Two days ago my friend, Hunter S. Thompson, apparently took his own life.
He influenced my style of writing more than anyone; and certainly is one of a small list of people known and unknown who had a huge influence on my philosophy of life.
I'm quite sure that if it wasn't for Hunter's preference for being in the action rather than just pretending to be, I'd have been living a very dull life now as a university professor, and not living out the real life adventures I have lived, travelling the world as I have; that I owe to him. He made me realize that you create your own story, and that its possible in this century to choose to live something a little more ambitious than the rat race; where, no matter how much you might excel at it, in the end you're still just a rat.
Hunter had repeatedly indicated he didn't believe that anyone was minding the light at the end of the tunnel, he had denigrated my interests in eastern philosophy, and I suppose he might call me just another "failed seeker" if he met me today. But if I was one, then he was one too, as so much of what he did seems to me to be a desperate effort to make contact with that very "something", that "great magnet", the force that pulls us invariably into certain unescapeable destinies.
That said, If Hunter gets to be immortal, I think it is as his character, as Raoul Duke, as the larger than life figure of "Fear and Loathing". He lives on in other worlds, destined to forever be chasing that great magnet...
For me, I think a lot of how I live my life is rememberance enough of Hunter and what he did for me; but now I think he'll live on in my gaming nights too, adding a touch of the Gonzo to my settings, coming in and out of them in a neverending wild ride chasing the Dream.
So thursday is where it'll start, in my Traveller campaign. I figure my friend is already there, in that created world (and be it through narcotic substances or through the sheer power of the mind, the worlds we create and the things we envision are all real, in their own way), in a space-lounge somewhere waiting for a phone call from his editor.
A man on the move, just sick enough to be totally confident.
Nisarg
He influenced my style of writing more than anyone; and certainly is one of a small list of people known and unknown who had a huge influence on my philosophy of life.
I'm quite sure that if it wasn't for Hunter's preference for being in the action rather than just pretending to be, I'd have been living a very dull life now as a university professor, and not living out the real life adventures I have lived, travelling the world as I have; that I owe to him. He made me realize that you create your own story, and that its possible in this century to choose to live something a little more ambitious than the rat race; where, no matter how much you might excel at it, in the end you're still just a rat.
Hunter had repeatedly indicated he didn't believe that anyone was minding the light at the end of the tunnel, he had denigrated my interests in eastern philosophy, and I suppose he might call me just another "failed seeker" if he met me today. But if I was one, then he was one too, as so much of what he did seems to me to be a desperate effort to make contact with that very "something", that "great magnet", the force that pulls us invariably into certain unescapeable destinies.
That said, If Hunter gets to be immortal, I think it is as his character, as Raoul Duke, as the larger than life figure of "Fear and Loathing". He lives on in other worlds, destined to forever be chasing that great magnet...
For me, I think a lot of how I live my life is rememberance enough of Hunter and what he did for me; but now I think he'll live on in my gaming nights too, adding a touch of the Gonzo to my settings, coming in and out of them in a neverending wild ride chasing the Dream.
So thursday is where it'll start, in my Traveller campaign. I figure my friend is already there, in that created world (and be it through narcotic substances or through the sheer power of the mind, the worlds we create and the things we envision are all real, in their own way), in a space-lounge somewhere waiting for a phone call from his editor.
A man on the move, just sick enough to be totally confident.
Nisarg
