Over the weekend, I finished reading Slash's eponymous biography. Oh man, have you read it? The book had me hooked from the first page. There is so much debauchery in his stories, the envelope pushed over and over, way beyond what a normal stretch would be. His story is one of decadence in the midst of fragile creativity and determined drive, and the read is a wild ride. Before I picked up the book, I had respect for him as a guitar player and was intrigued by the curls pouring from his head and hiding his eyes, but I had no idea who the man was. Now that I've read his story in his own words, I know he's not the only one living his life - now I have boat loads of respect for his guardian angel, because he or she has put in overtime with that boy, that much I know. And God bless his mother.
I'm going away for four days on Wednesday and finishing Slash's book has left me at the end of my summer reading list. So today I ordered, for July 2nd arrival ,three more books: Tommyland, by none other than Slash's competition in true debauchery but Tommy Lee; Storms: My life with Lindsay Buckingham and Fleetwood Mac, by the poor woman who dated Mr. Buckingham after Stevie Nicks and before his wife. (Talk about crap timing.) The third book is, I'm with the Band, Confessions of a Groupie, a story I always wanted to tell because a groupie is something I wanted to be. Thank goodness I was never given that opportunity because, you know, I think that would be a very short career path, and besides it's not as if you can announce that goal to the school counselor, or your parents.