How does one express the grief of a loss so profound. Words cannot do justice to a man whose words inspired, disgusted, and captivated every generation since the smooth hum of his typewriter first began. He was a genius and a quack, and he would be the first person to admit it. He was an adventurer--a seeker of truth. To some he may have been an escapist, feebly trying to run from the brutal realities of life. To most, he was an icon of revolution and free thinking. To me, Hunter S. Thompson, doctor of journalism, was nothing short of a poet and prophet. The feeling that whatever we were doing was right goes on, but that big beautiful wave has finally crashed and rolled back.
Good night, HST. May topless angels fly you to the great big poolside bar (complete with midgets carrying phones) in the sky.
Good night, HST. May topless angels fly you to the great big poolside bar (complete with midgets carrying phones) in the sky.
...As for your previous journal entry: My child's voice has become hoarse from screaming at me over and over again that where we are right now is nowhere fucking close to where we planned to be, and that I need to get my ass in gear or we will just move farther and farther away from our intended destination... I'm about ready to shove a sock in his mouth...
[Edited on Feb 22, 2005 10:44PM]
As per the reading? Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is, of course, a classic. Personally, I like Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail (letters from HST to George Stephanopolous, Clinton, etc...pretty funny). Really, just pick up anything by him and give it a couple of chapters before quitting. I assure you it will be worth the while. 'Specially if you've ever indulged in drugs and alcohol.
By the way, you're going to shove a sock in the mouth of the ethereal character in your brain? Wow, gotta let me know if that pans out (and how to do it if it does).