Well shit, I just learned that the H.S. Thompson has set sail for the last time, and that the bastard did himself in in the only way that his legend would allow: by his own hand.
I learned Hunter's fate at the tail end of a six pack with an episode of C.O.P.S. playin' on the T.V., a show I hate and never actually watch. I was just too lazy to change the channel and wasn't really payin' attention to it anyway. Just noise to smooth out the noise.
It's weird (appropriate). I don't usually identify with celebrity deaths, and I don't usually bother to note my surroundings when I hear about 'em. But this one is different. This one I'll remember. The only other one that comes readily to mind is when Princess Di died, and that had nothing to do with an affinity for royalty or celebrity. When I heard about her death I was in a shithole motel in Seattle waiting for a friend of mine to bring me the first weed that I'd smoked in weeks. At that point, I had a serious jones goin' on, I hadn't spoken face-to-face with anyone I knew for weeks. At that point, the minutes of my life were indelible. And so, waiting for Gunther to show up, I hear that a famous woman has died (and a young one at that) in a car crash. Because of where I was, It stuck with me.
This time, circumstances are different. The past that I associate with a love for Gonzo Journalism are, well, not really gone. Just assimilated. I still drink. I still smoke. I still play cards. But it's all done with an eye on the clock now. It's all done with an eye on the lines, making sure to stay within, with a serious awareness of what's outside. I won't say 'older and wiser' 'cause shit, that just sounds bitter. But I will say 'smart enough not to cry over it'. 'Cause, man, that's where I'm at right now I guess.
Mr. Thompson, Hunter, I really hope that things work out for you in the next world and that your shit got gotten together before the bullet made its final mark. We're gonna miss you, you bastard. We already did.
A'yup,
I learned Hunter's fate at the tail end of a six pack with an episode of C.O.P.S. playin' on the T.V., a show I hate and never actually watch. I was just too lazy to change the channel and wasn't really payin' attention to it anyway. Just noise to smooth out the noise.
It's weird (appropriate). I don't usually identify with celebrity deaths, and I don't usually bother to note my surroundings when I hear about 'em. But this one is different. This one I'll remember. The only other one that comes readily to mind is when Princess Di died, and that had nothing to do with an affinity for royalty or celebrity. When I heard about her death I was in a shithole motel in Seattle waiting for a friend of mine to bring me the first weed that I'd smoked in weeks. At that point, I had a serious jones goin' on, I hadn't spoken face-to-face with anyone I knew for weeks. At that point, the minutes of my life were indelible. And so, waiting for Gunther to show up, I hear that a famous woman has died (and a young one at that) in a car crash. Because of where I was, It stuck with me.
This time, circumstances are different. The past that I associate with a love for Gonzo Journalism are, well, not really gone. Just assimilated. I still drink. I still smoke. I still play cards. But it's all done with an eye on the clock now. It's all done with an eye on the lines, making sure to stay within, with a serious awareness of what's outside. I won't say 'older and wiser' 'cause shit, that just sounds bitter. But I will say 'smart enough not to cry over it'. 'Cause, man, that's where I'm at right now I guess.
Mr. Thompson, Hunter, I really hope that things work out for you in the next world and that your shit got gotten together before the bullet made its final mark. We're gonna miss you, you bastard. We already did.
A'yup,