We where somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the dessert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like “I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive…” And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas. And a voice was screaming: “Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?”
The Author of the brilliant psychedelic classic “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas” Hunter S. Thompson died today.
I vividly remember the journey into Hunter S. Thompsons land of drugs and madness. The atmosphere was cool and fogy. My mind where soon bending and twisting just in order to keep up with the events in the book. Sentences like “The trunk of the car looked like a mobile police narcotics lab.” where after a short while just describing the ordinary. After reading Hunter S. Thompson I felt exhilarated; and in great need of some kind of fix. Sadly I ended up with an emotional cold turkey. But dear reader, surely it’s worthwhile literary acid trip. Peace out brother.
Hunter S Thompson commits suicide BBC 21 February 2005