I've blearily ambled to my desk here on a Monday morning to find an email from my brother in Oregon with the news about Hunter Thompson's death by suicide.
Yeah, thats sort of sudden, and it caused me a few seconds of shock, but after it sunk in, it really doesnt surprise me. Ernest Hemingway was the idol of his life, and thats how Hemingway went out. In a way, I kind of admire him for it. Death man. It sucks. Ive been thinking about it a lot lately.
I actually got to be at a party that Hunter Thompson was at once. It was about five years ago, and I was working with the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws (NORML) in Washington DC.
They were having a "Legal Conference" in Aspen, and Keith Stroup, NORML's founder who was heading the organization at that time (he just retired) asked me if I'd like to tag along. He said I could get a discount on the hotel, etc.
So my friend Moon (she was a hippy) and I rented a car and drove from DC to Aspen. Suffice it to say the whole experience was kick-ass fun.
During the conference, Keith invited me to come to a fund-raiser they were holding one night. It was at lawyer Gerry Goldstein's house. People who are very familiar with Hunter Thompson probably know about Goldstein. He is a longtime Thompson friend, and he defended Hunter against all those drugs & weapons charges in '92(?).
So Moon and I show up, the place is packed with ski bums and aging hippies & of course there's pot everywhere. We grabbed some beers and went to the very back of the house to try to find some place to get away from people. We sat on some stairs by the back door.
Not three sips into my beer, the back door opens and who walks in but the man himself. He looked just like ... well, Hunter Thompson - sunglasses, baseball hat, that multi-colored sheepherder's jacket like in the movie 'Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas,' and white Chuck's. Talk about knowing how to work a trademark.
He entered and paused and stared down at us, giving us 'a dose of the shades.' Then he moved on into the party where, needless to say, he was warmly greeted. Apparently he and Keith are old pals, which I didn't know before then.
So that was it. We hung out there in Hunter's midst all night. We didn't really converse except for the odd, 'excuse me,' or, 'can you hand me that lighter' ... stuff like that. Eventually he and Goldstein retired to a back room to snort coke and watch college basketball.
Oddly, infamous Whitewater scandal figure Webb Hubble was also at that party. Weird.
Yeah, Hunter will probably be remembered as the last great American writer. Because writing is dead. And it's probably for the best. Writing is an obsolete technology. It was only invented to facilitate communication. But who needs cumbersome, time-consuming print when you've got the internet & tv? Soon we'll just all be on the internet live 24-7, so anything anyone wants to know about, they will just be able to instantly "intuit." I just hope writing sticks around long enough for me to retire. I see myself doing something similar to what Hunter did - maybe getting a job in my twilight years at some tiny local paper in some remote Alaska village & getting a shack in the middle of nowhere 1,000 miles from the nearest human being. And I'd just sit by the window all day with a big bag of pot and a machine gun trained on the horizon, & I'd shoot anything that moved. Then when I got too feeble I'd do the honorable thing and take myself out.
me in aspen about five years ago
Yeah, thats sort of sudden, and it caused me a few seconds of shock, but after it sunk in, it really doesnt surprise me. Ernest Hemingway was the idol of his life, and thats how Hemingway went out. In a way, I kind of admire him for it. Death man. It sucks. Ive been thinking about it a lot lately.
I actually got to be at a party that Hunter Thompson was at once. It was about five years ago, and I was working with the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws (NORML) in Washington DC.
They were having a "Legal Conference" in Aspen, and Keith Stroup, NORML's founder who was heading the organization at that time (he just retired) asked me if I'd like to tag along. He said I could get a discount on the hotel, etc.
So my friend Moon (she was a hippy) and I rented a car and drove from DC to Aspen. Suffice it to say the whole experience was kick-ass fun.
During the conference, Keith invited me to come to a fund-raiser they were holding one night. It was at lawyer Gerry Goldstein's house. People who are very familiar with Hunter Thompson probably know about Goldstein. He is a longtime Thompson friend, and he defended Hunter against all those drugs & weapons charges in '92(?).
So Moon and I show up, the place is packed with ski bums and aging hippies & of course there's pot everywhere. We grabbed some beers and went to the very back of the house to try to find some place to get away from people. We sat on some stairs by the back door.
Not three sips into my beer, the back door opens and who walks in but the man himself. He looked just like ... well, Hunter Thompson - sunglasses, baseball hat, that multi-colored sheepherder's jacket like in the movie 'Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas,' and white Chuck's. Talk about knowing how to work a trademark.
He entered and paused and stared down at us, giving us 'a dose of the shades.' Then he moved on into the party where, needless to say, he was warmly greeted. Apparently he and Keith are old pals, which I didn't know before then.
So that was it. We hung out there in Hunter's midst all night. We didn't really converse except for the odd, 'excuse me,' or, 'can you hand me that lighter' ... stuff like that. Eventually he and Goldstein retired to a back room to snort coke and watch college basketball.
Oddly, infamous Whitewater scandal figure Webb Hubble was also at that party. Weird.
Yeah, Hunter will probably be remembered as the last great American writer. Because writing is dead. And it's probably for the best. Writing is an obsolete technology. It was only invented to facilitate communication. But who needs cumbersome, time-consuming print when you've got the internet & tv? Soon we'll just all be on the internet live 24-7, so anything anyone wants to know about, they will just be able to instantly "intuit." I just hope writing sticks around long enough for me to retire. I see myself doing something similar to what Hunter did - maybe getting a job in my twilight years at some tiny local paper in some remote Alaska village & getting a shack in the middle of nowhere 1,000 miles from the nearest human being. And I'd just sit by the window all day with a big bag of pot and a machine gun trained on the horizon, & I'd shoot anything that moved. Then when I got too feeble I'd do the honorable thing and take myself out.
me in aspen about five years ago
[Edited on Feb 21, 2005 3:37PM]
Sorry for being so morbid.... I just wasn't very surprised either.