by Nikki Sixx
Axl never comes. He’s a twat.
DOUG THALER: I joined the tour in Jacksonville and Nikki was pretty fucked up on Jack Daniel’s. He showed me some gummy black substance he had that he claimed was some kind of exotic cocaine that he was going to snort. I thought, Good luck snorting a gummy substance! Then the next morning he said he had lost that weird shit, and he asked me what had happened to it. I told him I had absolutely no idea.
TOMMY LEE: We hung out with Slash every day on tour but Axl was a lot more reserved. There were times he would be really cool, but then at other times he just had that fucking singer thing that they all get–LSD: Lead Singer Disease.
* * *
FIND MYSELF
I gotta find myself some love I gotta find myself some drugs I gotta find some liquid sunshine I gotta find myself, I gotta find myself I’m a sick motherfucker I’m a sweet sucka mutha Ain’t no one tougher I’m a wreck, I’m a sleaze I’m a rock ’n’ roll disease I’m a pusher, I’m a shover Ain’t no motherfucker tougher I gotta find myself some glue I gotta find some suction Now my aim is destruction I gotta find myself, I gotta find myself I got to deal with my neurosis I got to deal with my neurosis I gotta sniff myself some glue I got to find myself
* * *
NOVEMBER 28TH, 1987 LEE COUNTY CIVIC CENTER FORT MYERS, FL
On the jet, 2:05 a.m.
Had a show tonight in Fort Myers. Right now we’re on the jet on our way to Fort Lauderdale. I just got done fucking with Emi. Everyone except Mick was laughing their asses off. She’s always talking about God and she was on one of her rants. It makes me sick so I stood in the middle of our jet with my pants down with two middle fingers pointed towards her God, yelling, “Fuck you, God! If you’re so real, strike me down!” over and over. Emi kept crossing her heart and started crying and the more she cried, the more I got into it. Needless to say I’m sitting here in my seat, still alive and well. She’s just like my mom and Vanity, full of shit, and in the end she’ll take Mick for everything, ’cause one thing I can smell is a fucking gold digger.
P.S. Tommy got the pilot to do a barrel roll–I bet Emi pissed her saggy little panties after all I said…
CHICKS = TROUBLE.
MICK MARS: Nikki was pretty horrible to me and Emi through the whole Girls tour. He was nasty when he was on smack, Jack Daniel’s, Halcion, sober, whatever. He used to pour food on us, pour drinks over us, hassle me a lot, make a lot of threats–he just could not bear the idea of Emi and me being together. He made that tour a nightmare.
TOMMY LEE: You know what? Maybe we went a bit too far. It pissed us off because we had this protocol about not fucking the hired help and then suddenly there were Mick and Emi sneaking down staircases and into each other’s rooms together. But Mick is a pretty sensitive guy and, let’s face it, he just fell in love with Emi–I mean, he ended up marrying her!
But once Emi got involved with Mick her attitude changed and she got all fucking diva with us so we wanted to teach her a lesson. I remember we were always accidentally-on-purpose spilling Jack on her on the plane, pushing her buttons, seeing just how far we could piss her off…we were just fucking around and being really retarded, stupid kids.
* * *
BABY KILLS
She carries Mother’s Bible Mixes Valium with her beliefs
* * *
NOVEMBER 29TH, 1987 HOLLYWOOD SPORTATORIUM PEMBROKE PINES, FL
Hotel, 3 p.m.
Just woke up. Tonight is the last show of the US tour…thank God. Gonna order some breakfast…but it’s scary ’cause I’m going home…
Backstage 6 p.m.
At the gig. We’re gonna have our pyro guys shoot off a ton of shit during Guns’ show in a little bit. They have never used pyro so I’m sure it’s gonna freak them out…should be fun.
8:20 p.m.
Now that, my friend, was insane. We loaded up about 25 pyro blasts and when Guns kicked into Welcome to the Jungle they all went off at once. The band looked like they were gonna shit their pants and then got the biggest smiles I’ve ever seen. Axl was wearing a Mötley T-shirt…THAT was unexpected. Gotta get ready…last show…
* * *
END OF U.S. TOUR
* * *
NOVEMBER 30TH, 1987
Airport, noon
Sitting on the plane waiting for it to take off for home. I still haven’t been to bed…last night topped all nights of debauchery. We got a huge conference room again, about two ounces of blow, but this time we had the goods to base with…tons of pills, booze. We lined these chicks up, six or seven of them, snorted coke off one’s back then stuck our dicks in her, then go on to the next one, do a line, on and on…talk about farm animals! We were outta our minds.
Lots of hugs and gonna miss yous and thank yous. We smashed the whole room up pretty good and then when it was about time for the airport, T-Bone took some sleeping pills and passed out. We had to push himin a wheelchair to get him on the plane. They sat him next to a little girl and she started crying.
Oh God, we need a break…I’m so tired, my eyes are sunk into the back of my head. I see it on everybody’s faces. I love these guys and I know we’re a great band but it’s all spinning outta control and nobody is taking the wheel. As long as we make money we’re the darlings of the world…
Goodnight…I’m on my way Home Sweet Home…
TOMMY LEE: Fuck, dude, the Sportatorium show! We called it the Snortatorium, because all these fucking coke dealers turned up at the show. One even had a license plate that said D-E-A-L-E-R. There were just endless amounts of free cocaine. The second that the last show was over, Nikki and I both stuck our faces in these huge piles of coke and didn’t come up. I remember them wheeling me in a wheelchair through the airport, because I was fucking done–I couldn’t walk, talk, think, nothing. Maybe there was a little drool.
DOUG THALER: After the last U.S. date everybody was just fucked up on blow and alcohol. Tommy took a bunch of downers at about eight or nine in the morning and Rich Fisher had to wheel him on to the noon flight back to LA in a wheelchair. Some horrified guy in first class nearly shit his pants when they started to plop Tommy, semiconscious, into the seat next to him. The stewardess wisely positioned Tommy in a lone first-class seat by himself. It was about the only time on that tour that Tommy was more of a mess than Nikki.
* * *
SAVE OUR SOULS
It’s been the hard road, edge of an overdose No matter how high you’re still too low I've been the dancer, the wicked romancer It's a never-ending nightmare, edge of disaster
* * *
DECEMBER 1987
…. HE SAYS IF YOU DON'T CHANGE YOUR WAYS YOU WONT LIVE UNTIL THE END OF THE YEAR
DECEMBER 1ST, 1987
Van Nuys, 1:50 p.m.
Abdul is coming over while Karen is at work. I feel so burned out, ripped and torn from the tour right now and I need a break from reality…hence Abdul. I’m so tired of being tired. I feel like I’m vanishing into a ghost right before the world’s eyes.
I really don’t think the office knows how brittle we’ve become. Karen doesn’t know that I know she’s a spy. I must be careful to have Abdul come at the right times. His appearance is a dead giveaway–he looks like a decaying rat, even more so than me. Karen could see him coming a mile off ’cause he looks like junk. Karen is a girl who’s blind as a bat to dealers but even a bat could see he’s bad news.
I wonder how the guys are doing. I know whenever a tour ends I feel like a stranger in my own home. Without room service it’s hard to even figure out how to eat. Gate just buzzed…gotta go…
DECEMBER 2ND, 1987
Van Nuys, 3:45 p.m.
Just laid around yesterday feeling nothing, no remorse and no celebration. Actually I’m lying, I feel hatred, but for whom I’ve forgotten…does it really matter anymore? Maybe not.
The sky is gray outside today and it makes me feel safe, like I’m under a huge down comforter and I’m drifting off to sleep. I bought $5k worth of dope yesterday
’cause I don’t wanna see Abdul every day for a few reasons. I don’t think I can face seeing anybody right now ’cause I’m on the verge of having a human contact breakdown. The tour has left me completely without personality. Also Karen is keeping an eye on me and visitors will set off red flags.
I will venture from my bedroom soon but for now I’m praying the clouds don’t lift.
DECEMBER 3RD, 1987
Van Nuys, 4:20 p.m.
Been shooting dope 4 or 5 times a day. The good news is I won’t have bad tracks if I stay on track (there’s a cool lyric)…it feels so good to not feel. My nerves have been like live wires for months and months. People, they just wear you down, they get in close, look in your eyes and say stupid shit. You have to restrain yourself or you come off as a heartbreak to them, especially if you’re their hero.
Mostly Vince has the most impact on my sanity. I may be an asshole, Tommy may be self-centered, Mick may be a recluse and insane but Vince is a drama queen and that wears you down…little episode-by-episode temper tantrums. When you’re brittle it doesn’t take an earthquake to wear you down. Repeated tremors do the job just fine.
Karen is coming home from Doc’s office in a few hours. I guess I need to use the old junkie fave excuse that I think I’m coming down with something…maybe the flu…I just can’t get out of bed…
DECEMBER 5TH, 1987
Van Nuys, 2:30 a.m.
It’s official, I feel strung out again.
I guess I knew it all along.
DECEMBER 6TH, 1987
Van Nuys, 2:05 p.m.
Today would have been Nona’s birthday. I feel too ashamed to call Tom and ask how he’s doing. I’m sure he’s sitting somewhere with a broken heart too. So I sit here and shoot dope in my bedroom alone. Watching TV, watching life pass me by–I went from a kid with a dream to a loser, a hero to a zero. I hope she can’t see me now ’cause who I turned out to be would break her heart. I was a good kid, she loved me, I guess I just didn’t love myself enough and now that I’m unraveling I must be a true disappointment. I’d say I’ll see her soon, but I know as you do diary, if there is a heaven, it’s not where I’ll be going…
* * *
NONA
Nona, I’m out of my head without you…
* * *
DECEMBER 7TH, 1987
Van Nuys, midnight
I’m heading down a road I know I shouldn’t be going but I can’t seem to find the brakes. I’m not sure I want to find them. Abdul told me today he’s taken to selling blow to a select few since the junk business isn’t doing so good. I told him I was enjoying not having to worry daily about deliveries since I bought quantity from him and I would take 1 oz if he could get some pure pink. He said he has a lead to get it before it gets cut but I’d have to pay extra so he didn’t have to step on it and I’m fine with that…I have more money than I can ever spend so what’s an extra $500 to me? I don’t wanna start cooking and all that hassle plus Karen is still watching me like a hawk. I know the minute she walks into the office it’s always the same–How’s Nikki? I’ve even taken to calling the office before I shoot up to throw everybody off my track (wow, another song title). Abdul said he’d bring me 100 fresh rigs when he comes over. I’m running low and you triple your shots with coke. Now, the dilemma–do I shoot so I don’t get caught, and when I go into Japan, how do I hide the tracks?
I have to tell you I don’t feel like I’ll ever be off this shit and I’m settling into being OK with that. If I could just fade away I might be the happiest I’ve ever been…
Pete stopped by and we shared a shot…he’s strung out again too.
KAREN DUMONT: Doc and Doug liked the fact I was staying at Nikki’s because they hoped it would be grounding for him, but they never asked me to spy on him. I’d tell them that we’d had a good weekend but that was pretty much it. Nikki wasn’t straight, but he hid it well because he knew I can’t handle being around anyone drugged out of their mind and I would have just taken off. There was a dealer who would come late at night and ring the gate bell. I would answer and tell him to go away, then Nikki and I would fight about it. If I was there, they wouldn’t get in, so I guess Nikki had to plan other visits.
DECEMBER 8TH, 1987
Van Nuys, 7:30 p.m.
Karen asked me why when I go to the store I only buy plastic lemons and ice cream. I told her I use the lemon in my tea after she goes to work and the ice cream–I just have a sweet tooth lately…
I haven’t really eaten food in a week…junk is like that. So Karen has to go to the store and buy real food, which I never eat. I tell her I eat when she’s at work. I’m getting so thin it’s hard to find clothes to fit in my closet. Of course, they say you can never be too rich or too thin.
NIKKI: I’d use the plastic lemons to cook up my Persian heroin with. You can use real lemons but they are such a hassle. I would have garbage bags of used plastic lemons in my bedroom and the maid would ask me if she could throw them away and I’d say no. Nothing is worse for a junkie who’s using Persian than running out of lemon for your dope…other than running out of dope. I remember going into the market with a shopping cart and wandering up and down the aisles. I must have spent hours there and only bought lemons and ice cream. What a beautiful picture of decay I must have been to all the mothers doing their weekly family shopping.
DECEMBER 11TH, 1987
Van Nuys, 3:10 p.m.
I just woke up and realized today is my birthday. I ran to the machine to check it…no messages. Nobody has called to wish me a Happy Birthday. No presents, no cards, nothing. Nice. Wake up junk sick with a head full of sorrow.
I have to go to Japan tomorrow and I know I’m gonna kick on the plane just like I did in ’85. Karen knows something is up but as with all things junkie, I’m good at hiding it. My arms on the other hand tell a torrid tale. Thank God it’s December because if it was summer it would be highly suspect wearing a long sleeve shirt and a leather jacket all the time. I haven’t had sex since the tour…I’ve lost all drive or interest.
5 p.m.
Abdul came by. He gave me a balloon of high-grade china for my birthday. He said if I wanted he could get me a great price if I bought bulk like I did the Persian. I’m not sure if this is what you’d call a conventional birthday gift but considering it’s my only one, I’ll take it.
I’ve yet to unpack from the US leg of the tour so I’m gonna dump my clothes out and grab some clean clothes so I’m ready to go tomorrow. I feel sorry for my maid–she hasn’t been in my bedroom in almost two weeks. It smells like death in here. I gotta dispose of everything before I leave, I know Karen will snoop…
Happy birthday.
7 p.m.
Just got back from the store. I need a few things for my trip to Japan. Karen said I should take a shower ’cause I smell. I’ll try but I’m so strung out and I just don’t give a fuck anymore.
This is sad, but it’s my destiny.
DECEMBER 12TH, 1987
On the plane to Tokyo, 5 p.m.
I brought a small amount of dope to snort but I ran out 6 hours or so ago. I’m going into a kick. Everybody keeps saying how much weight I lost. I told them I was dieting and stopped drinking…at least the drinking part is true ’cause junkies hate alcohol. But right about now I need a shot and Jack is all there is. I got a stash of Valium to help but even that can’t remove this pain. Fuck, I’m feeling like shit…sweating up a storm. It’s amazing what a difference 12 days can make in your life. I went from completely drunk and coked out to strung out again.
This is my second trip to Japan on a kick. It’s fucked but good, ’cause one thing I know is you can’t get junk in Japan…at least, I haven’t ever been able to. Thank God…
DOC McGHEE: While Mötley was in Japan they basically tortured poor Mr. Udo the promoter, who is the nicest man on the planet. When we got to Tokyo they found some pot in Tommy’s drum case at the airport so the cops took all our equipment. Tommy didn’t have a clue how serious that coul
d be. He just said, “Dude, what’s a little pot?” Mötley just didn’t understand–or care–that in Japan there is a very low tolerance for any kind of disturbance. When we got to the hotel, Tommy dropped a wine bottle out of a tenth-story window and couldn’t figure out why that might have been a big deal.
* * *
IF YOU CAN’T MANAGE THE UNMANAGEABLE, THEN HOW CAN YOU CALL YOURSELF A MANAGER?
* * *
DECEMBER 13TH, 1987 SOGO TAIKIKAN RAINBOW HALL, NAGOHAI JAPAN
Backstage, 5 p.m.
Getting ready to go onstage. I’m so sick. I keep to my lie that I must have the flu but everybody knows the truth…it’s an unspoken truth. I’m gonna go out and sweat some of this poison out. I’m very jet-lagged and feeling depressed. Trying to smile and be up but to be honest this is the worst it’s ever been…but I knew what I was getting into.
DECEMBER 14TH, 1987 FESTIVAL HALL, OSAKA, JAPAN
Hotel, Nagoya, 2 a.m.
Still awake, can’t sleep. My legs are cramping so bad and the Valium isn’t doing much good. Everybody got smashed and fucked lil Japanese girls. I couldn’t fuck if I wanted to…
