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Why You Shouldn't Do Drugs: Quotes From The Life Of Motley Crue's Nikki SixxMotley Crue: The Dirt - Confessions of the World’s Most Notorious Rock Band is an extraordinary book. The way the members of the band grew up is horrifying. The way they partied in the early years of their existence would make Roman emperors green with envy. In fact, the copious amount of sex, drugs, and rock and roll they talk about early on in the book is EXACTLY why so many people find the life of a rock star appealing in the first place.
But unlike so many Hollywood stories, the book doesn’t stop there. You don’t just get the fun times early on; you get the horror stories, too. In Nikki Sixx’s case, he had money, women, fame, and was living his dream as part of one of the world’s most successful rock bands. Yet and still, drugs were destroying his life.
Now, most people understand that drugs can do that in the abstract. But sometimes, seeing actual examples of the kind of damage they can do in the life of a famous person can have more of an impact. So, consider these quotes from the book to be a cautionary tale. We’ll start with a famous guest appearance from Ozzy Osbourne, who was high as an airplane when he did this in public. (Note: If you’re bothered by extreme immorality or are weak of stomach, you may want to skip these quotes. Just remember, you were warned.)
I handed (Ozzy) the straw, and he walked over to a crack in the sidewalk and bent over it. I saw a long column of ants, marching to a little sand dugout built where the pavement met the dirt. And as I thought, “No, he wouldn’t,” he did. He put the straw to his nose and, with his bare white ass peeking out from under the dress like a sliced honeydew, sent the entire line of ants tickling up his nose with a single, monstrous snort. (Hawkins’ note: I’ve actually seen this part of the story recounted with some admiration by stoners. “Wow, he’s hard core, man!” The next part of the story always seems to be left out)
But, now, I was confronted with a new problem: What do you do after the orgy? The only thing I could think to do after the orgy was to have another one, a bigger one, so that I didn’t have to deal with the consequences of the last one. Vince was on the news every day, and I was so junked out I’d ask, “Why is Vince on the news?” And someone would say, “That’s for the manslaughter charge.” And I’d just say, “Oh yeah,” and shoot up again.
After two days of light junk sickness, I realized that I was indeed an addict. The band had changed from a lighthearted, fun-loving imp to some sort of bitter, callus-skinned nomadic creature. We were tired, we hadn’t stopped in years, and I’d become crass and mean.
I coughed, I gagged, I coughed again. I awoke, and the room looked upside down. I was on the shoulder of the dealer who was carrying me out the door like an old trash bag. I gagged again, and vomit came pouring out of my mouth. He dropped me to the floor. My body had turned blue, there was ice down my pants from Andy trying to wake me up, and I had a large welts all over my arms and chest from a baseball bat. That was the dealers idea: he thought he could put me in so much pain that my system would shock itself back into action. When that tactic failed, he had evidently decided to throw me in the dumpster behind his tenement and leave me for dead. But then I vomited on his shoes. I was alive. I considered that my second valentine of the night.
I had no control. So once I set foot inside my house, I hardly ever left. Nicole and I shot up between five hundred and one thousand dollars worth of drugs a day. We went through bags of heroin, rocks of cocaine, cases of Cristal, and whatever pills we could get our hands on. — Nikki, P.151
The day after I returned home from Tommy’s wedding, there was a hand-delivered letter from our accountant, Chuck Shapiro, waiting for me in the mailbox. “You have been spending five thousand dollars a day,” he wrote. “Five thousand dollars times seven is thirty-five thousand dollars a week. Per month, that’s one-hundred forty thousand dollars. In exactly eleven months, you will be completely broke, if not dead. — P.164
And so I fell right into the spider’s web. Stuck in freebase, I lost what little remained of the self-control I had been practicing since rehab and became a completely dysfunctional paranoid. One afternoon, there were some people hanging out in my living room, and Vanity and I were holed up in the bedroom. We turned on the radio, which was attached to speakers throughout the house, and listened to the music while we lit up some freebase. As we were smoking, the music stopped and a talk radio program began. I pulled out my .357 magnum and took another hit. As I was holding the freebase in my lungs, I yelled at the radio, “You motherf*ckers, I’ll f*cking shoot you. Get the f*ck out of her.” I think I somehow thought that the voices coming from the radio were actually the people in my living room, which was on the other side of the door. The voices didn’t stop when I yelled at them, of course, so as I exhaled a sweet puff of white smoke into the air, I unloaded my .357 through the door.
My grandmother was getting sicker and they wanted me to come visit her. But I was so smacked out, I kept ignoring the calls — until it was too late. My grandfather called crying one afternoon and gave me directions to her funeral, which was to take place the following Saturday. I promised him that I would be there. When Saturday rolled around, I had been awake for two days straight, I shot up some coke to give me enough energy to put one foot in front of the other, crawled off the sofa, started to dress, and fumbled around trying to find directions for an hour. Then I changed my clothes three times, and puttered around looking for car keys and worrying about how I’d find the funeral home before I decided it was too complicated and I just couldn’t get my act together. I sat back down on my couch, cooked up some freebase, and turned on the TV.
The next day, the three if us boarded a plane to Hong Kong. I was so dirty that no one would sit in my row. Finally, Mr. Udo, wearing a business suit, took the seat next to me.
Posted: September 29, 2012, 10:00 am
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