DOES MY ILLNESS HANG DFE DF ME LIKE A FUCKING SMELL?
APRIL 1ST, 1987
Van Nuys, 6:40 p.m.
I just had a surprise visitor. It was the last thing I expected. Randy Rand turned up at my door out of the blue…I hadn’t seen him in months. When I opened the door his jaw literally fell open in shock, like he had seen a ghost. He told me that I’d lost 50 lbs since he’d last seen me. I’m pleased about this, but Randy didn’t seem to see it as a good thing. Then when I invited him in, he shook his head and said he had to go…does my illness hang off me like a fucking smell?
I’m waiting for T-Bone to come over.
NIKKI: Randy Rand was in the band Autograph, who had supported us for a few dates on the Theatre of Pain tour. I once stole his bass head from a rehearsal room in Hollywood because it sounded better than mine. He is a great guy…he never did bust my chops about it, still to this day…
APRIL 2ND, 1987
Van Nuys, midnight
I went fishing today with Tommy and Duane Baron. We did coke all night until it was time to leave for the lake. We sailed out then came back in for more beers when Doc McGhee came to meet us. We were out on the lake playing the mastered Girls album over and over on Tommy’s little blaster.
Doc told us that Jon Bon Jovi thinks we’ve written the greatest song of our career. I asked him which one and he said You’re All I Need. I asked if Jon had ever listened to the lyrics and Doc said, Why, what’s it about? I snickered and told him, and Doc told me that I’m an asshole and a sick fuck…fair comment, I guess.
NIKKI: Tommy and I were so high on coke that night that in our minds the tent was flying like a magic carpet ride. We actually believed we were flying through the air around the lake in the tent. I remember Tommy telling me to stare at him and not move. With my hair all in tangles and the shadows from the lantern dancing across my face he kept imagining I looked like this wicked witch. He was getting so into it, I remember at one point thinking, OK, who’s more insane here? Me for sitting here for hours motionless, or Tommy for having me sit here so he can hallucinate? I don’t think we caught any fish on that trip but we sure had one hell of a magic carpet ride…
TOMMY LEE: Here’s a “There Goes the Neighborhood” memory! Readers, picture this–a packed family campground with kids, bikes, fishing poles, water skis, campfires, etc. Then, just when you think it’s safe…here comes the badass black super-stretch limo from hell! It’s not something you normally see at any campground you go to, but then again you never went camping with me and Nikki! I know you are thinking: God, these dudes are so spoiled and that the limo is there to take them home right?? NOT! The cocaine has been delivered by limousine! Imagine us crawling out of our dark tent into the daylight to pick up more blow–not a good look! That poor limo driver ended up making a few more round trips up there to keep our magic carpet ride afloat.
APRIL 4TH, 1987
Van Nuys, 2:20 a.m.
I think things are looking up. Pete and me have now got porn stars doing our drug runs for us…Lois came over earlier. She’s an interesting character. She came in and we had a few beers and then she said she wanted to show us her new video…we said sure. So she walks over with the VHS tape, sticks it in the machine and voila! It was eight black guys coming all over her face. Even I was shocked, but Lois is proud of it…says she thinks it’s some kind of world record…
More importantly Lois has agreed to go down to Watts for us to score some loads. Let’s just say it’s not the best place for a tattooed white kid to go to score. But after seeing her video, maybe Lois has a special relationship with the dealer down there. Hey, practice makes perfect…
These pills are my new fave drug. I love them. You can’t even fucking move on them, completely comatose! They’re like heroin on steroids. I can’t wait…
NIKKI: Loads were a combo of two different kinds of pills. You took three of one kind and two of the other and literally in ten minutes you were so high you couldn’t even stand up. We had a very scientific approach to mixing it with blow to somehow even out the effect enough to at least somehow function. When I was a teenager, we used to take elephant tranquilizers. The effects were similar.
After Lois got back with the loads last night, things got kind of…warped…
When she came back she had some other girl with her. I recognized her from some porn movies Pete had. I don’t remember what her name was…did I even know it? but she left a few minutes ago. Anyway, after I took a second dose, and not enough cocaine to bring me out of my stupor, this girl decided she was going to spend the night with me…who was I to argue?
The only problem we had was that my dick didn’t seem to be aware that she was there. She kept asking me what was wrong, and I was so out of it that I thought she meant what was wrong with the world, so I started talking about global poverty and shit. I’m not surprised she left…I suspect she won’t be coming back.
APRIL 5TH, 1987
Van Nuys, 1:45 a.m.
Went to a bookstore today and bought some cool books on performance art. Also got a book my grandmother sent me to read when I was 17, called Autobiography of a Yogi.
APRIL 6TH, 1987
Van Nuys, 2:40 a.m.
Today I was thinking about coming back from Tommy’s wedding last year and finding that letter from Chuck Shapiro telling me that I would go bankrupt if I carried on getting wasted at the rate that I was…fuck, that I still AM. The funny thing is, even if I was broke, and kicked out of the band, and all I had was a room like this closet, and enough gear to stay under the warm blanket…forget Mötley and the fans, forget the music even. I think I could be happy…I think.
NIKKI: Chuck Shapiro was the band’s accountant. On the day in ’86 that Nicole and I got back from Tommy’s wedding, Chuck left me a hand-delivered note. It read,
This was quite a chastening note, so obviously I did the only thing that I could in the circumstances. I ignored it completely.
Steven Tyler told me once he didn’t think he would ever be off heroin. At this point in my life, I remember thinking the same thing. The feeling of completely giving into your demons is hopeless, but when you can’t climb your way out of such a hole, you tend to crouch down and call it home.
APRIL 7TH, 1987
Van Nuys, 2:30 a.m.
Jason is coming over with some real pure china white rather than the usual Persian…Persian is OK but you have that whole routine with lemons and the extra cotton. China cooks up clean and dissolves so much easier, and when I put it in a syringe with some coke…man, that’s the fast track to heaven.
The thing about china is it looks like coke and you can snort it easy. Sure, you can snort Persian, but it kinda stinks like dirt and it’s a dead giveaway snorting anything brown. So nobody knows you’re snorting heroin. They assume it’s something harmless (Ha!) like coke.
I hope he doesn’t bring his damn girlfriend. She sometimes will be talking as I nod off and when I come to she’s still talking. It’s usually about her so I can jump in right where I was before…not caring.
NIKKI: There were such different levels of addiction during this year. Sometimes I felt I had it under control and I was just having fun. Unfortunately the fun never lasted. If you’re gonna play with the dragon, you’re eventually gonna get burned.
BOB MICHAELS: Sometimes Nikki would take heroin really openly around me and ask me to take it with him. At other times he was real sneaky. He would go to the bathroom, shoot up, puke, then walk back out and sit by me to watch a movie. The whole thing would take ninety seconds and I would have no idea he had done it. Nikki was a very good actor.
APRIL 8TH, 1987
Van Nuys, 11 p.m.
So here I sit. Alone again. Needle in my arm. Playing the fucking victim yet again–or is it the martyr?
As much as I love my band, I also hate them, because they are with people that love them. I don’t understand why, as big as my heart is, I’m alone.
Maybe I just choose to be this way?
Maybe I don’t have a choice?
Maybe I don’t know?
Maybe I’m just asking myself questions to hear myself talk?
APRIL 9TH, 1987
How could my parents treat me the way they did?
How could my father just vanish, and not care about the son that he brought onto the Earth?
How could my mother love me, or say she loves me, then send me away for months and years at a time every time she got herself some new fucking boyfriend?
I don’t have a mother…I don’t have a father…I don’t have a friend. And they made me the way I am. They made me like this.
BOB TIMMONS: In my opinion, Nikki Sixx was suffering from depression during the time of his addiction. There was a lot of sadness: he told me many times that he felt people wanted to be around him only because he was famous, not because of who he was. Addictions are just symptoms of underlying issues, and in my view Nikki self-medicated the emotional pain of his childhood, and being away from his mother a lot, through drug use. What did he want? Ultimately he wanted to be able to create love for himself as a person.
THE TROUBLE WITH ASKING QUESTIONS IS YOU
SOMETIMES GET ANSWERS YOU DON’T WANNA HEAR.
Jesus, it’s such a hassle to go out nowadays. I can’t walk down the street or go to the store without being surrounded by fans, wanting to talk, or wanting my autograph, or to come home with me. I mean, I love our fans, but fuck…
I’m gonna go back to the bookstore ’cause I think I might have depression. Maybe something there can help me? I can’t control my moods. I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams…even when I’m not on drugs. If only they knew.
It seems I’m always falling apart, always falling apart at the seams…
APRIL 10TH, 1987
Van Nuys, 5 a.m.
I pushed the panic button again tonight. It wasn’t my fault. Every time I dared to peer out of my closet, I could see faces at the window and I heard voices at the door. It’s probably 50 feet from the closet to the security box but it took me an hour of shaking to run there. I felt like I had to run the length of a football field.
Then when West Tech arrived I wouldn’t let them in…I just kept shouting at them through the door to get away from my fucking house or I would shoot them. Eventually they went away. Thank God I had a little junk to bring me down.
DOUG THALER: It was about this time that I called Nikki at home one day. He could never wait to get off the phone, and on this particular occasion, he told me after about a minute, “Well, I’ve got to go now.” I asked him why, and he said, “Doug, there are Mexicans carrying guns climbing over my fence.”
Doc McGhee just phoned. He says he had a call from West Tech security about last night. Their guy claimed that when he showed up here I was naked and waving a shotgun at him, and accusing him of bugging my house. Seems they’re worried about their “personal safety” and threatening to cancel our contract. Luckily Doc talked them down and smoothed things over.
That’s what a good manager is for, right?
DOC McGHEE: Nikki was always seeing Mexicans and midgets running around his fucking house. His blow paranoia was totally out of control. I would get calls from West Tech saying he had set all his alarms off and was in the house refusing to answer the door. Or the police department would call me because Nikki’s neighbor had phoned them to report that Nikki was crawling around in his garden in the middle of the night with a shotgun. It would be bad enough if it happened once, but this shit was going on at least twice a week.
APRIL 12TH, 1987
Van Nuys, 3:15 a.m.
Went around strip bars with T-Bone and Wayne to scout out locations for the Girls Girls Girls video. I think this one is gonna be good. Wayne gets where we come from…it’s just a shame that the bastard steals our ideas for Bon fucking Jovi…
WAYNE ISHAM: I shot a lot of videos with Mötley but I first met them way before I was a director, when I was stage manager at the A&M soundstage in LA. They came in to film the “Shout at the Devil” video. I had a little office next to the dressing room, and could hear them complaining to each other that they needed a drink before they started shooting. I told them I had some Jack, and they all came stomping into my office with their huge hair and platform boots and drank it all.
My first Mötley video was “Smokin’ in the Boys’ Room” right at the start of my career. I met Nikki and Tommy and talked through the shoot the night before, then they said, “OK dude, let’s go out!” I was saying, “No, no, we have to work tomorrow,” and Nikki said, “Are you some sort of pussy?” They had this real, um, enthusiasm for life.
We all partied so hard back then, drank so hard and did so much blow, I guess we felt indestructible. Nikki never seemed worse than anyone else, although when we made the “Home Sweet Home” video there were a couple of times he had to be carried on and off the set for his close-ups. That was the first time I thought, Are you rocking this, or is it rocking you?
Nikki was a real Jekyll and Hyde character. One minute he would be coherent, friendly and articulate, the next he’d be out of it and a real sardonic wiseass and insulting motherfucker. He had this positive energy, then he’d just turn the page and be a real asshole–and there was a real meanness in the way he chastised me.
Nikki hated Bon Jovi, and he was always busting my balls and calling me a traitor for working with Jon. He accused me of selling out by making Bon Jovi videos and told me I was ripping off Mötley’s style–well, pardon me, but I thought that was a universal style, not just Mötley’s! He’d always be in my face, saying “Fuck you,” and one day he grabbed me and sucker-punched me real hard. You kind of got used to it.
NIKKI: I always dug Jon–I just hated his band’s music. It was the opposite of everything I loved and believed in. I would bust his band’s chops in the press then we would sit down over dinner and he’d say, “Thanks” and we’d both laugh. I think he liked to be around a true rock ’n’ roll asshole who didn’t give a fuck about anything.
When they first got signed to Doc and we were both in Europe, Jon and I went to a brothel together in Germany. We were in this room with two twin beds and we each had a girl. We were both drunk off our asses and I looked up above my head and there was this Mick Jagger poster and the same one above Jon’s bed.
The girls were doing their job but Jon wouldn’t stop telling jokes in his New Jersey accent and I couldn’t get it up. Finally I said, “Bro, can you stop talking?” He said OK and kept on rambling. To say I didn’t get my money’s worth would be an understatement unless I was paying Jon Bon Jovi to tell me jokes, in which case I got a pretty good deal.
APRIL 13TH, 1987
Van Nuys, 4:20 a.m.
Shot the video for Girls tonight. We had a blast. I even brought me a little souvenir home…dunno what her name is. Did me good to get out tonight.
WAYNE ISHAM: When Mötley told me the concept behind “Girls Girls Girls” was strip clubs, I naturally did some meticulous multiple-night research to discover which establishment was the most appropriate. We wanted to use the Body Shop but that was all-nude and didn’t serve alcohol, so we ended up with a place called the Seventh Veil. Nikki and Tommy came with me one night–I remember us heading from club to club with a load of strippers in tow.
We were in the same mind-set on the video–we just all kept saying to each other, “Can you believe they are paying us for doing this? We should be paying them!” This was the heart of Mötley–they were fun guys, and I don’t think the video was exploiting women. It was more a celebration of them, like a burlesque thing. But we got censored a lot by MTV because it was seen as scandalous back then.
By the time we finished filming in the Seventh Veil, none of us were functioning properly. We left the club in a few cars to go to my studio nearby to film inserts. Tommy was in my car with me, and I suggested we should stop off at a Mexican restaurant on the way for a couple of secret shooters. When we got in there, Sixx was already in the bar, doing a line of shooters. He just looked at us and said, “What are you guys doing here?”
When I look at the video now, Nikki’s eyes have that droop…there’s a real buzz going on. Look at the part where he gives the camera the finger…I think it’s fair to say that he is coasting there. But I can’t claim I noticed at the time. It’s like Hillel Slovak from the Chili Peppers–he was a fun guy, and the first time I noticed that something was at all wrong was when he went and died.
APRIL 16TH, 1987
Van Nuys, noon
I’m sorry I haven’t written for a few days but things have been kind of crazy. You know how it can go sometimes.
Vanity showed up unannounced a few days ago. It’s so fucked with her…I don’t see her for weeks, then suddenly she appears and we don’t leave each other’s side for…how long was it this time? Four days? Five? It can’t be healthy…but then I guess me and Vanity have never exactly been healthy.
So she turned up with this huge baggy of coke, just like she always does, and we’ve been living in a blizzard for the last couple of days. But somehow I never go quite as insane when Vanity is with me. Maybe I hate her too much to let her ever see me at my most wasted and vulnerable.
I never shoot dope or go to my closet with Vanity but it still gets fucking crazy. Yesterday we were lying on the bed and I could hear voices…people moving about the house. I started shouting, then fired my .357 through the door at them. Of course there was nobody there. It was the radio, and I shot a hollow point clean through my new speakers I bought off Bob Michaels…fuck.
She just left and as she went she said the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard. She said we were soul mates and asked me to marry her…I don’t know how I kept a straight face, so I said something equally stupid…I said yes. I couldn’t face her going crazy and starting another argument, and what does it matter what I say? My funeral will come before the wedding.
BOB MICHAELS: Nikki called me one night when he’d shot a bullet through his bedroom door and into a JBL speaker he had bought from me. He was hallucinating that people were trying to break in and the police were there, and he and Vanity had barricaded themselves in the master bedroom in the middle of the night. He called me again the next day and they were still barricaded in there.
EVANGELIST DENISE MATTHEWS: My help could only come from God. None of my relationships, including with Nikki, were capable of finding any kind of love or happiness because I would never look at the root of my problem, which undoubtedly was me. I was very messed up and it was time to change or die.
We paint the outside of our bodies beautiful but the inside is like dead men’s bones. The hurt topples on top of itself until our hurt gets so big and ugly, growing like a cancer worm, webbing around the walls of our heart, which ultimately turns cold and callous and dull of love. We mistake lust for love and pop more pills, slam more drugs, drink ourselves silly or end us, as I did, scraping the inside of a pipe just to hit the resin and flush life down a toilet.
Personally, I hated every second of being alive in this collapsible body. I wanted a new body inside. I wanted to remove my mind altogether–especially the part that hurt. Jesus did that for me.
LOST LYRIC VAMPERILLA
Can’t say I’m happy Can’t say I’m sad But I can sigh in relief That I don’t have that Black-skinned bitch Drawing her nails across my grief
Just do me a favor Before you draw the razor Next time across your wrists Tell me again I’m your white boy flavor And how we will live in bliss A little hidden sanctuary Only seen in this Hollywood tabloid hell Living in loyal matrimony I guess didn’t mean loyal to me Oh well
Vamperilla Now you might as well go fuck yourselves Everybody else has for sure
I guess you had to lose So the rest of us could win Your only fame and fortune has left you And he’s holding this paper and pen.
APRIL 17TH, 1987
Van Nuys, 6:50 p.m.
Slash came over earlier…I haven’t told him this, but last year Tom Zutaut asked me if I would produce the Guns album. I just turned him down flat. I was way too strung out to take it on. It was all I could do then to focus on Mötley and staying alive…
It’s a good thing that I didn’t do it. I know I could produce a great album for them but not while I’m on drugs…I’m too fucked up even for those guys.
NIKKI: Tom Zutaut had told me I was being considered to produce Appetite for Destruction for Guns N’ Roses. I went to see them play at the Roxy, but I didn’t think they were all that great. The truth is that I was so out of it that I had no idea who was any good and who wasn’t. Fuck, at the time the most I would have been able to do as producer would have been pressing PLAY on the tape machine.
TOM ZUTAUT: I was like a dog with a bone trying to get Nikki to produce Guns because I thought they were the next-generation Mötley, but more rooted in the Sex Pistols and Zeppelin than Mötley’s New York Dolls-meets-Kiss. In the same way that Nikki understood the role of each of the members of Mötley, I thought he might be able to do the same for Slash, Axl, Izzy, Duff and Steven. I hoped G N’ R might learn something from Nikki since he had crawled from the bottom of the dirtiest street in Hollywood (which was also their birthing place) to the top. But Nikki was in his strung out narcissistic asshole days and he kept blowing me off and not even watching the video of G N’ R that I had sent him.
Do I think he would have done a good job of producing the album? Given the state he was in, probably not.
SLASH: That’s funny…I never knew about any of this. It is true that Zutaut was desperate to find somebody to produce Appetite for Destruction who would be able to deal with us. I remember that Paul Stanley from Kiss came down at one point, but we were way too much for him.
APRIL 19TH, 1987
Van Nuys, 4:50 p.m.
I realized something yesterday that when I’m high on coke, only to come down and realize again that I was on the fringes of psychosis, I’m starting to feel a friendship with those voices. I actually look forward to hearing them as I’m tying off. Ah yes, my friends the demons…
I need to get out. I’ve arranged to meet Andy McCoy at a club tonight.
APRIL 20TH, 1987
Van Nuys, 4 a.m.
Well that was a fucking disaster of a night.
I met Andy at the club and he was with a lot of other people. I felt uncomfortable and awkward from the start so after about half an hour I was saying to Andy, come on let’s go, let’s get out of here. Everybody around him was freaking out because Andy is clean now and they know I’m not, and he’s always on the verge of getting strung out again. But I didn’t care about that, or about anything…I just wanted to get back here.
I brought Andy home and showed him my closet. I got all my shit out and said, Come on, let’s get high. He just stood there in all his gypsy clothes, and told me, You’ve got a habit! You’re strung out. I tried to say it wasn’t much but this dude has seen me die once, he knows the truth. Then he left.
One by one my friends are abandoning me.
APRIL 21ST, 1987
Van Nuys, 9:30 p.m.
Pete just called to see what I was doing…What does he think I’m going to be doing? The usual…walking around this mausoleum, waiting for Jason, thinking about shooting up, hating the security box, going quietly insane…
Pete was calling from a strip club. He’s going to come over with some girls. It might be nice to make a few new friends. I just called Slash and Steven as well.
APRIL 22ND, 1987
Van Nuys, 1 p.m.
I woke up this morning and the house is littered with bottles and empty bindles and cigarette ashes…it’s a disaster zone. There are people lying around, some naked, some partially naked…I walked into the bathroom to find Steven Adler fucking that girl we like to call Slave…and Slash pissed in the spare bed in his sleep. It’s at times like this that I wish all these people would go away…
There must be something wrong in my blood sugar or my chemical DNA, because I can go from being completely the happiest guy in the world to being the most pissed off, angry motherfucker in no time at all. Last night I could think of nothing I would rather do than this. Now I hate it…
I hate it…
I hate it.
SLASH: Man, I remember that party…there was so much blow and whisky. I fucked a lot of girls, and the next morning I woke up in Nikki’s spare bedroom with some chicks. I was hungover, my shit was strewn all over the place, and I had to be in the recording studio in twenty minutes. Fuck knows how I got there, but I did.
I can’t deny it–I used to get so drunk that I wet the bed. Nikki’s place wasn’t the worst time. I remember once waking up in a hotel lobby in Canada. I was lying on a couch and I’d pissed myself. Then I found that not only was it not the hotel I was staying in but I had no idea where my hotel was or what it was called. I had to walk around in the freezing cold for hours. The wet pants didn’t help.
APRIL 24TH, 1987
Van Nuys, 1:40 a.m.
I feel like a rat on a wheel. At first I embraced this, then I wanted to get off, but it’s like somebody is turning it faster and faster. I fall and it throws me around and I just can’t stop…
We have some time off, so what are we doing? Vince is cruising around the Caribbean and singing guest spots with Bon Jovi. Tommy is playing golf and riding his dirt bike. Mick is content to buy guns and hope for World War III…and Sixx? I’m losing my mind trapped in this tomb…
APRIL 25TH, 1987
Van Nuys, 10:10 a.m.
This is how low it gets…at 3 this morning I was crouched naked in my closet thinking the world was about to burst through my door. I peered out the closet and saw myself in my mirror. I looked like an Auschwitz victim…a wild animal.
I was hunched trying to find a vein so I could inject into my dick. Then the dope went in my dick and I thought I looked fucking fantastic. I can’t keep doing this, but I can’t stop.
26 and I’ve never even lived I’ve been too busy slow-dancing with death Maybe a bullet to my head will make somebody love me Maybe a bullet in my head would make somebody care.
APRIL 27TH, 1987
Van Nuys, 10:30 p.m.
I sat behind my bed last night with my grandfather’s double-barreled shotgun. I had it aimed at the door, and I knew people were coming in. I can’t bear all these windows being open to the street so everybody can see in. Today I called a shutter company and tomorrow they are coming to fit heavy wooden shutters on every window.
I’m thinking about going to rehab, but I have too much to do right now.
APRIL 28TH, 1987
Van Nuys, 11:40 a.m.
This morning I woke up with my shotgun in bed with me. The girls have stopped coming around, and now I’m sleeping with a gun. Then I remembered putting the gun in my mouth last night and considering pulling the trigger just to stop the insanity…I want to shut my head down and make it stop.
Somehow I’ve gone from a person who laughs at people considering suicide to a person who is considering suicide himself…some fucking progress…
The new shutters are fucking cool.
BRYN BRIDENTHAL: I was Mötley Crüe’s PR for many years–I first met them the day they signed their record contract with Elektra. I could see immediately that there was a special light on in Nikki’s eyes. He knew where they were going: he had the whole idea, every album fleshed out in his head. Tommy was just a big cocker spaniel, Mick was real quiet and as for Vince…well, let’s just say that Nikki Sixx was the brains of Mötley Crüe. I’m sure he still is.
One of the early things Nikki used to do was set himself on fire during interviews. I remember he did it in Mötley’s first ever TV appearance. I was always terrified the flames would ignite his hair spray and he’d totally go up, but Nikki never seemed bothered by that: he thought he was invincible.
Nikki was a brat and he was very smart, but he had a great big hole inside. Money didn’t fill it, nor did success or power: what he really wanted was respect for his songwriting. But I spent so much time with him, and I had no idea he was doing all the dark stuff he was. When he was bad, he was very, very bad, but I never thought he was doing any more drugs than everybody else was back then.
At the time, I didn’t know much about junkies. Since then I’ve worked with Nirvana and Courtney Love, so I’m rather better informed. But the ’80s were the days that I’d regularly go into a record label executive’s office and find white powder all over his desk. Heroin seemed like just one more temptation–no better and no worse than the others.
Nikki Sixx never struck me as dysfunctional. He had so much drive and energy and certainly wasn’t drooling or living in the gutter. He hid everything so well: he can dance fast, that one. I guess junkies can just be so cunning.
APRIL 29TH, 1987
Van Nuys, midnight
For reasons unknown to me I believe I am not meant to live much longer. I am dying a slow, unhappy death shrouded in confusion and questions. I am confused as to how I have become the drugs and the drugs have become me…we live together in complete harmony.
What was once a question, an inquisitive interest, a curiosity even, has finally answered itself. It’s a death wish I cannot will away. I cannot or will not escape this prison until I have completed this journey. It ends as it began, with me alone. Like birth, death is a solitary experience.
Like Hemingway said, the only thing that could spoil a day was people. I am the person who has spoiled my life…
I have lost all track of time in here.
APRIL 30TH, 1987
Van Nuys, 5:10 a.m.
When Jason left last night and closed the door, I had the feeling he was closing the door on a crypt. It’s so fucking dark in here…I feel like a ghost. So I got a hammer and ran around the house tearing the shutters from the windows and throwing them into the yard…they were making me feel like I was in a cage.
I’m not doing any drugs when I wake up today.