An Open Letter To Duff McKagan
Hello Duff, Raz Cue here. How’s it going, buddy? Long time! First let me say, your fans have been warm and supportive of my book. For that, I am forever thankful. It was fun while it lasted. I feel compelled to ask you a few questions. Remember, not too long ago, when you said this? […]
Rolling Along 1981
Getting Loaded On an Airplane. Spoiler Alert: That’s Not Me! And so, back to the real world to witness years fly by from a seated position. Pops’ newest house had a pool in the backyard, which my therapists thought was great. By simultaneously providing buoyancy and resistance, pool therapy is the best exercise for gimp […]
Bad Luck is Luck Too 1980
The Actual Swimming Pool, Hawaii Kai, Hawaii [Google Earth] Monday afternoon, I caught a downtown bus to grab my final paycheck. It was far less tense with Pops away, so I hung out long enough to burn a few bowls and shoot the shit with the kitchen guys. In case he had a spy, I […]
Behind The Orange Curtain 1980
A midnight drive south in Pops’ Lincoln Mark V delivered a far scruffier Raz back behind the Orange Curtain. We hadn’t spoken the entire – year and a half, six schools, and felony conviction – time I lived with Ma, so we spent three minutes catching up before the stern talk about his rules: “Right […]
Wild Child 1979-80
A day later, I sprang from Ma’s Kawasaki KZ 750 twin, semi-eager to enroll at my newest school. Ralph Waldo Emerson Junior High boasts several illustrious alumni, but a girl named Norma Jeane Baker attended decades before me and tops the list. South of the campus, a golden trumpeter sat atop the Mormon Temple, and […]
The Best Days of My Youth 1975-78
We rented a place at “Our Town Apartments.” The mega-complex, billed as “A Place for Kids and Their Families,” sat right across the street from Orange Coast College. It sported a community center with pool tables, swimming pool, BBQs, and a “Teen Center.” Pops had Mondays off, and we’d play pool or go see movies […]
The First Few Lessons 1965-74
February 1965 – a baby boy they called Rached entered this world ass-first, screaming like thunder. Not from the smack on my bottom, but because the doctor yanked me from a warm, moist environment I had grown quite fond of. My resistance to the world broke my fucking arm and I spent the first five […]