drugs!

If you check the confusingly worded original title, you may understand why I spent a couple cycles dumbly wondering why and how you were writing for exile.ru.

I read this book, and it was pretty good considering that it is just drug-induced jibberish/journal entries, with bits of after-thoughts after each date.

i also noticed the ironically shitty title written by an assumed journalism grad who slays a book because nikki sixx isn't hunter s. thompson.

his faulty notions that because he did more coke than heroin proves he wasn't a heroin junkie and his apparent crusade to reclassify drug addicts as fun addicts is just uninformed icing on his naivety cake.

^Agreed. The guy (Dolan) is a shithat writer. Who the fuk is he that I should give a piss about his opinion?

All things considered, I'll still read the book.

his faulty notions that because he did more coke than heroin proves he wasn't a heroin junkie and his apparent crusade to reclassify drug addicts as fun addicts is just uninformed icing on his naivety cake.

I found it fairly insightful. Without having read the book, it sounds like vanity PR-porn by a has-been rocker. If he's not actually doing much heroin, why's the word in the title of the book? If he doesn't actually have any novel experiences worth relating, why is he writing one in the first place?



Who the fuk is he that I should give a piss about his opinion?

If this proposal had weight, this page would be blank.

Touché, pussycat.

'Hey, all these girls are throwing their fishgill at me and I ran out of room on my check book to write all the zeros on my account total, so, I might as well just go shoot chemicals into my nutsack until I'm flat broke or dead!'

'I found it fairly insightful. Without having read the book, it sounds like vanity PR-porn by a has-been rocker. If he's not actually doing much heroin, why's the word in the title of the book? If he doesn't actually have any novel experiences worth relating, why is he writing one in the first place?

i don't think anyone, including tommy lee who claimed the opposite in 'tommyland', has ever said that sixx didn't do that much heroin other than dolan. he refers to the excerpt: 'I'm not having [my dealer] bring smack very often but my coke intake is up 1,000%.' which could mean he rarely does it, or more likely it's an addicts way of justifying his [bad] heroin habit by gauging it next to his [better] cocaine habit. what i was saying is they're not interchangable. elvis took a shit-ton of dexadrine but sleeping pills killed him.

i don't doubt the book is a complete cockworship-egofest, but that's nothing new for a rockstar's memoirs. the fact that the entire book gets discredited because sixx 'was never a junkie' is an assanine premise disproven by history.

in my opinion.

I thought the entire book gets discredited because it's a poorly-composed loose jumble of idiocies, describing nothing of interest, intended to convey great spiritual meaning but in fact only farcically mimicking better-written things that are themselves derivative, played-out, thoroughly mainstream, or otherwise having the fagabeefe nature.

I think my eyes got twisted into a knot reading that sentence ^

Excellent writing about horrible writing.

I loved it, because I hate our celebrity culture. Bonus for bashing on the whole 'redeemed sinner' concept.

I thought the article was well written.

I like the comparison of nikki's so called pain and suffering to the american mom working at wal-mart with the broken air conditioner at home. The point that is made to me is suffering is relative, and the 'suffering' of this particular rock star can pale in comparison to the everyday suffering of millions.

Plus I fucking hate motley crue...

damn son. mad illiteracy up in this piece.

the article writer takes umbrage with the poor writing, both by nikki sixx and some random 'rock journalist.' i think we can agree that their writing is, in fact, poopies.

he notes that third party accounts are mostly total garbage. what good is testimony from friends if said friends are fucking stupid and couldn't put together a simile with all the 'likes' in the world?

he writes that nikki sixx's insane indulgences were, by and large, derivative. that is to say: he had all that money and he couldn't even think of an original way to abuse himself. he mimics other rock stars. how pathetic is that?

i think he's right to make the distinction between coke and heroin. a rockstar doing coke in the 80s is looked at as kind of a lame throwback. coke does not involve physical addiction. shit, even freud did coke. heroin, on the other hand, is still widely regarded as a fucked up drug. if a friend of yours bumps a line off a framed family photo, you might not think too much of it. if he pulls out a needle and a spoon, you might panic a bit.

he disingenuously uses heroin in the title of the book to paint a more sensationalist picture of his antics which, by the sound of it, are rote, trite, and boring.

as to whether or not a wal mart mom's suffering is greater: who knows? who fucking cares? can i never feel bad or get upset or feel entitled to shitty moods all because someone has it worse? i can't cry when my parents die, because fuck, someone in africa had their whole family die that day?

that's a fucking stupid sentiment, and it is not the author's contention. he suffered, i'm sure. i'm willing to bet that doing blow and fucking strippers can get a bit depressing sooner or later. the contention of the author is that the wal mart mom could write a book about her shitty depressing life, but it doesn't shock, or titillate, or inspire much of anything, because in the end she's still wal mart mom.

nikki sixx, on the other hand, is mildly rich and famous. his book contributes nothing else: no suffering of great consequence, no suffering of incredible magnitude, shit writing, (surely) shit documentation, no original antics, no incredible thrills.

it is packaged. it is glossy, manipulated, easily digested pap.

it is motley crue's music.

if you like one, i guess have a go at the other.

can i never feel bad or get upset or feel entitled to shitty moods all because someone has it worse? i can't cry when my parents die, because fuck, someone in africa had their whole family die that day?

Relatedly, I like the following movie trope...

Cross-ethnic group of people locked in a room together with a third-world immigrant.

Good-looking successful white guy: Damnit, my watch is broken! My excellent white grandfather gave me that watch on his death-bed! It was a family heirloom! It is now in a million pieces and unrepairable.

Third-world immigrant: Your grandfather's watch? Screw your grandfather's watch. You know what my grandfather gave me? Banana peels. I glued them to my feet with cactus sap and walked all the way from [TINY MEXICAN TOWN] to [LARGE AMERICAN JANITOR SCHOOL] just so I could send bread and jesus figurines back to my family which numbers in the thirties and who are surviving on only one jesus figurine a month. So I don't want to hear about your grandfather's watch hokay?

Good-looking successful white guy visibly deflates according to societal norms, stammers a half-apology. Audience watching this piquant social drama experience vicarious thrill of cultural guilt and resolve to care forever about folk who come in third-world hues. Good-looking successful white guy formally surrenders his ego to the will of the multi-ethnic group, who, led by wise-through-suffering third-world-immigrant, devise a way out of the room that employs all their talents while celebrating their respective national backgrounds and personal philosophies. Audience feels as though it has learned something precious about life while making important personal progress.