I watched a documentary on Hunter S. Thompson, and I have to admit that Gonzo shit leaves me cold. Absolutely no appeal
During his heyday, and that of other self-destructive voices like Bukowski, I was trying desperately to hold myself together. I became rabidly anti-drug, for instance. So the appeal of going too far really was something I shied away from. Only now, after 40 years of relative sanity am I able to revisit some of those places.
I fell for it a little too much as a teenager. With dire consequences. So On The Road was part of my reading, and Steal This Book! and other shit like that.
And the writers of those books self-destructed, just like Thompson and Bukowski and so many others.
I can intellectually understand that Thompson may have thought he needed to immerse himself in the extremes to understand the extremes and write about the extremes. Though I suspect that all the writing was a byproduct, and the excesses a rationalization after the fact.
I'm a square, man. I admit it. A liberal square, if you will. I kind of like moderation. I think life is fragile enough without pushing it.
4 hours ago