In 2003, my favourite musician ever committed suicide. At least, it's though he did. Either way, he left decades too early, leaving behind a recorded catalogue that would rival any.
And now, in 2005, my favourite writer ever did the same, apparently. It's some comfort that he was 67, leaving behind decades of the best words ever put down on paper. From politics, to drugs, to what he wrote about best - the death of dreams, and the ugliness that lurks everywhere - Hunter S. Thompson was everything that writers should aspire to.
I hope he had a good reason. I hope he had cancer. I hope he had heart disease. I wish he hadn't given up within a fight. He still had it. And he had it until he pulled that trigger. But thankfully for anyone who has read his work, the many books he's written have still got it.
PS I'm off to India now. See you when I get back!
And now, in 2005, my favourite writer ever did the same, apparently. It's some comfort that he was 67, leaving behind decades of the best words ever put down on paper. From politics, to drugs, to what he wrote about best - the death of dreams, and the ugliness that lurks everywhere - Hunter S. Thompson was everything that writers should aspire to.
I hope he had a good reason. I hope he had cancer. I hope he had heart disease. I wish he hadn't given up within a fight. He still had it. And he had it until he pulled that trigger. But thankfully for anyone who has read his work, the many books he's written have still got it.
PS I'm off to India now. See you when I get back!
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have fun!!!!!!!!!!!!!