“When you start to get famous at all, a few typical things start happening: in Hollywood, if you’re out at a bar, everyone wants to buy you a drink, you can get into any club; whether you like it or not, you are suddenly a figure on the nightlife circuit. When that started happening to us, there was nothing less interesting that I could have imagined doing with my time. That Hollywood scene was the same old shit, and the more recognisable I was, the less I liked it. The amount of ‘dudes’ who wanted to ‘party with me’ had quadrupled, so I became entirely insular; looking back, it makes complete sense to me that I allowed myself to slip into a seductive heroin comfort zone. I didn’t want to go to strip clubs or look for hot chicks or otherwise exercise my newly found status. All I wanted to do was hang out at Bill’s and do drugs. It turned out to be the start of a long and nightmarish obsession with heroin that lasted from 1989 through 1991.”
The Guardian has the rest of this chapter (you really should read this too!): http://observer.guardian.co.uk/omm/story/0,,2187757,00.html
Looks like he may have a lot more to talk about than other autobio writing rockers. You know, since we don’tÂ read his stories every ten minutes online, have it re-mentioned everytimeÂ he gets in the news,Â or see it on tv just as much.Â Â Im not pointing any fingers, or talking about anyone who’s name rhymes with Micky Quicks (did you know he died once!??!!). NotÂ AT ALL.