Back in Germany


Well I have finally made it back to the country I grew up in. I am currently in the city of Detmold, a city I was not familiar with in the past, but find it very cool. Cool because of all the amazing buildings and history, but also literally. It is April 4th and freaking cold! Here, check out this scuture called The Apocalypse. 

  

 

We are headed to what is know as Germany’s Stonehenge. Photos to follow. 

Here, I climbed  this today!

   

   

EDS… KCCO


I was just on The Chive’s charity site filling in an application for help. I got stuck at the part where I had to show proof of my diagnosis and doctor info. Well my diagnosis is from one doctor, I have an orthopedic doctor, pain doctor and general practitioner. I can only use one doctor and some I haven’t seen for years!

I have this thing called Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. It affects people in many ways, but my hay is pain and hyper-mobility combined with severe fatigue. The connective tissues in my body don’t grow back. Joints dislocate daily and it does not feel good at all. That is me and I am gonna stop harping on it now.

I try not to ask for charity, but things are getting tough. At first I thought a cool therapy pool would work. Then I started thinking. The bane of my life… thought. I thought about how my room is a disaster area. I risk falling and dislocation a random joint every night to pee. Mom is going on 70 and taking care of her 45 years old son. Our house is falling apart because I can no longer work on it.

My father was a Vietnam vet, Purple Heart. We were lifers in the military. I joined up with the USAF, but my then unknown condition led me to an early medical release with a blown knee. These days, everything is blown.

I am in a good place right now, mom got me plane tickets to go visit home, Germany, in April and I couldn’t be happier. Who am I kidding? I spent ages 5-23 over there. I am ecstatic. I just hope my body holds up for this one last journey. I plan on having my first script finished when I return.

Reading all these inspirational letters on The Chive, seeing people set up gofundme.com accounts for people they don’t even know warms my soul. I read about a sick kid, reach for my wallet… only to remember, Government disability only pays me $635 a month.

I don’t want pity. I want a home, a safe hope. One where a 70-year-old doesn’t have to rake leaves. I want the pain to stop, it wont, but one of those hot-tub/swimming pools sounds like heaven. I am not asking for someone to start an indiegogo or gofundme page. I just wanna get out of bed once in a while, talk to mom and not worry about the house falling.

Promises broken to myself.


So last year at this time, I decided to promise myself something. Since New Years Resolutions always go bust, I just made a simple statement about how I was going to do something big the following year (2014).

Well I had all these great writing/photography gigs set up and thought this was my breakthrough year. I had a comic script I was working on, a novel and a host of other projects that would fulfill my definition of big. Well EDS and other mysterious illnesses foiled me along with my ineptitude. .

As my main talent these days is writing, I thought it was gonna be a cakewalk. Well enter unknown, bone eating whatever the fuck. Suddenly my hand, well pinkie but hand sounds better, was having its bones chomped on, and it hurt. I went to my ortho doc and he thought it was some arthritis shit. He goes in, fuses finger joints and tests to see what it was. He couldn’t find out, it was some anomaly. So I am laid up for months with some Wolverine, metal rod stuck in my finger. Typing is hard one handed people.

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Then concert gigs! Yay! I got to see the last Motley Crue tour, go backstage and meet the guys, but no press. The freaking venue didn’t allow it. Fuckers. After bragging that I would have a huge scoop, band after band PR people started… not calling me.

So this past year sucked. I have some personal plans for next  year, but I am at the fuck it stage right now. Money is tight, gotta pay for medical shit and get the hell out of debt. That is why I am selling my most prized possessions, stuff Nikki Sixx and Crue signed. I am even including the signed copy of The Heroin Diaries that has kept me clean all these years. Here is the link to the eBay auction.

As for next year? I have no clue.

My Crüe life.


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I was an American kid, growing up in Germany as a part of an army family. One day I was enjoying my second favorite pastime, skipping school. Skipping as an American kid  in Germany is much different from here in the USA. I never had to worry about truant officers, police and I could go into any pizzeria to get a beer. This was freshmen year, so I was 13 or 14 years old, grabbing a beer and eating pizza. It was Heaven.

 

After a day of drinking and roaming around 800 year old castles, we would always hit the record shop in the main train station. That is where we got our fix of rock. AFN, The Armed Forces Network, was a variety radio station. It was also the only one in English, so we listened for even the tiniest bit of rock. Whenever we heard a band’s name that we liked, it would go on my list. The tiny train station shop didn’t have much, but the ROCK bin was mine, I claimed it every  visit.

Flipping through the albums, looking at the cool artwork and guessing our way through these bands we had never heard of was a gamble. It was always hit or miss. I remember picking up this one album, black with hints of vivid color coming from the inside it’s suspect double album cover. Red letters emblazoned on black, and a barely visible pentagram done with some reflective material. “Mötley Crüe” the bands name, “Shout at the Devil” was the album. I snatched the last copy and took the train home to see what I got.

 

I got home, told mom school was fine (lie) and headed to my room. Holding SATD in my hands, I rip the plastic off, slide out the LP in the liner-notes sleeve. I lift the plastic cover off of my Hi-Fi stereo, put the record on, grab the lyrics and with headphones on (Mom hated loud music), and I heard these words…

 

 

In the beginning

Good always overpowered the evils

Of all man’s sins…

But in time

The nations grew weak

And our cities fell to slums

While evil stood strong…

In the dusts of hell

Lurked the blackest of hates

For he whom they feared

Awaited them…

Now, many many lifetimes later

Lay destroyed, beaten, beaten down

Only the corpses of rebels

Ashes of dreams

And blood-stained streets…….

And it has been written

“Those who have the youth

Have the future”

So come now, children of the beast

Be strong, And Shout at the Devil!

 

My world changed that day. I had the liner notes memorized, band members ranked in order of bad-asses. Hit Parade magazine got shredded every time Mötley Crüewere in it and the pages adorned my wall. A football jock that rode my bus stole me that black shit they put under their eyes and I would alternate between Tommy and Nikki stripes. Eyeliner, ripped jeans and even fishnet stockings from a chick I knew for gloves. Then it happened, Monsters of Rock 1984! I was going to go anyway, but the moment I saw Mötley Crüewere going  there, I was first in line at the local ticket seller.

 

I loved all the bands, but was there for Crüe! It was hard to get much news about them over there, and since the invention of the internet not even a dream yet. So Hit Parade and all the other Teen Mags were my only sources. Whenever I heard they were on tour, I was on the ticket hunt.

 

I remember seeing them three maybe four times, Tommy’s drum kit growing more and more elaborate. One show, I think it was Theater of Pain, I met Tommy without even realizing it. Pumped full of beer and wine hours before the show. I had my girlfriend with me and she had run off to get some more booze I think. The concert hall was not the biggest, but all our area had to offer that was indoors.

 

The adjoining buildings were the business offices or what not for the hall. I was sitting on the steps, away from the crowd chilling out when this van came screeching up. Out jumped this tall, skinny dude with a mess of black hair. The doors locked, and no one was around, so the guy just muttered “Fuck!”.

 

I lit a smoke, and he asked to bum one. I said, “Sure dude, no prob..” and waited in silence like all cool rock dudes did. A few minutes later, the security opens the door for this guy. I was jealous, who was he?

 

At the very moment the doors closed, my girl came back, looked through the glass doors and screamed “THAT WAS TOMMY LEE!”. I palmed my face, thinking how fucking stupid I was. Well I was about to get stupider.

 

I am not a braggart, but I was a bit of a leader with my group of rocker friends. It was getting close to showtime and all of a sudden we heard guitars. Drums. Bass. Vocals. Crüe was doing sound-check! I grabbed my crew and headed for the side of the hall. They had those double doors with the push bar on the inside and security at them all. One guard must have been a fan because he had the door cracked, checking things out.

 

I led my rocking mob in an all out assault and wedged myself in the door before it could close. Hands grabbed, I squirmed then escaped the guards grip. I burst into the empty hall, guards hot on my ass and ran in circles all the while trying to get Crüe’s attention. I don’t know if Crüe even did their own sound-checks, but I swear it was them. They stopped playing and watched me play Keystone Cops with security. I didn’t want to get caught and miss the show, so I booked. I ran through another set of those doors, through the guards and blended in with all my fellow Crüeheads.

 

The show was amazing, we were up front of the general admission crowd, crushed against the bar with my girlfriend. I was in Heaven.

 

That was my life when I lived in Germany. Part of a military family, BRATS as friends. Some I still am in touch with, but most have faded away. One special dude, Butch has passed on. I get sad thinking about him.

 

 

Flash forward to the Mötley Crüe/Poison tour. I begged and pleaded on social media for a chance to see them again. I am now a disabled vet, that means I don’t have any money, and my condition was getting worse. I feared that this would be my last chance to see them. Seth Green heard my cry.

 

After verifying that I’m a disabled veteran, Seth’s people talked to Nikki’s people, and I had VIP access! I got to meet Nikki, he signed his books, my ticket, laminate and everything I had on me. Was front row, in a safe place (disabled remember?) and rocking to my heroes again. Hadn’t felt so good in years. My condition did not exist during the show! I was so inspired.

 

I wanted to be a rock journalist/photographer, and low and behold I did it! I overcame my anxiety problems for short periods, wore my leg braces to shows and got a freelance position on a small print magazine.  My biggest moment was getting to photograph Halestorm and write an article, I got the cover.

 

Things are not getting better though. I now know that this is my last chance to not only see Mötley Crüe, but my last chance to be a journalist/photographer covering them. Nikki Sixx is the reason I am still alive. See, not only did I imitate the style, I followed my path to addiction and back.

 

Before I got to meet Nikki on that tour, my painwas tormenting me more that ever. Iwas so close to using again when I picked up my copy of The Heroin Diaries. I read it all night, remembering the hell addiction was. I didn’t want to go back to hell, I wanted to Shout at the Devil!.


So I met Nikki, got bit by the photography bug and worked as many local shows I could handle. Its stupid, but I had this Cameron Crowe/Almost Famous dream. I want to be the kid in that movie, to be Cameron Crowe. I want to write a story, firsthand, from a fans eyes of the Death of Mötley Crüe. I know I could do it, I need a publication or some other entity to take a chance and believe in me. Hire me to go on tour, write the epitaph of my lifelong heroes.

 

To be continued….

Kerri Kasem is making me quit!


Quit smoking that is. 

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Kerri Kasem has opened a new store(smoke bar?) down in Hollywood. called Good Vapor. Photos on the website look great. The place is clean and trendy and the people amazing. I recently spoke to Jesse, my nemesis in the daily struggle for Kerri’s affection (He has already won and I truly like the guy), and he gave me the rundown on all things Vapor.

They have an extensive menu of healthy alternatives to tobacco and top of the line vaporizers at very good prices. So a Pro-kit is zooming my way, and if I can stretch this last pack of cigarettes, I will soon be smoke free. No more spending $5+ a day for the sticks of death. I am totally committing myself to doing this. My health sucks as it is so doing this will make me feel so much better. I will give you my review of the vaporizer after I get it.

Don’t forget to check out my last post about her new Kasem Cares Foundation. It is a sad situation but also inspiring with the way she is fighting back. The best part about it is, you can help!

So head on down there, visit the site, call (310) 276-1788 or email them at GoodVaporBeverlyHills@Gmail.com

The address is…

Good Vapor Beverly Hills
9006 Wilshire Blvd, Beverly Hills, CA 90210
(310) 276-1788
——————————————————-
***ALSO VISIT THE HOLLYWOOD LOCATION***
Good Vapor Hollywood
5009 Hollywood Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90027
(323) 717-4663

50 wonderful followers!


Wow, 50 of you crazy people follow me, that is so insane. Don’t you know I am a crazy man? Well if you didn’t know, then you are not a true follower and you should be ashamed.

You know, if each and every one of you gave me $1000 each, I could start getting my artists paid for my upcoming comic. Is that too large a price to pay for my sporadic ramblings? I come on here once, maybe up to four times a month, and pour the insanity straight from my demented brain to you.

In all seriousness, I know 50 is not a huge number, but you all mean a lot to me. I get pretty good traffic, but you, YOU chose to “Follow”. Welcome to my cult.

Also go check out Mark McKenna and his Kickstarter (I will be doing one soon as I figure out a few more story details) Combat Jacks 2: The Continuing Saga

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Australia! An extra DEATH on the barbie.


Growing up in Europe, I had the once in a lifetime opportunity to travel to many countries and experience their cultures. At the age of 16-17, I grabbed my backpack and over the course of a few years (we took sporadic breaks back home) friends and I made a circuit from Germany to the north through Norway,  Denmark and down through Amsterdam. From there we made our way to Paris, begging and busking to pay our way to the south of France. It was a little coastal town between Cannes and Nice called Antibes. All the rich movie stars would dock massive mega-yachts there because of the proximity to Cannes and Nice. Odd jobs were easily created in the form of scraping barnacles off these behemoths.

As the weather started to get colder, we migrated to Spain. I would read Tarot cards on the beach for tourists and pretty much scam them by telling them what they wanted to hear. Crossing Gibraltar to Morocco, hoping over Libya to Egypt and up through Bali and the Maldives to hit India, the USSR and finally back to Germany. It was an adventure of a lifetime.

There were nights sleeping in abandoned  bomb shelters from WW2 to escape tremendous storms, dangerous wildlife and Soviet troops eyeing us with suspicion. We survived and a passion for travel was born. When asked, “Where is your dream place to visit before you die?”, I would say “Australia mate!”. I still do want to go there, but if I ever go I want a guide/bodyguard. Have you seen all the things that can kill you over there?

Cracked always has list articles and hardly a week goes by without a list of 6-10 animals that can kill you in under 3 minutes flat. The native language there has to be SCREAMING. My passion for going there is slowly being eroded by the warm trickle down my leg when I read more about the local fauna. Here is my list of “Scary ass monsters of Australia.”.

  1. Saltwater Crocodile. Big, stealthy death mouths that will eat you. EAT YOU!mn_croc_attack_xtpe801
  2. Freaking SHARKS! Remember Jaws? Spielberg should have made the film there to save on that fake shark that never worked.
  3. Sticking with the water, Box Jellyfish. Before you say pee on it, that is a myth bro. These blobs KILL.
  4. Shit fucking SPIDERS. The Sydney Funnel Web, Bird Eating Tarantula and the TrapDoor Spider. I think ONE of these wont kill you, but I will not take the chance. FUCK SPIDERS in their spider-butts.
  5. Dick SNAKES. There is no Dick snake, but the Coastal Taipan (most venomous snake on EARTH), the King Brown and the Tiger Snake. Too many snakes. FUCK them. No don’t do that, it is illegal and deadly.
  6. Blue-Ringed Octopus. Seafood that KILLS. Is that barbie hot yet?
  7. Australian Paralysis Tick. A TICK (SPOON!) that will paralyze you!
  8. Stonefish. Some of the symptoms that could lead up to the possible death may include such timeless classics as: intense pain lasting up to 12 hours, nausea, tremors, abnormal heartbeats, seizures and paralysis. And just look at it. stone
    Australia has wonderful people, at least one will say this to you if you run into anyone of these monsters,  “Oh, relax mate! He’s not gonna hurtcha!”. Crazy Aussies I love you but you’re gonna have to kill a bunch of shitty creatures before we cuddle.