My favorite writer died this weekend.
The first time I read Hunter S. Thompson, I was on summer break from my sophomore year in college. My friend Marc E. turned me on to him. His Humanities teacher actually had that degenerate read Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas for class that semester. Marc had Xeroxed copies of the Ralph Steadman drawings from the book all over his little efficiency on the beach. I borrowed his copy of the book, and finished it off that night.
HST had a way with words that was just Incredible. It wasn’t just the vocabulary, but the way it was presented. A capitalized word (or several run together) would demonstrate his Frenzy in just the way that made you feel you were as Delusional as he was. I once read a 500 word (or so) essay on his first acid trip. “Nobody’s really described an acid experience properly because it’s impossible to come back to one and you can’t really describe it.” (Songs Of The Doomed). Thompson was right. Nobody really could. Yet he did it. I have shamelessly ripped him off since I first became a fan.
Recently he had been writing for ESPN.com’s page 2, and he continued his brand of Gonzo journalism in the electronic medium for a new generation of fans. Can you imagine what it would have been like, had the internet existed in the 60s and 70s? Gonzo Internet? The mind shudders. I don’t think the world would have been ready for it. I don’t think it would have recovered, even today.
His wife said, in all seriousness, that “he always said he wanted to go out with a bang.” In any other context, with any other person (and this is coming from someone whose oldest brother committed suicide), this would be considered to be in Poor Taste. I have no doubt, however, that those were his words, Exactly.
New generation of fans. Strange I write that, considering I gave my old copy of Thompson’s Hell’s Angels to tattoojeff a couple weeks ago.
Thank you HST. Glasses of Chivas are being drained as I type this and the Scum are fleeing like dogs. But not Us, Jack. We laugh in the face of their cowardice and smoke fine hash from large hookahs on the floor while barrelling down the highway. When the going get weird, the weird turn pro. The fat is in the fire.
Selah.
2 responses so far ↓
Tyler // March 6, 2008 at 7:19 am |
Where does the line come from “stomp the terra” I have read too much Thompson to be able to find out the way he quoted it?
spike. // March 9, 2008 at 1:46 pm |
HST referred to “stomping terra” throughout his writing. I view it as an HSTism for “kicking ass”. Thanks for the comment!