how many times
can you listen to mr. tambourine man before your mind starts toget upset with you, and shut down? i think that very soon i just might know the answer. i wish, i wish someone out there could do or say something to me to make me happy again. it's just not happening, kids. it's silly, isn't it. i don't recall ever being this down over someone's death, someone, i might add, whom i've never even met. god, it's depressing. i keep doing that thing i do, where i think, oh, this time a few days ago, a week ago, he was up and about and in the world. i obsess too much. and i don't even know how i became this way, god knows i wasn't always like that. anyway... it's getting to be too much to digest these days. i can take acting sane only for so long before it starts killing me. but fuck all that. it's amazing all the shit articles that people are writing about hunter thompson these days. you'd think the man was dead or something. anyway, i found three today that i really liked, for whatever reason, and so now i shall share them with you, my loyal readers, as i am sure some of you don't even know what the fuck the world is missing, with a hunter shaped hole now in it.
i like the first one because it's the most gory so far. and by gory, i mean detailed. for some reason, i'm craving the details. and fucked up shit like "his wife was listening on the phone" not only begs an explanation (take note of that whoever wrote this thing) but it's the kind of detail that makes me say, fuck, what? fucking WHAT? it's funny, when someone kills themself, only then do the people around them remember the clues that they person was trying to hint at, oh hey, i'm going to be dead soon. i feel profoundly bad that he was feeling so ill and helpless, which is the only way i can explain why he did what he did. god knows this guy wasn't going to wither away into blubbering nothingness and let his family watch. thinking of the situation like that brings up some really bad, fucked, memories of mine. i can relate to this scenario only too well, and fuck if i wish i couldn't. but the fact that he used a .45... while there was a child in the house makes me even more mad about the whole thing. what the hell were you thinking? you know what that kind of gun does to a face? it takes it off, that's what it fucking does. that must have been hell for family to have to see that. hell. but how in the hell was his wife listening on the goddamn phone?!?
no note. you fucking asshole.
http://www.boston.com/ae/media/articles/2005/02/22/after_thompsons_suicide_attorney_saw_clues/
this is the nicest obit to date, and i think it will be the best out of anything anyone will have to say. but then again, i say this because it's written by the second person i'd marry, should he happen to drop on my door step one day. the first, as a few of you know, has now just gone and offed himself. at least i've still got this guy to be my literary hero. when the day comes when he dies, that'll be it for me. who will there be to look up to then? but, this guy's health is good, so far as i'm aware, and he doesn't own any firearms. so far as i'm aware. old tom can tell a story with the best of them...
http://www.opinionjournal.com/la/?id=110006325
ralph steadman is one crazy cat. but really, this article makes me happy. to know that they really are going through with the ashes/cannon thing. if any of you have a chance to see something called "breakfast with hunter," do, because it explains in tedious detail, how the man planned to build this doomsday contraption to house his remains. before blowing them all over the skies of colorado, that is. i was afraid the kooky idea would never happen, but god bless people like johnny depp who want to help a crazy fuck get his dying wish.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/g2/story/0,3604,1419584,00.html
there's a hammer coming down now, here over my head. i know exactly how much sleep i'm getting tonight. and when you add that to the rediculously negative amount i've gotten the past few days, it'll total somewhere around 8 or 9 hours. for three days. while i realize this isn't exactly healthy, there's not much i can do about it. drugging myself up on melatonin doesn't do much of anything for me these days, and besides, you can't force your mind to stop thinking long enough to convince it that it needs to rest. it just goes and goes and goes util the day it decides to snap on you. aw hell, i ramble when i can't make sense of things. no, really, i ramble a lot anyway. that or i'm stone silent. no middle ground with me folks, no middle ground.
