After “IWTWITW” hit the airwaves, and the accompanying video hit the internet, I quickly fell out of favor with the Hollywood elite, who were suddenly too afraid to risk being associated with a charlatan such as myself. Although that was my intention, I began to miss the lavish lifestyle I had grown accustomed to. No longer were my chicken wings flown in on a private jet from Buffalo and delivered to my door “on the house”. No longer was I sipping Courvoisier out of a golden chalice whilst my phone rang off the hook with offers to produce the next big indie band for some major label. No longer was I making love to twelve women a night and being called the re-incarnation of Errol Flynn. No longer had I a pony.
Instead I was waiting on long lines at Cluck U. on Thompson Street at 4 A.M, drinking malt liquor out of a rusty flask, getting offers to "duet" with Andy Dick, and masturbating to hentai porn at the Tasti-D-Lite, pony-less.
The mighty had indeed fallen.
So I began to sink deeper into an already dark depression, consoled only by booze, drugs and food. Then one day I told my trusty personal assistant, Diego (who stuck with me through my decline (despite frequent psychological and physical torture) in exchange for my Upper Deck Ken Griffey Jr. rookie card) to videotape me on a binge so I could get a look at what kind of monster I had become.
Thankfully, after taking a long hard look at myself in that shape, I decided it was time to clean up my act. I sobered up for a good long while (a day), and I was headed back to work when something grabbed me. It was Diego. He wanted a milkbone. Reluctantly, I fed him and headed on my way again when something else grabbed me. On the inside.
I put down my attaché case, picked up my guitar and a new song exposed itself to me. I called this song “Shame,” not only because that’s one of the words in the chorus, but because that’s what I was feeling inside at the time.
Misery is a sweet muse, my friends, and at the moment, I have a mouth full of cavities. Enjoy.