by Nikki Sixx
NIKKI: You know what’s not glamorous? Throwing up and shitting at the same time during junk withdrawal. Something’s not going to get in the toilet bowl. Can you imagine the look on those sweet lil Japanese housekeeping ladies’ faces?
On the bullet train to Osaka, 2 p.m.
Didn’t get much sleep…mostly on and off. I’m almost over the kick, now it’s just the jones. Thank God for pills.
I’m on the bullet train. These fans are amazing, it’s like we’re the Beatles over here. It’s basically a riot, all screaming Nikki! Tommy! Nikki! Tommy! They seem to love me and T-Bone here for some strange reason. I would think it would be Vince, with his blonde hair and California cool. He’s perfect to be idolized here.
The sick thing is, they keep saying, Oh Nikki-san, we so sorry you have a flu! Fucking lies travel fast…gonna try to sleep.
3 p.m.
Can’t sleep…
4:30 p.m.
Just got to Osaka. Last night’s show was fucking crazy…I can’t believe it–the band seems to be in love again. But fucking Emi is still with Mick like she’s his girlfriend or something. Fucking whore!
Sound check time.
DECEMBER 15TH, 1987 DAY OFF
Hotel, Tokyo, 5 a.m.
Just got out of jail…will write later…
Hotel, 11:45 a.m.
Well, I feel like shit…not from last night’s event, from my head killing me. So let me see if I can piece last night together. We played a show, got on the bullet train to come back to Tokyo, me and Tommy started drinking a lot. We were pouring drinks on Emi and starting trouble and then I sort of blacked out. I guess I threw a Jack Daniel’s bottle at some Japs or something. I sorta remember being in jail and Doc and Mr. Udo being there. I guess I’ll make some calls and see who’s mad and who thinks it’s funny.
First some shitty runny eggs…eating eggs in Japan is like committing hari-kari.
TOMMY LEE: Dude, we were just being an ugly American drunk fucking rock band on that bullet train. We looked like fucking freaks. We were pouring JD on Emi, then Nikki thought somebody was looking at him wrong so he just cocked the Jack bottle and heaved it across the passenger car. It smashed against the wall, and glass and whisky went all over this fucking Japanese businessman who got up and freaked the fuck out. Then we pulled into the station and it was lined up with police officers. The Japanese guy pointed Nikki out and they took him to jail. I think he was even doing blow in the holding pen area. He had it hidden in his sock.
MICK MARS: I still think Nikki threw the bottle down the bullet train because of me and Emi. He had thrown a load of rice and crap all over our seats and down our necks and then suddenly he came at us all pinned. His face had turned about fifteen shades of red with anger. He started yelling at me and was going to hit me with the JD bottle, but at the last second he spun around and threw it down the end of the train, and it smashed all over a bunch of people at the front.
VINCE NEIL: Nikki and Tommy were completely out of control on the bullet train, and I was totally embarrassed by it. They were just being awful to the Japanese people, yelling, “Fuck you–you lost the war!” to these sixty-year-old businessmen who didn’t know who Mötley Crüe was; they were just on their way home from work and had these fucking psychos yelling and throwing bottles of JD at them when they probably didn’t even understand English. It was totally unacceptable. When Nikki got arrested I just said to Mick, “Fuck these guys, let’s not get involved with this.” I didn’t give a shit if Nikki went to jail and stayed there. I just thought, You know what? You’ve dug your own grave.
DOC McGHEE: When we arrived in Tokyo there were a hundred police waiting to arrest Nikki. Tommy wanted to fight them and kept yelling for them to arrest him too. I told the police chief, “Look, I’m the manager. Can we talk about this?” and he said, “You the manager? Under arrest!” So they dragged Nikki and me away. We were sitting in the cells and if I could have unhandcuffed my hands I would have beaten the shit out of him. Nikki was so far out of it he was just saying to me, “Dude, shall I show them my tattoos?” Mr. Udo had to come to the police station at four o’clock in the morning and we had to sign an apology note for the guy who had been hit with the bottle.
NIKKI: I remember Fred Saunders telling me that when I was in jail in Tokyo, I asked the police captain, “If my balls were on your chin, where would my dick be?” The police captain asked what I had said and the translator told him that I had said I was very sorry and didn’t mean any disrespect. I guess that was the Mötley Crüe way. Somebody was always bailing us out of trouble.
DECEMBER 16TH, 1987 NIPPON BUDOKAN TOKYO, JAPAN(SHOW 1)
Hotel, Tokyo 2 p.m.
Lately I’ve been slipping deeper into thoughts of…why? I don’t know why, I just am slipping deeper. Some days I don't know how much longer I can hold on, or why I would even want to. You’d think I’d be excited about selling out three nights at the Budokan but I’m rotting inside and all I smell is my putrid past…it haunts me. Maybe to you it would seem like a surface burn but the pain is too deep for surgery.
P.S. I’m so lonely I called Vanity. It must have been the cocaine I got from the Yakuza…
P.P.S. Fucking Tommy pisses me off. He says I punched him in the face last night–I fucking should have. Vince almost got shot by a Yakuza. Interesting evening. Nobody in the band is talking to each other. Lovely…fucking lovely…
DECEMBER 17TH, 1987 NIPPON BUDOKAN TOKYO, JAPAN(SHOW 2)
Hotel, Tokyo, noon
Another show last night…like I do anything else! We got offstage early as usual here in Japan. I went straight into a blackout drunk. I can’t seem to stay sober ’cause my guts are trying to kill me. I know I’m dying from depression. I feel like a lost soul…like the only person left on Earth. If I died, would anybody cry? It seems to me by putting myself out of my misery I’d be killing two birds with one stone.
Rich Fisher said I called the hotel front desk and complained about the fans banging on my window last night. Fuck–I’m on the 26th floor. I’m losing it…unraveling at the seams. And this is news?
P.S. I have press today but everybody can fuck off. I’m not showing up…
DECEMBER 18TH, 1987 NIPPON BUDOKAN TOKYO, JAPAN(SHOW 3)
Backstage, 10 p.m.
Just got offstage. Last show of the year. I don’t wanna be on the road and I don’t wanna go home. If I go home I’ll get strung out again. I’m going to Bangkok to explore. I got $50k in cash coming from the accountant and everybody is telling me, “No.” I’m so sick of all these assholes. Let me live or die my way. I know I’m your meal ticket, but haven’t you milked it enough? If I don’t come back you make millions on the dead rock star merchandise…
I’m done, I’m fried and I don’t care. My heart is broken from my childhood. I’m worn to the bone from being driven like a slave and I’ve lost my will to do anything but fade…please…
DECEMBER 19TH, 1987
Hotel, Tokyo, 11 a.m.
Well, today I was shot down in flames.
Doc and everybody demanded that I don’t go to Bangkok and said in exchange Doc and Mr. Udo would go to Hong Kong with me. I just don’t wanna go home so this is better than nothing–but they only gave me $15k in cash! I sometimes wonder why I let them lead me by a ring in my nose like a cow on its way to slaughter. I have every intention of ditching Doc and Udo but I’ll play like I’m excited to go (for now…).
I have a plane to catch and I can’t find my clothes so I’d better figure out what happened last night. I’m so bummed. It’s Christmas and I don't have a reason to go home. Is there anybody out there? Or am I gonna be a rock ’n’ roll casualty? Is death an option? Or am I a fucking martyr? Why am I alive? Why do I care? What do I care about? Am I a…
Fuck me, I hate me…fuck off and die already…
* * *
ANYBODY OUT THERE?
I'm gonna die You're gonna die We gotta live for tonight 'cause we're runnin' Out of time Lookin' for a lover? Let me a
sk ya Is anybody out there?
* * *
KAREN DUMONT: Doc McGhee was so depressed and embarrassed about Nikki in Japan because Doc really respected Mr. Udo and saw him as a friend as well as a business partner. Doc offered to take Mr. Udo to Hong Kong to make amends and they were talking about it when Nikki came wandering over and said, “Hong Kong? That sounds great–I’d love to come!” Mr. Udo, being so polite, said, “Please come with us.” Doc was just dying of shame.
TOMMY LEE: I actually thought deciding to go to Hong Kong was one of Nikki’s more sober moments. He didn’t want to go home because that meant the party was over and he told me he wanted to buy some furniture for his home. He seemed really sincere about wanting to go to Hong Kong and get amazing deals on furniture.
VINCE NEIL: When Nikki announced he wasn’t coming back to LA but was going to Hong Kong I couldn’t have cared less. I didn’t give it a second thought, just said, “Fine, have a nice time, ’bye.” We weren’t close in any way and I wanted to keep my distance from him because he was fucking bad news.
On a plane to Hong Kong, 4 p.m.
Mr. Udo just said to me, Nikki-san, you’re gonna die if you don’t stop. He said he told the same thing to Tommy Bolin and Tommy didn’t listen. He died a few days later. Udo looked like he was gonna cry. It made me feel loved…more than my father ever did.
Hotel, Hong Kong, 7:20 p.m.
Doc, Mr. Udo and me are going to go to a Chinese restaurant that Mr. Udo says is one of the best in the world. I haven’t eaten in a few days. I’m too weak to attempt to go out afterwards. When I told Doc, he breathed a sigh of relief. Oh Doc, you’re not getting off that easy. Tomorrow is just around the corner and hell only a few feet away. Sounds poetic, doesn’t it? Right. Off to dinner…
P.S. I smell so bad. I haven’t showered since LA and I can see people actually look repulsed when they get a whiff of me. Sometimes I stand next to people just to fuck with them. I didn't bring any clothes with me, just cash. Fuck, what else do I need?
DECEMBER 20TH, 1987
Hotel, Hong Kong, 11 a.m.
I have an interpreter Li meeting me in an hour and I’m gonna buy some antiques for the house. Doc said he will join me. I’m feeling good since I slept but I still don’t have any interest in a shower or food.
I have a feeling of relief at being away from everybody. If I could just disappear into some place like this, maybe I could find myself. My life is loud. Everywhere I go, people are talking to me, but nothing is as loud as the screams in my head. They are far off, distant, and I can’t make out the words…I have come to realize it’s most likely the drugs. They are always calling me. Right now I have given up. I really don’t care anymore…they win! To be honest my life has been an abortion. Or at least it should have been.
If being a rock star is an accomplishment I’ve failed miserably and I feel miserable. Be careful what you wish for as they say (whoever they are). I commend them. They were right…rotting is painful. Isn’t there an easier way? To go shopping for antique snot wondering if you will be alive at Christmas is about as empty as you can feel. It’s like trying to enjoy the last cigarette before your execution.
Hotel, 5 p.m.
Just got back…Li (a girl) looked horrified when she saw me. I think the tangles in my hair and the days of growth on my face add to my homeless look. Anyway I bought a beautiful Chinese table for my dining room…cherry wood, pearl cherry blossom…quite the cliché to be honest but I like it. I ordered some food and I’m getting ready to go out tonight…
9 p.m.
Just woke up passed out facedown on the bed with a bottle of Jack and a steak next to me. I guess they just brought my room service in. I wonder what they thought.
DECEMBER 21TH, 1987
Hotel, Hong Kong, 1 p.m.
Well last night was an interesting evening…an exercise in excess…
Mr. Udo, Doc and myself had a few drinks in the bar and went off to a club that’s actually a brothel. There were two ballrooms, two bands playing–I can’t believe I’m in Hong Kong and I heard a band play a Mötley song in a whorehouse. We were escorted (no pun intended) to a private booth where we had 4 bottles of Cristal, 2 bottles of Jack, 1 bottle of vodka and huge plates of food…this is one of those things I have to write down…
So this is how it worked…there were beautiful girls walking around with number tags on them. You tell the madam what number you want and any special requests (a white dress, black boots or anything else that takes your fancy)…in other words they are there to please on every level. At one point I noticed Number 800…fucking 800 girls to pick from! I picked about 8 numbers and the evening began. They will take you in the back but for a few extra American dollars they will meet you at your hotel so I remember asking the madam if I could have a girl in a nun’s habit with army boots and seeing Doc wince…he probably knew this was just the tip of the iceberg. Well, I got the nun outfit organized but they had no army or more importantly Nazi boots to add to the mix…the other girls were run-of-the-mill whores…perfect as imperfection could be…
My real intention was to find drugs and lo and behold (after all isn’t that what strippers and whores are really for?) a gram of junk is 100 bucks…beats the 500 I pay at home…so I got a gram of coke and a quarter of china white (easy to sniff)…as the evening wore on I decided to grab the girls and go back to the hotel…but not before I sent a bunch of girls to Mr. Udo’s room. Funny how when I do nice things I always seem to step in shit…Doc called this morning saying that Mr. Udo was insulted…fucking hell…just when I thought things were going good…
Well the kicker to the story is I woke up with all my clothes on and all my money and drugs gone…I have no idea what happened and I guess I don’t care. Doc nervously asked me to go back to LA…this is my chance to ditch the fucking No Fun Police, so I agreed. Good news, we’re on different flights, so I ain’t gonna make my flight…once Doc and Mr. Udo are in the air I’m grabbing Li and heading out…
DOC McGHEE: Nikki sent prostitutes to my door and to Mr. Udo’s door. They turned up in the middle of the night. As a parting joke when I left the club I’d said to Nikki, “Don’t send us any girls in Nazi helmets and Gestapo boots,” and he must have thought I meant it because they turned up in helmets but not the boots. As I opened my door to them, Mr. Udo called me and said, “Nikki has sent three girls to my room!” Poor Udo was out of his mind. I had to do a buyout and give the women some money just to go away.
2:30 p.m.
I have a 9 p.m. flight tonight–not that I’ll be catching it, ha ha! Doc has a 6 p.m. and Mr. Udo is leaving now. I need to find a bank, I don’t have any cash but at least those fucking whores didn’t steal my credit cards…
I guess I should call home. I haven’t called in weeks…
7 p.m.
I’m alone. It’s not nice…
Waves of depression come over me, then anger, then disinterest. I’m already drunk, I guess, if half a bottle of Jack is drunk. I actually don't feel anything, but maybe that’s just me. I’m going out tonight to walk around. I don’t have any plans. I leave tomorrow and I’m sure Doc will have a fucking coronary when he finds out I didn't make my flight.
I told Li not to tell anybody or I’d have to kill her. Then I smiled…she didn’t…
I put a call in to Abdul…he’s gonna meet me at LAX tomorrow. I’m having a limo pick him up and I told him to bring a precooked Persian shot with him. I can’t wait…my mouth is watering…at least it shuts up the screams.
DECEMBER 22TH, 1987
Hotel, Hong Kong, 4 a.m.
I’ve been back a few hours. I’m bored…nothing happened. I think Li was steering me away from anything that would put her job on the line. The only thing of interest was I was walking down a street and I looked down an alley and saw an old guy sitting with one single light on next to steam rising out of the gutter. I asked Li what it was and she said it’s a fortune-teller. So I said, Cool, let’s go talk to him. We walked down the s
treet and up to the old man who looked at me and then at Li and then back at me. He sorta looked freaked out. That’s OK, I’m used to it…but I didn’t expect what came next.
They started chattering in Chinese, back and forth, and then Li announced he didn't want to do my fortune. I said, Look, isn’t that his job? She said that I wouldn’t like what he had to tell me. I said I would and he slowly reached for my dirty hand and looked in my eyes then spoke to Li. She said, “He says if you don’t change your ways you won’t live until the end of the year.” I said to tell him, “Thank You…that gives me a week longer than I expected.”
He looked at me, old and tired, and said 3 or 4 words softly to Li. She said he was serious. I said “Thank You” and asked Li if those guys were just part of the tourist traps in Hong Kong. She looked sad and said, Nikki, they are never wrong. Then she said, Maybe we can go back to the hotel, you have an early flight. I agreed, if only out of boredom…
Goodnight…
On the plane to LA, noon
I’m on the plane…we just took off. I feel good. Slept well and took a shower but didn’t have a comb to get the knots in my hair out so I think I probably look even worse. These leather pants really feel slimy. It’s worse to be clean in dirty clothes, it’s like I’m wearing a homeless person’s clothes. I have a blanket on my legs to cover up the odor. I had breakfast and coffee, almost like a normal person. I have a couple Halcions in my jacket somewhere…think I’ll sleep all the way to LA.
5 p.m.
I’m not sure what day it is…is it the 23rd or still the 22nd? But I just got asked to raise my tray up–we’re landing in LA. I hope Abdul is here. I left messages for Robbin and Slash asking them if they want to go out…I forgot to call Karen.
