mother of twelve bastards
There are very few people who have made me say, "I want to be him." There is one other I can think of, and he was hit by a train long before I was born.
Years ago I wore sunglasses and walked through the streets of Berkeley and Oakland always carrying a small tape recorder. Years ago I stopped wanting to be him, but I never stopped wishing that I wanted to be Hunter Thompson.
So now that he's taken one of his many guns and fired one last shot into the deep dark night, I ask myself the question. The answer is yes. I do still wish I wanted to be him.
Years ago I wore sunglasses and walked through the streets of Berkeley and Oakland always carrying a small tape recorder. Years ago I stopped wanting to be him, but I never stopped wishing that I wanted to be Hunter Thompson.
So now that he's taken one of his many guns and fired one last shot into the deep dark night, I ask myself the question. The answer is yes. I do still wish I wanted to be him.
posted by sparklestone at 9:44 AM
5 Comments:
"Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?"
"[I'm] an avid reader, a relentless drinker and a fine hand with a .44 Magnum."
From Hells Angels - HST
when i heard this news yesterday, i had 2 thoughts right away...
first, i saw in my mind an image that i haven't forgotten since i read curse of lono, (my first hunter s. thompson book) of him coming out of an airplane bathrooom with his arm dyed blue up to the shoulder from sticking it into the john to try and retrieve his drugs
second, i thought that you would be sad. sorry, hb
I'm not Hunter nor was I hit by a train. It sounds as though you're in the market for a new "I want to be him" guy. I'd be honored to be your ideal.9
9, done & done. I will need to learn your inner workings. Look for me outside your bedroom window sometime in the near future.
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