4 fuckin’ weeks!!? Agh!
wise up
What you thought
When you first began it
You got
What you want
Now you can hardly stand it though,
By now you know
It’s not going to stop
It’s not going to stop
It’s not going to stop
‘Til you wise up
You’re sure
There’s a cure
And you have finally found it
You think
One drink
Will shrink you ’til you’re underground
And living down
But it’s not going to stop
It’s not going to stop
It’s not going to stop
‘Til you wise up
Prepare a list of what you need
Before you sign away the deed
‘Cause it’s not going to stop
It’s not going to stop
It’s not going to stop
‘Til you wise up
No, it’s not going to stop
‘Til you wise up
No, it’s not going to stop
So just…give up
-Aimee Mann
the bear that is big
Went to Big Bear this weekend and stayed at Corey’s cabin. This was my 2nd trip to the cabin, the first being the one where we got snowed in with no chains for our vehicles. This time, we all had chains and didn’t need them.
When we left, I hadn’t decided on one aspect of the trip just yet. See, Phil was going and he was planning on snowboarding. I definately had the desire to snowboard, but was very nervous about going through with it. Well, on Saturday, I decided that if I didn’t do it, I would regret it. Sometime in the afternoon, we headed over to the rental place and for $20 I rented a snowboard and boots.
indie in trouble
Your favorite radio station and mine, Indie 103.1, is in jeopardy! Looks like Clear Channel has too many stations in LA and has to drop one. Unfortunately, that means that Indie is first on their list. Chances are Entravision will switch to an ethnic formot of some kind. This is very unfortunate. I guess LA is just doomed to have crappy radio forever.
hunter, hunter, hunter
I know I keep harping on this, but I think it’s important to understand why a man this brilliant would want to kill himself. I checked espn.com today to see what kind of info they had over there, considering it was one of his many employers.
Here’s what I have found…
First, according to this story, Hunter was on the phone with his wife when he killed himself. “‘I was on the phone with him, he set the receiver down and he did it. I heard the clicking of the gun,’ Anita Thompson told the Aspen Daily News in Friday’s editions.” That’s not all, “His son, daughter-in-law and 6-year-old grandson were in the house when the shooting occurred.” Also, “Anita Thompson, 32, said her husband had discussed killing himself in recent months and had been issuing verbal and written directives about what he wanted done with his body, his unpublished works and his assets.
His suicidal talk put a strain on their relationship, she said.
‘He wanted to leave on top of his game. I wish I could have been more supportive of his decision,’ she said. ‘It was a problem for us.'”
It’s all starting to make more sense. At first, I imagined him sitting at home alone with a gun. Now, it’s apparent that he was reaching out. He was looking for some validation of what he was going to do. From the accounts of his wife and son, it seems that they were not only expecting this, but kinda prepared for it.
Also on epsn.com is a series of articles called Remembering. The most important one is the one from Ralph Steadman. Here’s the opening paragraph, to titilate your senses…
“‘I would feel real trapped in this life if I didn’t know I could commit suicide at any time,’ he told me many years ago, and I knew he meant it. It wasn’t a case of if but when. He didn’t reckon he would make it beyond 30, anyway, so he lived it all in the fast lane. There were no first, second, third and top gears in a car — just overdrive. He was in a hurry. Drive your stake into a darkened heart in a red Mercedes Benz. The blackness hides a speeding tramp. The savage beast pretends. But never mind the nights, my love, because they never really happened anyway. So we wrote in a Beverly Hills house one drunken night. I wrote the stanzas — he wrote the chorus. Don’t write, Ralph, he said. You’ll bring shame on your family.”
Then, there’s all this stuff in the Remembering section at espn.com. All good reads, but kinda depressing, too.
more on thompson
I was recently made aware of a movie that was made in 1980 called Where the Buffalo Roam, starring Bill Murray as Hunter Thompson! The review at imdb.com says, “Now the first thing that struck me, was Murray´s incredible performance: He is 100% Hunter S. Thompson, the way he moves and talks. You can actually see how much Johnny Deep copied his acting in ‘Fear and Loathing’.”
Now, I know for a fact that Depp studied Thompson directly to get ready for Fear and Loathing, but I imagine that he had seen this movie and I am very excited to see how Bill Murray does in the role. I have the movie on my Blockbuster.com list now and I will post a review after I have watched it.
johnny depp is amazing
Hunter Thompson’s book, The Rum Dairy, is being made into a motion picture starring Johnny Depp, Josh Hartnett, Benicio Del Toro and Nick Nolte.
Here’s the plot summary from imdb.com:
“Begun in 1959 by a then-twenty-two-year-old Hunter S. Thompson, The Rum Diary is a brilliantly tangled love story of jealousy, treachery and violent alcoholic lust in the Caribbean boomtown that was San Juan, Puerto Rico, in the late 1950s.”
This is very exciting, but sad at the same time. I wonder how involved Hunter was with this project. The movie is supposed to come out this year.
Hunter Thompson is Cannon Fodder
According to this article, Johnny Depp and some of Hunter’s friends are in search of a cannon that they will use to grant Hunter’s last wish. Apparently, he wanted his cremated remains to be shot out of a cannon. He always joked that he was cannon fodder anyway, so I guess it makes sense.
Click the link here to read the article from the link above. It kinda moved me to see that there has been such an outpouring of emotions and support.
fear and loathing in the afterlife
Hunter S. Thompson, journalist and author of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas took his own life today. Not suprising is that he shot himself in the head. Gonzo to the end.
RIP Hunter. You will be missed.