The Heroin Diaries: A Year in the Life of a Shattered Rock Star
So, you loved
The Dirt: Confessions of the World's Most Notorious Rock Band, the tell-all story of MOTLEY CRUE, the world most self-destructive band? Well, since everyone involved was so high on blow, groupies and fame, most of those stories ended up being half-remembered, who-can-top-who tales of on-the-road debauchery. But what if there was a document from those times that told the story as it happened? That’s what Nikki Sixx has produced in
The Heroin Diaries.
Taken from the bassist’s actual journal from Christmas 1986 to Christmas 1987, Sixx gives a glimpse of the toll the Hammer of the Gods-lifestyle took on his body and psyche. He tells of how he was actually two people: Nikki (who was interested in writing songs and selling millions of records) and Sikki (who’s hobbies included hallucinating and throwing his own mother out of an arena while on tour). There are many of the entries in the book are written in a closet in Sixx’s house with a floor covered in needles then hours later, he would get into a private jet, where he’s served lines of cocaine on a sliver tray with a lid by a stewardess.
This could have been your standard rock bio of triumph over addiction. But what makes it compelling is the fact that Sixx has so many chances at getting over his addiction, but constantly lets his demons take over. He even goes to rehab at one point, during which the journal entries become surprisingly introspective, only to turn into a self-loathing drug animal almost a month later.
The book features commentary by his bandmates and managers, who give perspective on the stories and general insanity in his life, but also by other big musical names who were there like Rick Nielsen, Slash and Bob Rock. But the only unwelcome voice is ex-Prince vixen (and ex-Sixx girlfriend) Vanity, who is now a born-again preacher. Her non-sensensical ramblings about how God stopped her from her continuing to free-base cocaine and end her destructive ways (both of which nearly ruined her and Sixx) will make you give up on Sixx’s tale of redemption. At one point, Sixx himself follow one of her rants with a simple, “Huh?” I had the same reaction, and so will you.
The book is designed almost like a graphic novel. While it’s cool to see the words look like their original type, the illustrations become a bit much. There are so many pages of syringes filled with blood being stuck into various body parts, it looks like a angry med student’s doodles during a boring class. Sixx tells us that he jammed needles into his every body part (including his penis), but does almost every page need to show it?
Everyone loves a good rock and roll debauch memoir, and this one doesn’t disappoint on the backstage babylon scale. But how many “I had to die twice to get myself together” books have you read? If you check this one out, you’ll get the real “Dirt.”
