a wee confession
two things, maybe three

Hard to know what to say.

By now, you know that Hunter S. Thompson died via self-inflicted gunshot to the head. While I've always liked his work, it never reached cult-like status with me, unlike many others. Still, I admire what he did, how he changed the way the world thought about what journalism could do. It's just profoundly sad that he saw this as his only option.

I do wonder where it will end. First Spaulding Gray, which really rocked my tiny world. Now HST. I'm vaguely remined of the string of female poets who offed themselves in the 50s and 60s. Which confessional male prose stylist will complete the trifecta. Who's next?


Two nominees:

1. Franz Wright

2. Irvine Welsh (probably would be an accidental OD, but I think that's still in the "spirit" of suicide).

And although she doesn't qualify given the male criterion here, Courtney Love is perpetually one of my ghoul poll picks.

Hadn't thought of Irvine Welsh. Hrm.

And while I agree with Courtney Love being on the suicide watch, she doesn't quite fit the category. Now, if we were talking about female rockers who couldn't write a book/play to earn a buck and like to show crowds their panties (not that there's anything wrong with that), then we'd be on to something.

Eric Bogosian? Woody Allen? Too bad Bill Hicks is already dead.

I was distracted all day at work today. If the world has gotten so shitty that Hunter S. Thompson, a man who made a living at avoiding reality, couldn't take it any more, what kind of chance do the rest of us have? Maybe it was Sean Hannity taking gonzo to its depraved extreme.

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