Welcome to my blog, where I promise to only post things I truly care about.
The following is an excerpt from my new memoir, Road Dog which will be published late 2017 by St. Martin’s Press. Enjoy.
“Fuck. I hate myself. Cigarette butts and mini-bottles from the mini-bar keep company with cocaine residue on the coffee table. I feel guilty. What am I doing with my life? What is life? I want to embrace it, but I’m not sure what it is, and I don’t think I know how. Maybe I’ve been running from it for so long that I’ve forgotten what it looks like. Sub-atomically, even dense matter is, for the most part, empty space. I guess that’s kind of how I feel right now, like empty space. I’m here, but I’m not, like a ghost made of flesh and blood.
I worked last night, if you can call it work. I’m a comedian. I was headlining a small venue at some hotel-casino off the strip. I’d mention the name, but what’s the difference. They’re all basically the same. Light reflecting off glittering glass walls, like risqué revue dancers in desert sequin tights, issuing promises they can’t keep. Magnificent marble floors clashing with the sounds of bells and whistles, echoing from the Super Man Slots, and the Pai-Gow Poker machines. Brilliant, dazzling, dizzying columns of light bursting into a billion pieces, seducing gamblers like mosquitoes irresistibly drawn to bug zappers. The most expensive free drinks in the world are ‘given away’ here.”