![]() He grew up fast, losing his virginity at age 9 or 10 to a 14-year-old local girl. She would take young James on her collecting route, and there, at the bars she worked, he got to watch the likes of Etta James, Miles Davis and John Coltrane. James and his seven siblings were raised by his single mom, who ran numbers for the mob in Buffalo. In short, Rick James lived a super freaky life, as detailed in his new, posthumously published autobiography, “Glow” (Atria Books). When he was through,” James recalled, “he said to me, ‘Ricky, meet Jim Morrison.’” Stills “gathered up bandages and gauze and took care of the guy, who remained passive throughout the ordeal. ![]() James, fearing the mystery man would bleed to death, woke Stills, who responded, “Oh, f–k. ![]() ![]() He seemed hypnotized by the flow of his own blood, saying things like, ‘Isn’t the blood beautiful? Isn’t that the deepest red you’ve ever seen?’” Rick James was crashing on Stephen Stills’ couch sometime in the late ’60s when he “awoke to see a young dude sitting on the floor in the lotus position, stoned as a motherf–ker,” with “blood dripping from his wrist. ![]()
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