Gonzo Life

Hunter S. Thompson never really went off the rails.  Actually, I don’t believe he was ever on the rails to begin with.  You couldn't ever compare Hunter to a train, tram, trolley or any other goddamn mode of transportation that takes its direction from tracks.  Hunter was more like a wild pitch; a stray bullet; a casualty of the American dream, if you will.  For those of you who are familiar with Hunter, think for a moment – I mean, really think – what does Hunter represent?  I’m not even sure what I would say to that.  I mean, he stands for something, no doubt.  But what can we really learn from Hunter’s savage and loathsome tale?  As writers and as people.

I’m sleep deprived.  I can’t think.  These words are falling out of my head onto the page.  I don’t think I’m on drugs, but I could be wrong.

The thing about Hunter is that he was a complete mess before he, allegedly, shot himself in the head.  So to get down to the bare bones of Hunter’s brazen existence, I think it would help to, first, address the dissolute concept of self-destruction.  I’m not a psychologist and I don’t know what the Freudian explanation for it is, but I know that many of us revel in the decadence of self-inflicted ruin.   

However, it would appear that there's a vaguely acceptable form of self-destruction – a sort of incidental offshoot of innately hedonistic activity.  A + B = getting blackout drunk and having unprotected sex with strangers in foreign countries.  Both which, I admit, are slightly heinous and debauched; however, remain equally commonplace and therefore socially understood.

The other form of self-destruction comes off as depraved and unprecedented – a coping mechanism that seems to contradict human logic at the most basic level.  Exhibit A: anyone who dunks their head into a bucket of jellyfish (Steve-O, “Jackass”).  Exhibit B: Nikki Sixx and Ozzy Ozbourne.

For Now

The excitement and amoral fulfillment of a self-destructive lifestyle can be associated with more orgies, hallucinations and interesting things to write about.  The rub: estranged kids, substance abuse and suicide.  RIP Dr. Gonzo.  

Continued to be...