I was waking up and the phone rang. It was a friend in Kentucky, Joe Petro the Third. They always have to have descendants. He said: ‘Take your phone of the hook. Hunter just put a bullet from a Magnum .44 through his brain. It’s the death of fun, Ralph.’
Hunter always said to me that he would feel trapped in this life if he didn’t know that he could commit suicide at any moment. He was the greatest person I ever met in my life.
”—Ralph Steadman when asked if he remembered what he was doing when he heard Hunter S. Thompson had committed suicide (via nostalgiache)
“And now look at me: half-crazy with fear, driving 120 miles an hour across Death Valley in some car I never even wanted. You evil bastard! This is your work! You’d better take care of me, Lord…because if you don’t you’re going to have me on your hands.”—Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (via jtxdz)
In 1956, not long after enlisting with the United States Air Force, 19-year-old Hunter S. Thompson landed a job as Sports Editor for The Command Courier, Elgin Air Force Base’s newspaper, and immediately began to ruffle feathers. The memo below was sent the next year, at which point his exaggerated reporting and rebellious attitude were causing problems.
A few months after the memo was sent, Thompson was relieved of his duties at the paper. Just before leaving, keen to have the last word, he drew up a fictional news release and had it published in the Courier.
“Living on pills, phone calls unmade, people unseen, pages unwritten, money unmade, pressure piling up all around to make some kind of breakthrough and get moving again. Get the gum off the rails, finish something, croak this awful habit of not ever getting to the end - of anything.”—Hunter S. Thompson, Songs of the Doomed (via kamslow)
“The patio was crowded, so we sat inside at the snack bar. All around us were people I had spent ten years avoiding—shapeless women in wool bathing suits, dull-eyed men with hairless legs and self-conscious laughs, all Americans, all fearsomely alike. These people should be kept at home, I thought; lock them in the basement of some goddamn Elks Club and keep them pacified with erotic movies; if they want a foreign vacation, show them a foreign art film; and if they still aren’t satisfied, send them into the wilderness and run them with vicious dogs.”— from The Rum Diary by Hunter S. Thomspon (via chronicles)
“I took a fast right on Russell, then a left onto Maryland Parkway…and suddenly I was cruising in warm anonymity past the campus of the University of Las Vegas…no tension on these faces; I stopped at a red light and got lost, for a moment, in a sunburst of flesh in the cross-walk: fine sinewy thighs, pink mini-skirts, ripe young nipples, sleeveless blouses, long sweeps of blonde hair, pink lips and blue eyes- all the hallmarks of a dangerously innocent culture.”—Hunter S. Thompson (Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas)
Hello. I love you. I have no faith in that word. But, I have faith in you. The Rum Diary (the movie) SUCKED. The book blew my mind years ago- such a disappointment. I'm so happy to have found you in all of this madness. Keep posting, keep writing, and good luck.
My love is stronger with you around. Thanks for the kind words!
“I’ve said before, The Great Gatsby is possibly the Great American Novel, if you look at it as a technical achievement. It’s about 55,000 words, which was astounding to me. In Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas, I tried to compete with that. It was one of the basic guiding principles for my writing. I’ve always competed with that. Not a wasted word. This has been a main point to my literary thinking all my life. Shoot, I couldn’t match 55,000 no matter how I chopped. There are few things that I read and say, ‘Boy, I wish I could write that.’ Damn few. The Book of Revelation is one. Gatsby is one.”—Dr. Hunter S. Thompson - The Rolling Stone Interviews (via jujumigu)
I'm a long-time HST fan of the Fear and Loathing type, but last night I watched Where The Buffalo Roam for the first time and I was thoroughly impressed. I fell in love with Hunter all over again. I was wondering what your opinion is on the variation of how HST was portrayed? And also Lazlo. I was shocked to see him go from a lawyer who, you know, actually practices law, to a sort of guerilla. How much of that portrayal (I am interested in that, rather than the facts) do you think is accurate?
I’m thrilled that you watched it, I love Where the Buffalo Roam, and Bill Murray’s incarnation of HST (haters to the left, please.) WTBR has a special place in my heart, it was my introduction to HST’s world. Looking back having read more and more of Hunter’s work, I am pretty satisfied with the casting/interpretation of HST’s writing, but probably Dr. Gonzo shouldn’t have been played by a white guy. In my opinion, it’s a short trip (pun intended) from lawyer to outlaw! I have no clue if this was an accurate portrayal or not, but I have always assumed it was… as accurate as anything else Hunter ever did/wrote.
“I have no idea what to say, I don’t know when I’ll see you again and I don’t believe in anything beyond the next ten minutes. People keep calling me and telling me what a great friend I am. Everybody is looking for someone who can stand up in the wind. It is lonely standing up and crowded lying down. I refuse to be an anchor for other people’s dreams – but then I refuse to anchor mine to anyone else. So I have no choice but to stand up and piss into the wind. Pardon my vulgarity.”—Hunter S. Thompson, The Proud Highway: Saga of a Desperate Southern Gentleman, 1955-1967 (via ihopeyoulook)
“Not everybody is comfortable with the idea that politics is a guilty addiction. But it is. They are addicts, and they are guilty and they do lie and cheat and steal — like all junkies. And when they get in a frenzy, they will sacrifice anything and anybody to feed their cruel and stupid habit, and there is no cure for it. That is addictive thinking. That is politics — especially in presidential campaigns. That is when the addicts seize the high ground. They care about nothing else. They are salmon, and they must spawn. They are addicts.”—Hunter S. Thompson, Better Than Sex (via sirjeffgoldlbum)
“Who are these people, these faces? Where did they come from? They look like caricatures of used car dealers from Dallas, and sweet Jesus, there are a hell of a lot of them at 4:30 A.M. on a Sunday morning. Still humping the American dream, that vision of the big winner somehow emerging from the last minute pre-dawn chaos of a stale Vegas casino.”—Raoul Duke, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (via glassballoons)
“At the stroke of midnight in Washington, a drooling red-eyed beast with the legs of a man and a head of a giant hyena crawls out of its bedroom window in the South Wing of the White House and leaps fifty feet down to the lawn…pauses briefly to strangle the Chow watchdog, then races off into the darkness…towards the Watergate, snarling with lust, loping through the alleys behind Pennsylvania Avenue, and trying desperately to remember which one of those fore hundred identical balconies is the one outside of Martha Mitchell’s apartment….Ah…Nightmares, nightmares. But I was only kidding. The President of the United States would never act that weird. At least not during football season.”—Hunter S. Thompson - Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ‘72 (via fuckingtubular)