Showing posts with label hunter s. thompson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hunter s. thompson. Show all posts
Monday, 29 June 2015
Hunter S. Thompson - "The Great Shark Hunt"
Collection of essays. Some better than others. Good read.
Tuesday, 12 August 2014
Hunter S. Thompson - "Hell's Angels - A strange and terrible saga"
"The girls stood quietly in a group, wearing tight slacks, kerchiefs and sleeveless blouses or sweaters, with boots and dark glasses, uplift bras, bright lipstick and the wary expressions of half- bright souls turned mean and nervous from too much bitter wisdom in too few years."
After just 30 pages it is already a wonderful read, clearly showing his markmanship. Yes, people will always remember him as a crazy dope fiend, but he had 100% journalist blood running through his veins. He disects the media circus and the events in a wonderful way.
"There is not much mental distance between a feeling of having been screwed and the ethic of total retaliation, or at least the kind of random revenge that comes with outraging the public decency."
"But in a society with no central motivation, so far adrift and puzzled with itself that its President feels called upon to appoint a Committee on National Goals, a sense of alientaion is likely to be very popular - especially among people young enough to shrug off the ugilt they're supposed to feel for devaiting from a goal or purpose they never understood in the first place. Let the old people wallow in the shame of having failed. The laws they made to preserve a myth are no longer pertinent; the so-called American Way begins to seem like a dike made of cheap cement, with many more leaks than the law has fingers to plug. America has been breeding mass anomie since the ned of World War II. It is not a political thing, but the sence of new realities, of urgency, anger and sometimes desperation in a society where even the highest authorities seem to grasping at straws."
"But with the throttle screwed on there is only the barest margin, and no room at all for mistakes. It has to be done right… and that's when the strange music starts, when you stretch your luck so far that fear becomes exhilaration and vibrates along your arms. You can barely see at a hundred; the tears blow back so fast that they vaporize before they get to your ears. The only sounds are wind and a dull roar floating back from the mufflers. You watch the white line and try to lean with it… howling through a turn to the right, then to the left and down the long hill to Pacifica… letting off now, watching for cops, but onlyuntil the next dark stretch and another few seconds on the edge… The Edge… There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. The other - the living - are those who pushed their control as far as they felt they could handle it, and then pulled back, or slowed down, or did whatever they had to when it came time to choose between Now and Later.
But the edge is still Out there. Or maybe it's In. The association of motorcycles with LSD is no accident of publicity. They are both a means to an end, to the place of definitions."
An amazing read, because the intensity of his voice works so well to power the story, to bring you the intensity of those moments that us citizens never get to experience.
After just 30 pages it is already a wonderful read, clearly showing his markmanship. Yes, people will always remember him as a crazy dope fiend, but he had 100% journalist blood running through his veins. He disects the media circus and the events in a wonderful way.
"There is not much mental distance between a feeling of having been screwed and the ethic of total retaliation, or at least the kind of random revenge that comes with outraging the public decency."
"But in a society with no central motivation, so far adrift and puzzled with itself that its President feels called upon to appoint a Committee on National Goals, a sense of alientaion is likely to be very popular - especially among people young enough to shrug off the ugilt they're supposed to feel for devaiting from a goal or purpose they never understood in the first place. Let the old people wallow in the shame of having failed. The laws they made to preserve a myth are no longer pertinent; the so-called American Way begins to seem like a dike made of cheap cement, with many more leaks than the law has fingers to plug. America has been breeding mass anomie since the ned of World War II. It is not a political thing, but the sence of new realities, of urgency, anger and sometimes desperation in a society where even the highest authorities seem to grasping at straws."
"But with the throttle screwed on there is only the barest margin, and no room at all for mistakes. It has to be done right… and that's when the strange music starts, when you stretch your luck so far that fear becomes exhilaration and vibrates along your arms. You can barely see at a hundred; the tears blow back so fast that they vaporize before they get to your ears. The only sounds are wind and a dull roar floating back from the mufflers. You watch the white line and try to lean with it… howling through a turn to the right, then to the left and down the long hill to Pacifica… letting off now, watching for cops, but onlyuntil the next dark stretch and another few seconds on the edge… The Edge… There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. The other - the living - are those who pushed their control as far as they felt they could handle it, and then pulled back, or slowed down, or did whatever they had to when it came time to choose between Now and Later.
But the edge is still Out there. Or maybe it's In. The association of motorcycles with LSD is no accident of publicity. They are both a means to an end, to the place of definitions."
An amazing read, because the intensity of his voice works so well to power the story, to bring you the intensity of those moments that us citizens never get to experience.
Monday, 12 May 2014
Hunter S. Thompson - "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas - A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream"
"My blood is too thick for California: I have never been able to properly explain myself in this climate. Not with the soaking sweats... wild red eyeballs and trembling hands."
"Every now and then when your life gets complicated and the weasels start closing in, the only real cure is to load up on heinous chemicals and then drive lik a bastard from Hollywood to Las Vegas. To relax, as it were, in the womb of the desert sun. Just roll the roof back and screw it on, grease the face with white tanning butter and move out with the music at top volume, and at least a pint of ether."
"But our trip was different. It was a classic affirmation of everything right and true and decent in the national character. It was a gross, physical salute to the fantastic possibilities of life in this country - but only for those with true grit. And we were chock full of that."
"Every now and then when your life gets complicated and the weasels start closing in, the only real cure is to load up on heinous chemicals and then drive lik a bastard from Hollywood to Las Vegas. To relax, as it were, in the womb of the desert sun. Just roll the roof back and screw it on, grease the face with white tanning butter and move out with the music at top volume, and at least a pint of ether."
"But our trip was different. It was a classic affirmation of everything right and true and decent in the national character. It was a gross, physical salute to the fantastic possibilities of life in this country - but only for those with true grit. And we were chock full of that."
Saturday, 26 April 2014
Friday, 25 April 2014
Fear and Loathing in Gonzovision
Ralph Steadman is the guy who drew the amazing pictures for Thompson's articles.
Cool documentary. Had seen it before, in CA, but still rings true.
Cool documentary. Had seen it before, in CA, but still rings true.
Thursday, 1 August 2013
Hunter S. Thompson - "Kingdom of Fear"
Amazing read of rants and columns. I keep being amazed by how much about politics he knows. And he says so: once you get sucked inside...
Saturday, 4 May 2013
the Rum Diary
was looking forward to this one a lot. Had the cubra libre, had the heaven of no companionship.
It was alright. I enjoyed it, but could not shake the feeling they tried too hard. Too much Fear and Loathing (the side kick!), too much weirdness, but it was Holllywood weirdness, planned weirdness, and it didn't work that much.
I *did* enjoy it, and it wasn't a failure. Just not what I expected.
It was alright. I enjoyed it, but could not shake the feeling they tried too hard. Too much Fear and Loathing (the side kick!), too much weirdness, but it was Holllywood weirdness, planned weirdness, and it didn't work that much.
I *did* enjoy it, and it wasn't a failure. Just not what I expected.
Monday, 5 March 2012
Tuesday, 28 February 2012
Buy the ticket, take the ride
"a supreme, Southern gentleman"
"interesting times have been the oldest of curses, and mazes have monsters in them too." (narrator)
Shotgun golf: whiskey, golf & shotgun; sshooting the ball out of the sky; fair game.
Kentucky Derby: wanted to find the face behind the decadence. Went shitfaed for a week then looked at himself and Ralph (his lawyer) and knew; this is the depraved ecadence. It is us.
He would always last forever, because he was always real, real gone.
He gives us a reason to continue, or at least, a damn good alibi.
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