners to Streetwise religion Greed’s been crowned the new King Hollywood dream teens Yesterday’s trash queens Save the blessings for the final ring


Wild side

I carry my crucifix Under my death list Forward my mail to me in hell Liars and the martyrs Lost faith in the Father Long lost in the wishing well

Wild side

Fallen Angels So fast to kill Thy kingdom come on the wild side Our Father Who ain’t in heaven Be thy name on the wild side Holy Mary Mother may I Pray for us on the wild side Wild side Wild side

Name dropping no-names Glamorize cocaine Puppets with strings of gold East LA at midnight Papa won’t be home tonight Found dead with his best friend’s wife

Wild side

Fatal strikes We lie on the wild side No escape Murder rape Doing time on the wild side A baby cries A cop dies A day’s pay on the wild side Wild side Wild side Tragic life on the wild side Wild side Wild side Kickin’ ass on the wild side

Ah, lyrics to kill your career by…chew on that, MTV!

JANUARY 31ST, 1987

Van Nuys, 11:30 p.m.

I weigh 164 lbs…40 lbs less than a year ago.

Last night I went to Vanity’s and when I left this morning I stole one of her leather jackets. I’m so fuckin’ thin I can wear her clothes…and some are actually baggy…

Doc came around today while Jason was here and kicked him out of the house. Fucking asshole–he may be our manager but he can’t tell me what to do in my house. Even if what I want to do is kill myself.

DOC McGHEE: Nikki looked fucking awful when he became a junkie. He sank into himself, lost all his weight, and just hung around his heroin den house looking horrible. I went around there once when his dealer was there, and I told the pasty piece of shit, “If you ever see Nikki Sixx again, or I hear you’ve brought him even one bit of heroin, I will have you killed.” I would have done it too. Nikki was all junked out and the dealer guy was just fucking vermin.