Red Hot Drug Addict

 I like old Red Hot Chili Peppers. Blood Sugar Sex Magik was the last good release as far as I'm concerned, and that's pushing my tolerance limit. In the past I've been able to see the band perform, and it was a damn fine show. When I read that Anthony Kiedis had written and published an autobiography called Scar Tissue I knew I had to read it. It came out in 2005. Only took me 16 years to get around to it. I could have waited 16 more.

I don't hate the book. It's just that it is the same old junkie story, but the cycle of addiction is fragmented by Hollywood stars, worldwide performances, and unamusing tales of what it was like to grow up with Kiedis' father. See Anthony at four years of age get pot smoke blown in his face by dear old dad! See a teen Anthony request to have sex with his dad's girlfriend . . . and dad obliges and seems to watch! See Anthony, not surprisingly, get hooked on drugs and lie to friends, family, and loved ones. Rinse and repeat. I used to find Kiedis to be an interesting singer with his own unique style. Now? Not so much.

Dennis Cooper has written this tale better and in a far more interesting manner. 

Maybe someday I can revisit this book with less judgmental eyes. Unfortunately, it's such a stale tale of woe, that I fear it will never seem fresh and exciting. It will always be a swamp of misfortune and needles. I've known too many junkies. Been lied to too many times. It doesn't matter if they are rich or poor. Functioning or not. It's always the same damn thing. Junkies poison that which they touch. It's not a miracle the Red Hot Chili Peppers lasted as long as they did. It's luck. Pure and simple. Dice were rolled. The result turned out to be positive. There are thousands of other dice rolls that end in public toilets with a needle stuck in the arm. Gruesome performance art to a live lived poorly.

There are lessons to be learned here. They are lessons you already know. Parents can fuck up their children. Drugs lead to destruction. Rock stars sleep with underage girls. This should have been more. Even at its most revealing, there is still so much hidden that you can't help but wonder if Kiedis is still lying to himself and others. The reveals don't reveal. The conceals do, however. The end result is more knee scrape than scar tissue. 

I no longer care much about the Red Hot Chili Peppers. The music is a comprised of memories. This book surely didn't rekindle a love affair, either. It just cemented my anger. Your mileage may differ.

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