Authors: Ozzy Osbourne;Chris Ayres
Tags: #Autobiography, #General, #Biography & Autobiography, #Biography, #Entertainment & Performing Arts, #Personal Memoirs, #England, #Ozzy, #Osbourne, #Composers & Musicians - Rock, #Genres & Styles - Heavy Metal, #Rock Music, #Composers & Musicians - General, #Rock musicians, #Music, #Heavy Metal, #1948-, #Genres & Styles, #Composers & Musicians
I Am Ozzy (43 page)
It ain't a bad life, put it that way.
And I keep myself busy. For example, I'm going to take my driving test again. I mean, I've been driving for the best part of forty years - but never legally and usually drunk. So I might as well do it properly before I pop my clogs. Mind you, my driving instructor wants me to learn in a car with two steering wheels. Bollocks to that. I said to the guy, 'We're doing it in my Range Rover or we're not doing it at all.' But after the last lesson we had, I wouldn't be surprised if he turns up next week in a crash helmet. He thinks I'm crazy, that bloke. Every time I go around a corner, he flinches like I'm gonna play chicken with an eighteen-wheeler.
I suppose it's understandable, given the crazy things they've said about me over the years. 'He bit the head off a bat.' OK. 'He bit the head off a dove.' Fair enough. But I ain't a puppy-killer, or a Devilworshipper, or someone who wants his fans to blow their heads off. It haunts me, all that crazy stuff. People embellish the stories, y'know? It's like kids in a schoolyard: one of them says, 'Johnny's cut his finger,' but by the time it's reached the other side of the playground, Johnny's cut his fucking head off.
Nowadays, when I'm at home, I draw pictures while listening to old Beatles albums on my headphones. They're just doodles, really. I ain't good at it. I just do patterns and fuck around and make crazy shapes in bright colours - like sixties Pop Art. It keeps me out of trouble. Oh, and I collect Nazi memorabilia. I've got flags, SS daggers, leather overcoats, everything - but I don't get many chances to put up the swastikas, not with a half Jewish missus. Most of the stuff I buy eventually finds its way to Lemmy, who's even more into it than I am.
You should see his house, man. It's like a museum.
These days, I spend much more time with my family than I ever did when I was drinking. Aimee, Kelly and Jack are doing great. And I see Jess and Louis all the time now, too. They both got Thelma's brains: Jess is a surveyor and Louis got a law degree. Between them, they've given me four grandchildren, which is a crazy thought. And I still talk to my older sister Jean every Sunday. 'Anything to report?' I always ask her. 'Everyone doing OK?'
Things are OK with Black Sabbath, but at the moment there's an issue over who owns the name. My position is that we should all own it equally. We'll see what happens, but I hope it gets resolved, 'cos I have the greatest respect for Tony Iommi. I haven't spoken to Geezer for a while - he's still always got his nose in a book - but I've kept in touch with Bill. He's been clean and sober for twenty-five years now. And if you'd known him a quarter of a century ago, you'd know that's nothing short of a miracle.
As for me, I just want to spend the rest of my days being a rock 'n' roller. I certainly don't want to do any more telly, except for a few ads here and there, as long as they're funny. Y'know, I used to get upset by people not understanding me, but I've made a career out of it now. I even ham it up a bit, 'cos it's what people expect of me.
I suppose the one ambition I have left is to get a number one album in America. But if it doesn't happen, I can't really complain. I've managed to do just about everything else. I mean, I'm so grateful that I'm
me
, that I'm here, that I can still enjoy the life that I have.
If I don't live a day longer, I'll have had more than my fair share. The only thing I ask is that if I end up brain-dead in a hospital somewhere, just pull the plug, please. But I doubt it'll get to that. Knowing me, I'll go out in some stupid way. I'll trip on the doorstep and break my neck. Or I'll choke on a throat lozenge. Or a bird will shit on me and give me some weird virus from another planet. Look what happened with the quad bike: I'd been taking lethal combinations of booze and drugs for decades but it was riding over a pothole in my back garden at two miles an hour that nearly killed me.
Don't get me wrong: I don't worry about that kind of heavy-duty stuff on a daily basis. I've come to believe that everything in life is worked out in advance. So whenever bad shit happens, there ain't nothing you can do about it. You've just gotta ride it out. And eventually death will come, like it comes to everyone.
I've said to Sharon: 'Don't cremate me, whatever you do.' I want to be put in the ground, in a nice garden somewhere, with a tree planted over my head. A crabapple tree, preferably, so the kids can make wine out of me and get pissed out of their heads.
As for what they'll put on my headstone, I ain't under any illusions.
If I close my eyes, I can already see it:
Ozzy Osbourne, born 1948. Died, whenever.
He bit the head off a bat.
My darling wife Sharon, who has always been there for me - I love you. My wonderful children: Aimee, Kelly, Jack, Jessica and Louis. My amazing grandchildren: Isy, Harry, Mia and Elijah. Colin and Mette Newman; I couldn't have done it without you.
To my brothers and sisters: Paul, Tony, Iris and Gillian, and not forgetting my big, wonderful sister Jean - who has always been like my other mum and not my big sister - and of course my brothers-in-law, Norman Russell and Tom and my nephew Terry.
My dear Mum and Dad, who made it all possible. Gina and Dean Mazlin and their children, Oliver and Amelia. My great friends Billy and Jen Morrison - who helped me to find my way back.
My lifetime friends in Black Sabbath: Bill Ward, who has always given me support. God bless you always. Tony Ionni and Terence 'Geezer' Butler.
To my extended family, my staff: Michael Guarracino and wife Denny and son Jesse; John Fenton and wife Sandee; Kevin Thomson; Silvana Arena; Lynn Seager; Claire Smith; David and Sharon Godman; Jude Alcala; Bob Troy; Saba; Dari; Trino; Steve and Melinda Varga, Lukey and Scarley girl (who said that?).
Very special thanks to my best friend Tony Dennis (way'ye son, cumin' have a pint, his dad's got a boat and his mam's got a bike).
My dear friends, Mrs Delores Rhoads; Pete Mertens, his wife Danielle, and daughter Phoebe; Gloria Butler; and my friend and co-producer Kevin Churk.
Antonia Hodgson, who has driven me mad to write this book. Chris Ayres, my co-author on this book. Thank you for organising my life stories into book form. I couldn't have done it without you.
Zakk and Barbaranne Wylde, my godson Jesse, Haley-Rae and Hendrix Wylde. My band: Mike Bordin and family; Merilee, Abby and Violet; Blasko and his wife Carol; Adam Wakeman and his family.
And all my four-legged angels who shit in my house every day.
*
'Other people's memories of the stuff in this book might not be the same as mine. I ain't gonna argue with 'em. Over the past forty years I've been loaded on booze, coke, acid, Quaaludes, glue, cough mixture, heroin, Rohypnol, Klonopin, Vicodin, and too many other heavy-duty substances to list in this footnote. On more than a few occasions I was on all of those at the same time. I'm not the fucking Encyclopaedia Britannica, put it that way. What you read here is what dribbled out of the jelly I call my brain when I asked it for my life story. Nothing more, nothing less...
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