May we all be as evil as Hunter. In some way, in some how.
Let someone be, out there, who has such a subtle grasp of english as to be able to turn a phrase as magically as he did.
Hunter will never be copied.
Let see about Thompson...
Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, a well cherished out spoken individual. Simular in subtle way's like others that have traveled the road's he did, but all together apart, different.
He will no doubt be missed, many mourn his passing, and many are caught off gaurd and past that, some may find themselves facing a shocking discovery bare to its shattering blow. Who really would have seen this coming... no one. And yet when taken upon reflection you might find yourself amazed it never happened sooner. He did put himself through an amazing journy, and you find yourself questioning now in the wake, the subtle wake of his life he decides to take his exit... and perhaps the answer is in the surprise it's self. What better way to go then to do it at the most unexpecting time, to deliver an undescribable shock.
Whatever the reason, I along with millions miss him and mourn his passing.
When I found out I went up to my room and sat myself in frong of my mixed shrine of undecided dietys and lit a candle for him, which I will let burn until it's last bright breath...
moooootherfucker...
in my time of dyin i don` want nobody to moan
waht i want my friends to do is to fold my arms so i can die easy, jesus gonna make up my dyin bed.
galahad said:
The news shook me badly but no real surprise. Hunter did everything he did recklessly and to the extreme. He was going to leave on his own terms.
I increasingly think that it is what we should all have the guts to do.
The original loss, the death of the utopian dream, hazy as it was, which took off in the sixties, never ceased to haunt Hunter. He said it in 1971 in one comment I find heart rendering"
"We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark -- the place where the wave finally broke and rolled back."
The wave had well rolled back in 1970, as those with the right kind of eyes saw it through many prisms that year: the Isle of Wright festival, the Medicine Ball Caravan, Pink Floyd and Alice Cooper, the Grateful Dead new year concert at Winterland. The seventies came and then the eighties. It was all over.
I met and partied with Hunter and Maria in the mid eighties. Ecstasy days. The pair of giant buffalo horns on the hood of the Mitchell jeep, which Hunter eventually thrashed, alarmed the neighbors. One night we played night manager at the Mitchell theater in SF . Research for a book he did not finish. I remember how beautiful and friendly the girls were.
We lost contact afterward but I kept reading.
There will be no more of his unforgiving prose to awaken us to the hell behind the smile. There is a knot in my throat.
msacras said:
Six years ago a friend of mine gave me Fear And Loathing Las Vegas, I read it in almost one sitting. I haven't stop reading his work since then. Just last week I ordered his Hey Rube book. It 's not a shock anymore but it still hurts. He inspired me to read and write and tonight I can't write. I can't do anything but read the tribuites and threads about the Good Doctor.
It appears to me you're writing just fine, Brother.
Tried to avoid commenting, but hell, this smirnoff bottle has been a close 10th to Wild Turkey these last few days. I will never forget devouring Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas while stuck at some horrendous discount mall with my mom and aunt when I was 15. He's been in my life somehow since. I'd JUST read his latest a few weeks ago after not having read anything other than columns or sporadic comments for years before. What coincidence, as tiny and random.
The feeling I'm getting now is similar to how I felt after Bill Burroughs and Allen Ginsberg passed within about a year of each other. This feeling that, like others on this thread have said, it's time for us to stop taking shade in the shadows of these greats, and to become the lovers and warriors (in HST's words) that they all were.
Damn good he was around, and it just never did get fast enough?
I wonder about the times in which he lived, the places out in the dark at which he fired blindly hoping eventually "to hit something Evil, and feel no guilt," and the simultaneous anger and anxiety he had toward power—yet he held it like a tightened bow.
I also wish he would have waited four years, just to outlive a Bush presidency. But I comforted in knowing that he lived in his place and time, whatever that means.
athenaamazon
Titusville, FL
February 2005
FEB 22, 2005 12:39 AM