Backstage, 7:55 p.m.

Just got a massage. My body is torn up, my hands are cut up and bruised, all part of trying to break your bass at every turn of a chorus. I have my bass strings so high so I don’t fret them out. Mick says playing my bass is like playing a telephone pole with high-tension live wires on.

On that note–time to crack the whisky and go make a mess of the youth of Richmond’s minds.


Hotel, Roanoke, Virginia, 2:30 p.m.

Flew in after the Richmond show last night. I wanted to raise some hell but it was too late and there’s nothing to do in Roanoke. I called Fred but he said everybody had gone to bed. He told me to come down to his room for an Ace in the Hole. He chopped out a couple lines for me and we were hanging out listening to Merle Haggard but I guess I was just too fucking tired to keep going. I came down to my room to look in the phone book for hookers…and I just woke up. I still had my clothes on…even coke isn’t working lately.

Amazing what sleep does for you. I just put on Diamond Dogs by David Bowie, one of the greatest albums ever recorded.

Gonna order breakfast…bye.


Hotel, 5 p.m.

We had the last couple days off. It’s been very uneventful so I haven’t written. I’ve been sleeping a lot…weird. We’re taking a chopper into the gig in an hour–big show. Sold out. I don’t know who’s playing with us. I guess it doesn’t matter ’cause everybody is there to see us anyway.

P.S. Mick is like a fucking puppet to this bitch. Why does he always let these chicks lead him around by the nose? And if she mentions God one more time I’m gonna stab her in the face with her crucifix.

DOC McGHEE: Mick was the closest thing to being a punching bag in Mötley Crüe. He was the easiest to pick on because he was the quietest and he never fought back. Mick’s just a really good kid who wants to be happy and he’s never been happy. When Nikki and Tommy got loaded they were pretty mean, gnarly guys and as soon as Mick and Emi got together they just fucking beat at them nonstop. You know what sums their relationship up? The time that Tommy was running naked down the hallways of a hotel in Ohio and the police arrived, went to the room next door and arrested Mick for it.



Hotel, 4 p.m.

Touring with the same band for support gets so boring after a while. I guess if it was a band I really loved and not fucking Whitesnake, it wouldn’t be so bad. This is actually worse than when we toured with Iron Maiden…I remember being backstage listening to them and thinking all their songs sounded like the theme from Bonanza, with the gallop and all. I really can’t wait for Slash and the guys to come out.

My fave support so far was Cheap Trick. I am and always will be the hugest Cheap Trick fan…and they are the greatest guys ever. We’ve got a show tonight…maybe I’ll go late so I don’t have to hear Whitesnake. The sad part is, I love Rudy Sarzo to death–maybe he should play in Mötley and I should go to the nuthouse.

RICK NIELSEN: Mötley Crüe and Cheap Trick toured together in Europe and America. We used to be real bad together. The guys in Cheap Trick were never heroin addicts but we’d drink and party hard. I would see Nikki stumbling around sometimes, but I didn’t know exactly what was causing it. I knew when drink was involved, though, because I was normally there drinking it with him.


Hotel, 3 p.m.

Another show tonight but I’m ready to go home and make music. I’m over drugs and I know they’re over me.

I woke up at 9 a.m. for some odd reason. I am playing Sweet’s Desolation Boulevard nonstop…great songwriting. They were always sold to the world as a pop band but like the Raspberries they were a metal band at heart. We could all learn a lot about hooks from those guys.

I’m on a mission to take the band to a new level musically. I think we’ve just scratched the surface. Me and Tommy are having a lot of talks about what’s next…I’m excited. I want a Number 1 album that knocks the world on its ear.


Hotel, 5 p.m.

I wrote a cool song today. All I have to do is listen to Whitesnake to know what NOT to do.

We fly back home to LA after the show tonight. Thank fuck…But what will happen? I have changed my phone number at home and have had a 10 foot security gate and fence installed around the house while I’ve been away. I’m determined…

I’m a digital anti-Christ analog poltergeist Like a cannibal watch me beat my meat Shoot my gun right between the sheets

Like a criminal I’m on the take I rattle nerves like a rattlesnake Anti-trust public enemy Steal your fruit and I shake your tree You just love to hate me

All the preachers say All the teachers say All the speeches say I’m so whoreable


Van Nuys, 11 a.m.

It’s great to sleep in my own bed again. To say I’ve decked out my pad is an understatement. Ralph Lauren, crushed velvet comforters, burled walnut antiques, gargoyles, Persian carpets…everything from the 1800s. God, I love this place, except for the memories…but maybe they can fade.

The gate and fence around the house looks so medieval…I love it. Jon Roberts really set me up nicely.

I just called the office to get my new phone number and spoke to Karen Dumont. I told her Vanity had really trashed my house while I was gone, she didn’t clean up after herself at all. Karen told me she was looking for a place and would be interested in housesitting when I’m back on tour. I told her I would think about it, but between me and you, she would be doing me a favor. I’m always worried about some crazies breaking into my house while I’m gone.

5 p.m.

Just got off the phone with Robbin. He’s coming over to pick me up in his new Ferrari and we’re gonna catch a movie. I drove my Harley today. The battery was dead so I jumped it down Valley Vista and headed up and down Ventura Boulevard. Went to an antique store and bought an insane antique silverwear set in a walnut case. Wow…they just don’t make things like they used to.

KAREN DUMONT: I used to work in PolyGram’s New York office and moved to the LA bureau in 1986. When I moved to Los Angeles I was told not to even talk to Mötley Crüe, because they were trouble. But they’d sometimes drop by the office, Nikki more than the rest of the band, and eventually we became friends.

Nikki asked me to stay in his house during the Girls tour because he was going out with Vanity and he was afraid she wasn’t taking very good care of his place. He asked me if I would go over and stay there, to keep an eye on the place and on her. Vanity was very unreliable and a lot of people hated her, but actually I thought she was OK.


Van Nuys, 3 p.m.

What’s the point of having a fence around your mansion if people just wait outside and ring the intercom till you answer?

How do people know I’m home?

I can’t believe Jason kept ringing and ringing until I finally answered the phone. He said he saw me on Ventura on my bike yesterday and wanted to say hi, but I had changed my number. I told him I was in the shower and I would call him back…

Ya, right.



Van Nuys, 2 p.m.

I can’t fucking believe it. You will never believe this one. I came home from the store today and walked into the house and Vanity jumped from outta nowhere. She scared the fuck out of me. Her eyes were popping outta her head. She was screaming, If you hate me so much, hit me! She was trying to scratch my eyes and face. I kept backing up until I was in a corner.

As she said for the 100th time, Hit me, hit me, hit me if you hate me, I knocked her out cold.

She hit the wood floor with a thump. I dragged her by her hair to the front door, opened it and pulled her onto the front steps. I looked down the driveway and there was a limo parked at the end. The driver got out and said, Is everything OK? I said, Is this trash yours? He said yes and I said, Then get it off my property. I pushed the button to open the gate and kicked her down the front steps…

Fucking psycho bitch! I just got off the phone to the cops and told them she broke into my house and was trying to gouge out my eyes so I had to defend myself. They’re on their way over now. I’m gonna file a report and get a restraining order.



5:40 p.m.

I had torn up Jason’s number but now the fucker has left it in my mailbox–I feel like they’re all out to get me.

10 p.m.

Sitting here alone listening to music. I’m still shaken from the Vanity shit.

Guess I’ll take my bike out for a spin…I wonder what the guys are doing.

TOMMY LEE: I used to go over to Nikki’s house quite a lot when he was dating Vanity. It wasn’t always pretty. I remember one time when I was there they had a huge fight, and he flushed a three-or four-karat diamond ring down the toilet.

NIKKI: Wow, I forgot about that. I’m glad Tommy brought that up…I need to call the insurance company.

EVANGELIST DENISE MATTHEWS: What killed my relationship with Nikki? I believe the fame and possessive search for fortune, love and the exaltation of a dead Vanity, full of narcotics, is what broke me. My Bible says the woman that lives for pleasure shall die in it. It seemed to me that no matter where I turned as Vanity, it was leading me to death. And though you rent your face with painting and make yourself beautiful, God said, “Yet I will make your lovers hate you.” He did just that…and it couldn’t have ended any other way.


Van Nuys, 11:45 p.m.

Just returned from dinner with Bob. We went to a snotty lil French restaurant on Ventura Boulevard. We talked cars most of the time and split a nice bottle of wine, and that’s all. I’m feeling like I can control this. Maybe I can just not overdo it. Maybe I’m not as bad as I think I am…I’ve been pretty sane lately.

Today was mellow. I went to the mall and just walked around. I had a baseball hat and a sweater on…nobody noticed me. I was listening to Prince today…a lot…and Thompson Twins…how gay is that? Better put on some Hell Bent for Leather to redeem myself…

I haven’t even taken sleeping pills to sleep. Gonna go light some candles and crawl in bed with a Roald Dahl book…

BOB MICHAELS: Nikki and I used to go to a French restaurant over on Ventura Boulevard. The only reason we used to go was that it had vodkas at the bar that had been frozen for a month so we’d see how wasted we could get on martinis. The meals would always end with us pulling out of the driveway, which was a major traffic intersection, and doing multiple doughnuts in the road with the steering wheel jammed to the left and the accelerator right down. We couldn’t see where we were going and it was a miracle we didn’t crash. It never occurred to us that we would. Nikki had always got away with so much that he felt untouchable.


Van Nuys, 6:30 p.m.

Dear Diary, I’m such a loser. I’m a dreg and a liar. I feel like backwash. I feel shame…I got high last night. No, not just high–I lost my mind again. I ended up in the closet shooting coke…I’ve been doing so good. I’m so confused. It didn’t start off so bad. I thought I could control it…

P.S. I just woke up and I’m too sick to even eat. I’m going back to bed. Maybe if I just hide under the covers and go to sleep, this will all have been a nightmare…

Why do I take everything too far? I make myself sick…literally.


Van Nuys, 2 p.m.

I just got a call from the office. Karen said Sacha called for me–he’s in LA and wanted to know if I need a limo (a code word for junk?).

Why not?

P.S. I guess nobody knows what Sacha really does for money.

7 p.m.

Sacha came over–he actually does have his limos here. He moved his business here…he says NY is too crazy. I told him I am basically clean but have chipped, and shot coke, and now I feel bad. We talked about control. He said if I wanted him to help me control it, he would. I agree with him–if I didn’t do the coke, I would be really OK. It’s then, and only then, that I end up in the closet.

Sacha is actually a nice guy. Jason is such a fucking egomaniac–how can a dealer have a big ego? He’s always holding out on the gear or his connection if I want to buy quantity. Where Sacha gave me Abdul his direct dealer’s number, ’cause he’s still got to go back to NY and bring some clothes and furniture back here. He doesn’t deal coke any more, he says people get too weird on it. Tell me about it…

So I got some Mexican tar that I’m just gonna smoke until I go back out on the road. If I just do it once a day, it’s like having a beer in the afternoon.

I called Jason and told him I was gonna report him to the police if he ever came here again. He freaked out. So now I have no real connection to coke (Thank God)…I feel pretty fucking safe right now.

Gonna go chase the dragon, write some music and go out for a bike ride…end of a day in the life…


I've been dreamin' In black and white so long You know I didn't always hit the shit But my livin' days are way past gone I've been thinkin' Of where I went all wrong I been livin' in this hole so long I feel like it's where I belong

Don't laugh-you might be next Like you got nothin' You wouldn't like to forget

I've been thinkin' On why I went so I just been chasin' this dragon All around the block And I ain't got no far car So now you're sayin' It's a weakness in my soul Yeah before you write me off so quick You better look around at the people That you know

Don't laugh-you might be next


Van Nuys, 5 p.m.

I was checking the mail a few hours ago and Vanity pulled up in a limo. The first words out of her mouth were how sorry she was. She looked better than I’ve seen her in a while. I told her to come in. It was nice. I gave her my new number and told her we could be friends. It’s better to be this way than that way.

10 p.m.

Vanity just called and said she wanted to come over and watch a movie. What the hell–what can it hurt?


7 a.m.

Vanity just left to go score some blow. She came over last night and we were drinking and she asked if I wanted a bump. God, it sounded so good–so we did lines all night until we ran out. I told her I have some money in the safe and she took my Jeep and went to get some more. I know I said I wouldn’t but I’m not shooting or basing it. I’ll just go till noon or so and sleep it off…gate just rang, be back…

Cool, the liquor store just dropped off some Cristal–I need a drink bad. I’m pretty wired. I ran out of everything. Nothing is worse than running out. I’m gonna call Abdul for a little tar drop-off.


Abdul dropped off a quarter-gram but Vanity is nowhere to be found. Fucking bitch! I think she stole my money. I’m going to bed…fuck, I’m pissed…and to think I was having fun.


11 p.m.

Vanity just called, she’s coming over. She said she had to wait for the stuff and didn’t have my new number with her. She said she was sorry…am I a sucker or what?

I’m glad I have a place to write this down…otherwise it would just be me and the voices in my head…


Van Nuys, 5 p.m.

Just off the phone with Karen. Told her I was leaving tomorrow and asked her to watch the house. I’m leaving the key under the gargoyle at the front door. I haven’t been to sleep yet but I think I held it together pretty good. I know if I told her the truth she wouldn’t watch the house, and I can’t trust Vanity not to come here and go whacko. I hid all my drug paraphernalia in the safe behind my mirror in the bedroom. Nobody knows it’s there. I had the bricks torn out and the safe installed last year.

I got new sheets for the guest bed–I went in there and it smelled like cat pee…thanks Slash! Not a very nice way for Karen to start her stay. I’m just hoping it’s not the mattress. Maybe I can spray something on it.

I can’t believe I did freebase with Vanity all night. It ended as always…I threw her out at about 8 a.m. She was getting crazy and telling me about God. Also, I forgot I bought Whisky and sent him to obedience camp! He’s getting dropped off here in two days…I hope Karen doesn’t mind. I’m going back to bed until tomorrow morning.

KAREN DUMONT: When I moved into Nikki’s house my only condition was that he didn’t do drugs while I was there because I couldn’t handle that. I didn’t know what I would do if he was going off his head. Doc and Doug were pleased when I moved in because they thought Nikki liked me and they hoped I might be a good influence on him. I remember the day that I moved in the spare bed smelled of piss and Nikki said Slash had pissed on it. He didn’t want to buy another bed so I used to sleep on a couch in the den.

EVANGELIST DENISE MATTHEWS: Nikki and I could not have made our relationship right without Jesus and so it was not meant to be. Otherwise it surely would have been. We both needed all of those experiences just to get to the next step. Most of us are used as stepping-stones for each of us to climb to the next level. Some are used to make us fall down and go “Boom!” Just as long as we get up and keep climbing…


Leaving home in limo, 8 a.m.

I feel so drained right now. I’m in the limo…I don’t wanna ever come back to this life. I’m so excited to leave for tour. I didn’t have time to pack this morning so I’m taking the same dirty clothes I came home with back on tour.

Why is it that every time I get a foothold, I slip and fall back into the muck? I’m surrounded by derelicts…they search me out, they hunt me, they find me and try and kill me. I hate drugs but I can’t stop. When we’re done with this tour in Dec I wanna go into rehab in Jan (I need to tell Bob Timmons to book me a room for Jan 2). I’m selling the house and moving away…today I actually prayed to God.

I can’t believe I did freebase again.

I can’t believe I did Vanity again.

I can’t believe that I thought I could just chip junk.

I hope I’m not gonna be dope sick.

I can’t believe I’m considering AA/NA/CA.

I can’t believe I’m considering rehab.

I can’t believe I prayed to God.

NIKKI: The armor was starting to crack. I can see from my diary entries that I was looking for a way out of the quicksand. Maybe I was finally hoping someone was going to throw me a rope. For the first time I think I was actually willing to grab it. Seeing these entries now, I was screaming for help. I just don’t think I was screaming loud enough.



Drive down the freeway with your head in a bag You should be told you’re not alone being had Sniff some paint, sniff some glue Look at the effect this city’s having on you I understand your teenage angst I understand trying to kill the past Maybe we should all move far away Maybe it can all be blamed on LA Don’t tell me about me and I won’t tell you about you If you need a therapist, try suicide or go to the zoo This city’s built on drag queens, clichés and sins Rumors and back-stabbings at the Café Le Trend If you live in this town you’re a sucker and a clown Bullshitters by the ounce, liars by the pound There’s always a fool with a vial full of dreams There’s always a bum falling apart at the seams Gold lamé high heels a Rodeo Drive bitch Some desperate old groupie trying to get herself hitched Worn and torn it’s ripping apart Another 6.5 will be too much for my heart Riots and floods and shootings oh my…I wonder if I’ll ever get out of this city alive? Ya–LA sucks


Backstage, about midnight

First show back…man, it’s great to be back on tour. It was so good to see the guys. No matter how bad it gets between us, at least I know they really care about me. They don’t want anything from me. They’re not trying to kill me (that I know of–ha ha)…

Tonight’s show felt like a three-hour set. I was dripping toxic waste after one song…all the blow and booze and gear was just pouring out of me. I didn’t even have one drink onstage…

God, I hate LA…or I guess I hate the people I attract in LA…



Hotel, noon

I can’t believe we’re back in Indy just two months after we played here. Doc’s greed is showing. There are so many Mötley fans out there but he just goes where the easy money is and doesn’t help us build new fans in new cities (or countries). Between you and me, I think we need a new manager. This guy doesn’t like us–he just likes our money. He’s never here or in the office. He’s acting more like a record company every day…he does lil of the work and takes all of the credit. He just throws it all against the wall and if it sticks, cool–if not, he blames us.

ALLEN KOVAC: I have managed Mötley Crüe since the late ’90s, and while I don’t want to criticize their previous management, I do have the impression that they were just following the money. The trick is to maximize what you do in a city, instead of going to it multiple times. The advisers Mötley had back then didn’t explain the amount of work they had to bear, mentally and physically. They didn’t consider that when artists get tired they are likely to take sleeping pills, or self-medicate with alcohol. Mötley Crüe was abused by the system–their record label and representatives didn’t explain how things worked–they just wanted them to stay on the treadmill.


Hotel, Tulsa, Oklahoma, 2:20 p.m.

Rich Fisher decided to rent a helicopter and everybody is flying over to a restaurant to have a big dinner. I said I would go, but I know I won’t. I can’t face being social. I’d rather stay here. I feel so uncomfortable in my skin. It’s been creeping up on me for a few years–the bigger we get, the sadder I feel…

P.S. Just called Bob Timmons…got his answer machine.


BOB TIMMONS: Nikki would call me sporadically during the Girls tour asking for help but would never take it. He used to cover up his depression with anger–he felt that since now he was successful people wanted to be around him but they liked the fame, not him, so he self-medicated his pain through his drug use. Mötley Crüe lived in an unreal world–I remember on an earlier tour being backstage with them and David Lee Roth coming in and throwing an ounce of cocaine on the table and saying, “Hey, guys, there you go!” That was their attitude: We are rock stars, so this is what we do.


Hotel, Tulsa, 5 p.m.

I feel fragile and tormented and uncomfortable in my skin. What happened when the heroin left is that the comfort left. I’m drinking more than I have in past tours to try to replace the comfort that smack gave me. I hate to admit it, but maybe I’m not even who I think I am. I’m feeling fragile and weak, and I’m supposed to be on top of the world. Now I’ve started chipping again.

Bob Timmons called back but I wouldn’t talk to him.


On the jet, 1 a.m.

Tonight’s show was hard work. We’re sitting ready to take off for Dallas. Fred is pissed at me (even though he won’t admit it) ’cause before the show was started tonight, I hid in a road case by the side of the stage as the intro to The Stripper was playing. Fred was running around freaking out ’cause he couldn’t find me. He was turning over cases and screaming to cut the intro tape…ha ha ha…I jumped out just in time to start the show. When I looked over at the side of the stage he was as white as a ghost. I smirked and he just shook his head…

FRED SAUNDERS: Nikki was always doing shit like that. The bigger Mötley Crüe got, the cockier he got. He would always be dragging his feet and delaying things just because he could. Before the shows the band would have what we called PCPs–pre-concert piddles–and Tommy, Vince and Mick would find a bathroom, but Nikki would just whip out his dick and piss wherever he was, in a corridor or on the side of the stage. He was quite the charmer.


Hotel, Dallas, 1:45 p.m.

Excited for the show tonight and tomorrow. I love Texas. I’m going to be good…maybe go to the gym and write some music. Off to the sound check…see you after the show…I’m not going out.



Hotel, 4:30 p.m.

Last night was insane. It was another great show…as always, Dallas kicks ass. We stomped thru the set like a mechanical Godzilla (or Crüezilla). Then off to the best strip clubs in town. We had girls piled on us…blondes, brunettes, redheads. $100 bills were everywhere. I must have spent $5k on my own. I’m sure we dropped $25k last night between us…goddamn fun.

As the night went on and the drinks flowed I sorta lost my memory. I was trying to savor my zombie dust but I think it got the best of me. Mick and Emi went back to their room (of course) but Donna McDaniels came out with all of us. When I woke up there were panties on my lamp and her shoes at the end of the bed. I remember her coming back to my room for a bump but that’s all I remember.

God I hope I didn’t fuck her. Can you imagine if I did the very thing I am busting Mick’s balls for?


Off to the show…I’m so hungover…

Backstage, 7:30 p.m.

Everybody is busting my chops, laughing and asking if I fucked Donna. Oh Lord. I saw her and she just gave me a hug, and said she had fun last night. But she didn’t ask for her panties or shoes–what does that mean?

Time to get on the war paint. We’re spending the night in Dallas tonight. I’m coming straight to my room after the show.

11:45 p.m.

I pulled a runner tonight–straight off stage and into the limo then escorted right to my room. I’m watching a documentary on Hitler, Eva Braun and their drug use…OK I get the hint.



Hotel, Dallas, 3:35 a.m.

Just had a knock on the door. I looked thru the peephole and saw two fucking gorgeous blondes. They said, “Hey Nikki!” and I said, “You have the wrong room.” They started laughing and said, “Come on Nikki, open the door, we know it’s you!” I said again, “You have the wrong room,” and one of them said, “Oh no we don’t, we were here last night with you and I left my shoes.”

So I opened the door and said I was sick. They said, “Oh, well we thought you might wanna do a repeat of last night. We had a blast!” I said I did too, gave them the shoes and panties and told them if I wasn’t sick I’d love to hang out. One of them said, “Thanks, but these aren’t my panties…” and her girlfriend said they weren’t hers either. Oh Lord.

2:20 p.m.

Flying out to Denver soon. Robbin Crosby is coming out for a few days to visit then my grandfather is coming to Salt Lake.

Hotel, Denver, 10:45 p.m.

Just got into the hotel. Nice hotel, there’s a full spa downstairs, I’m gonna take advantage of it. I asked Rich to get a doctor out…I need my monthly penicillin shot to ward off any drip that’s brewing.

Robbin gets here tomorrow morning. We have adjoining rooms just like the old days when we were roommates. Fuck, we had fun back then! Ratt was just starting to get going and Mötley was on the way. We nicknamed him King ’cause he’s so big. Nobody could kick his ass but I always tried, ha ha. We used to go to this café right by our house every day ’cause we didn’t have a refrigerator and talk for hours. I love him. He’s been struggling with dope, but he says he’s clean now…just drinking.


Aerosmith–Get Your Wings

Aerosmith–Draw The Line

Aerosmith–first album



NIKKI: Aerosmith was touring the Permanent Vacation album at the same time that we were touring Girls Girls Girls. We would sometimes land at the same airport but we never really saw each other, just each other’s planes. One night Steven and Joe left a note on the window of our plane, like a ticket you get on the window of a car when you park in the red zone. It told us that if we weren’t careful, the way we were going, we would crash and burn the way they did. We all snickered at it, but it’s interesting that I was too ashamed to write it in my diary…because I knew they were right.

P.S. I’ve never known which is funnier—Aerosmith writing “Dude Looks Like a Lady” about Vince, or Dire Straits writing “Money for Nothing (and Chicks for Free)” about Mötley.


Hotel, Denver, noon

King’s here, yeah! He was telling me horror stories about his band. He pretty much hates them. Blotzer is a fucking asshole all the time these days and Percy thinks he’s such a rock star (Dude, you’re in Ratt, you’re not Steven Tyler or Jagger). I guess all bands are the same.

It’s so weird to see King has put on so much weight. He must have gained 50 lbs. I guess he really isn’t doing drugs. Every time I quit drugs, I start to get fat. I always say I’m not sure which is worse–being a drug addict or being fat.

On that note–time to order some food…


Hotel, Denver, 4:45 a.m.

The night’s show was really good. King said he was blown away at how tight we were. There were Denver’s finest girls there (what is it about strippers and rock stars, anyway?) so we brought them back with us to the hotel. We rented another room under the name Justin Case and piled them all in there. Tommy and Vince came over (Tommy brought his blaster, I brought the music) and we had room service bring eight bottles of champagne, two bottles of Jack and a bunch of food. We all hung out, turned up the music, and the girls danced for us, then every one picked their girls and headed back to their rooms. Now the girls are gone…I’m going to bed…fun day.

Safe and sane–three Mötleys and one Ratt.


P.S. King thought Whitesnake was great. He said I’m just a fucking punk and I don’t like them ’cause they can really play. I punched him in the neck and he knocked me against the wall (it fucking hurt) and then we both started laughing.

FRED SAUNDERS: Nikki and Robbin had a special camaraderie. They were both pretty big guys–Robbin was six-foot-four–and when Mötley and Ratt were both starting out they used to work the Hollywood club circuit together. They were also drug buddies and were always sneaking off together. They were competitive but Nikki was a lot stronger-minded and could normally persuade Robbin to do whatever he wanted. Robbin was quite depressive and Nikki thrived on that sort of thing: If he saw a weakness in a person he would sense blood and be all over them like a shark in the water.

NIKKI: I miss Robbin and I often think of him. We did heroin together the first time with King’s friend Smog Vomit from a band called Tex and the Horse heads. When I finally got away from junk, Robbin went even further down than I did. He lost it all and ended up homeless, divorced and bankrupt. Eventually he got AIDS from sharing needles with squatters in LA and I was gonna lose one of my best friends in the world. It wasn’t AIDS that took Robbin from me (or any of us for that matter)–it was heroin. He had changed so much that I had to cut him out of my life.

I let him stay at my house in 1990 with the understanding that there were to be no drugs in my home. I had young children and I was clean and sober. One day when he was out of the house, I went into the guest room and saw he had a crumpled brown paper bag in there. It looked all too familiar to me so I opened it and there were needles and spoons and the usual stuff we use to kill ourselves. I had to ask him to leave. That was a sad day for both of us. I remember crying as he drove away. I never saw him again.

A few weeks later he called and asked to borrow $10,000 so he could get out of debt and back on his feet. I told him I loved him and he was one of my best friends in the world, but being a former junkie myself, I knew where the money would go and I felt I would be killing him rather than saving him. I told him if he would get ninety days sober, I would give him the money in a heartbeat. He told me to fuck off and hung up on me. It broke my heart because I knew he didn’t mean it. I was so heartbroken I couldn’t even go to his funeral. I still feel guilty to this day, like maybe I could have done more.

ROSS HALFIN: Robbin wasn’t as mentally strong as Nikki and couldn’t handle smack like Nikki did. I remember once walking down the street in LA and Robbin was literally sitting on the street begging. It was boiling hot but he was sheet white and his feet were all blue and blistered. Robbin eventually caught HIV from needles and died of AIDS.

11:40 a.m.

Just got off the phone with Doug. I told him Doc is on his last legs with the band. He told me I’m overreacting and we got into a bit of a fight. Doug is such a nuts-and-bolts manager, the day-to-day guy, but Doc holds us all back (including Doug). He never follows up on any of our ideas or visions. He’s here to massage the label and get our ideas to become real but he’s so busy bragging, spending money and playing golf that he can’t see the future. Well I can see the future very clearly and it doesn’t involve him. I give him six months…if that. I need a manager who is into technology and marketing…maybe one doesn’t exist? I want more from a manager.

People think I’m a control freak but I just want the best for us. I want us to be the biggest band in the world and to break all the rules. I feel if I don’t push we won’t ever do anything different from every other fucking band.

OK. Enough from me…gonna go jump on King’s bed and wake his lazy ass up (and then run…)

ALLEN KOVAC: I first met Nikki in 1985 when he was dating Lita Ford and he was an angry punk who didn’t care what anybody’s opinion was. But I liked him–underneath it all was a person whose eyes and smile showed he had character and who wanted to understand the business side as well as grow as an artist. I wanted to manage Mötley Crüe–which I eventually did–largely because both Nikki and Tommy had a real exuberance and wanted to learn.



On the jet, 2:30 a.m.

King just looked at me and said, Wow, this doesn’t suck…ha ha…I had the waitress bring him a line on a silver platter with his own bottle of champagne. Fresh tacos and chips for everyone except Vince, who had his usual tuna sandwich. The show was cool tonight but the altitude just kills you here. It doesn’t matter how good shape you’re in. Mick asked King to jam with us in Salt Lake…that will be fun. Tom’s coming in tomorrow…we should be there in about an hour. Today I’m happy.

Hotel, Salt Lake City, 12:30 p.m.

Tom is coming in today to hang. I’ll have my grandfather and King with me. Sorta like the dad and brother I never had. The girls in Salt Lake are so beautiful. This is a town of suppressed people raised with a religious iron fist and sexual repression. So need I tell you, Diary, of the fucking debauchery that comes from the mixture of Mötley Crüe and Mormon girls?

After the show I’m flying back to LA on the Mötley jet and I don’t know why. I need a girlfriend–a nice normal girl…where is she? Maybe I’ll find her tonight…