Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: In search for the American Dream, by Hunter S. Thompson.
After finishing this book, I am utterly exhausted and desperately in need of a drink. Who would have know that they actually found the American dream…Yep it’s a place. I think, if I understand it correctly; it’s inside Circus Circus (at least it was in 1971).
“Jesus! Did I say that? Or just think it? Was I talking? Did they hear me? I glanced over at my attorney, but he seemed oblivious—watching the road, driving our Great Red Shark along at a hundred and ten or so.”
“In a scene where nobody with any ambition is really what he appears to be, there’s not much risk in acting like a king-hell freak. The overseers will nod wisely at each other and mutter about “these godddamn no-class put-ons.”
“The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge. And I knew we’d get into that rotten stuff pretty soon. Probably at the next gas station.”++++++
This book had me biting my nails and grinding my teeth… I definitely needed some extra vitamin B to get rid of the paranoid episodes that Thompson dragged me through. On the bright side, after reading this, I’m completely confident that I can talk my way out of (or at least amuse myself) any situation—it’s easy; just follow the logic and lead of the Doctor and Attorney. I give this book 5 out of 5 stars. And will not be reading another one of Hunter S. Thompson’s books until I have fully detoxed and recovered from this one. Now to watch the movie – after that drink of courseJ
What to read next? Any suggestions?
Moving on: This week I participated in the Three-Minute Fiction round 10 competition on All things Considered via NPR. The prompt was to write a three-minute voice-mail message consisting of 600 words or less. I thought I’d share my mine with you. It was my only contribution to yesterday’s fuzzy Valentine ’s Day festivities —well that, and giving away a bunch of chocolate to some thirty or forty sugar-addicted monsters…I mean children.
I Can’t Remember the Title. No Really, I Can’t:
I guess you’re still busy. I’ve called you a few times but that’s cool, you must have a lot going on. I was hoping that you could come over. I seem to have forgotten who I am. I woke up on the couch, and I don’t know how I got here…or where here even is. Your number was written on my hand. I hope I dialed the right number, because the nine looks a lot like a four…it’s a little smudged. Anyways, only thing I can remember is you. I really wish the voice-mail robot said your name instead of your number.
My phone says it’s February 15—I hope we had a nice Valentine’s day. Maybe I got lucky yesterday and this is your fault – ha ha. I wish I could remember.
I drank some water and paced the apartment waiting for my memory to come back. I even tried staring at myself in the mirror for about ten minutes, but the guy in the mirror doesn’t even seem remotely familiar. The picture on the mantle is of you and me. I wish I could remember when and where we took it. Is that Hawaii? Wherever that picture was taken, we look happy and you look beautiful.
I thought some fresh air might do me some good and help me remember. But I can’t find the keys to lock up and I don’t even know what kind of neighborhood this is, so I didn’t want to risk leaving the door unlocked, or worse, get locked out. Then where would I be…a homeless amnesiac.
It took me a while to find the phone. I heard it chime from under the couch cushions–it was a text message from the phone company—apparently, my bill is due in five days. Well okay then, I guess call me back. It’s getting dark, and I’m a little worried that I might not remember you if I fall asleep again, or worse—you might not remember me – ha ha?
This week’s 3 questions: last week 3 are still blank so I’m going to stick with those. J
1. What are the goals of the current project you’re working on?
2. What inspires you?
3. If you could live in a painting or as a character in a movie, or a book for a day, who would it be or what painting would it be? Why?
Lastly, I can’t blog without a promotional primal scream, I’ll keep it simple: Buy Sunshine in Darkness…other people like it, and statistics show that 10 out of 10 people who know other people like something, find they like it too—It’s like gonorrhea at an old folks home.